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“And you don’t want to hurt me.”

Laurent’s face crumpled. A wounded, heart-wrenching sob escaped him. “Never,” he said, his voice cracking.

I pressed my hand harder over my mouth. From the moment I’d met him, Laurent had disarmed me. He had an answer for everything, usually delivered with cutting sarcasm or a sensuality I found difficult to resist. I’d met him as he was now, fourteen years my senior and capable of outmaneuvering me in just about every situation. But seeing him like this, I glimpsed a side of him perhaps no one but Varick had seen.

This was Laurent with all his walls down. Raw and vulnerable. Someone wounded a long time ago and terrified to give his heart away. My mind traveled back to one of our earliest conversations—the night he’d shown me the door his mother had bricked up to stop his father from entering her chamber. “All love is a tragedy,” he’d said. “We’ve all got bricked-up doors inside us, Princess. Loving someone means tearing all that down and leaving ourselves open. Make yourself that vulnerable and you give the ones you love the power to hurt you. And they always do.”

It had sounded cynical at the time—the words of a man too worldly to ever allow himself to love. But now I realized that wasn’t true. Laurent was afraid to love. He expected to be hurt. In fact, he counted on it. But he did it anyway. When Laurent fell, he fell hard. And as with everything else he did, he believed he deserved to hurt. It was possible I would have never known this. I’d met him after he’d bricked up the boy Varick knew. But maybe I should have known it. I’d just watched Laurent killing himself to heal Nor Doru’s wounded. He loved his country. Had fallen hard for it. He loved it so much he’d willingly hurt himself for its sake.

He’d follow a prophecy he didn’t want to believe in.

My gaze strayed to the window. Until today, I hadn’t truly appreciated the terror of the sun. Nothing could erase what I’d seen from Laurent’s balcony. As long as I lived, the memory of Sithistran soldiers dragging that female into the street to burn would endure in my memory.

Heart in my throat, I looked at the tub.

Varick loosened his grip on Laurent’s hair. “I love you, too,” Varick rumbled. “You are loved. Do you understand?”

Laurent squeezed his eyes shut.

“Look at me,” Varick said in his general’s voice.

Laurent blinked his eyes open. Water dripped from his hair and ran down his face. His fangs were still fully distended, but his eyes appeared calmer.

“I love you. And you’re going to feed slowly. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Laurent rasped. “I promise.”

Varick released him. He waited a moment, then pressed his wrist to Laurent’s lips.

Laurent groaned. His tongue darted out, tasting Varick. Then he seized Varick’s arm and bit down savagely, making Varick grunt and steady himself on his knee. Laurent sucked greedily, his cheeks hollowing with the effort.

“What did I say?” Varick ground out.

“Go ooh,” Laurent said around Varick’s arm.

“So slow down.”

Laurent glared but obeyed, his pulls growing less frantic. After a minute, the burns on his face healed, the skin becoming smooth and whole. His irises lost their wild sheen. His face went from gaunt to healthy.

Varick’s shoulders relaxed. He reached his free hand up and pushed Laurent’s wet hair off his forehead. “Good boy.”

Laurent’s eyes drifted shut, his dark lashes dusting his cheeks. Still sucking, he moaned.

I hugged my waist and tried to ignore the heat building between my legs. I’d just had something of a revelation about my husband. Lar Katerin had fallen today. The lawn outside was full of wounded Nor Doruvians. I had no business feeling desire. But desire and feeding went hand in hand, and it seemed not even disaster could dampen the lust that so often accompanied blood. A dangerous ache. Far more dangerous than I ever realized. But I walked in danger all the time now. What was a little more?

The air crackled with tension that continued to build as the men held each other’s gazes.

Eventually, Laurent pulled his fangs from Varick’s wrist and sagged against the side of the tub. “Fuck,” he whispered. Under the water, he reached between his legs.

I didn’t even see Varick move. In a blink, he gripped Laurent’s throat. “Don’t even think about it,” Varick rasped. He shoved Laurent backward, making water slosh over the rim of the tub and slop onto the floor.

Laurent coughed and gave him a dark look. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Varick surged to his feet. He turned and paced away, only to swing back with a growl. “What’s your problem?”

“Maybe you can tell me since you already seem to know.”

Varick vibrated with anger as he flung a hand toward the window. “How long were you going to stay out there?”