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Irritation prickles my chest at that.Someone like me.He speaks as if such a fate would be reprehensible, the worst possible outcome in a situation filled with worst possible outcomes. But Michal has never been the worst thing to happen to me; in some lights—even the dim, flickering light of this grotto—he might even seem the best. By sharing his blood with me, he is not only healing the cut on my palm but also offering his physical strength, his speed, hisprotection in the fight to come. And I—

I want to protect him too.

My irritation contracts at the realization, squeezing until I’m almost breathless with it. I want to protect Michal. I do. Moreover, we’ll need every advantage against Death, against Filippa, and that includes my sight. Still I hesitate, however, staring hard at the grimoire in my lap. Attempting to think around the deep, unendingachein my chest whenever I’m around Michal. Though an unbreakable bond with him no longer feels like the worst possible thing—perhaps never has—would I still pursue it if not under threat of Death? Would I still want it? Would Ichooseit?

Have Ievermade a choice for myself?

Squaring my shoulders, I rise to my knees and level him with a look. “Emotions are the key, right?”

Michal nods warily. “Right.”

“So... theoretically, if we feel nothing for each other, the bond cannot form?”

“Theoretically.”

I sit up straighter, tossing the grimoire aside and clasping my hands. “Excellent. Seems simple enough.”

He blinks like I’ve just spoken in tongues. His eyes harden. Then—just as I’ve opened my mouth to askwhy, exactly, that slow smirk is spreading—he sits up too, leaning forward to drape his elbows on his knees. Bringing his face within a breath of mine. I hold very still, trying not to notice the rings of rich, molten brown around his pupils. The fringe of thick, dark lashes.

Was his hair always silver?The thought strikes again without permission as we study each other.Or was it once dark? Has he always worn black?

He tilts his head as if hearing my thoughts, lifting a hand to touch my own hair in a light caress. “You think it simple not to feel?” I force myself to nod. Totry. Because the only way to strengthen ourselves without forming this—thispermanentbond is to be painfully honest. And the painful truth is—no matter how much Iwanthim—I cannot truly choose Michal while backed in a corner.

He deserves more than that.

My determination falters slightly, however, as his fingers tangle in my hair, his thumb sweeping slowly up my cheek. “Perhaps you’re right, pet. Perhaps it is simple.” A meaningful pause. “Show me.”

My belly tightens almost painfully at the sobriquet.Pet.It drips with familiarity, intimacy, and something darker too. Something sinful and possessive. “Sh-Show you what?”

“That you feel nothing for me.” His smirk spreads at my blank expression. “It should be easy, right?”

I reach up to seize his hand, to push it away with a scowl, but lace my fingers through his instead, tugging him to his knees. Pressing flush against him. “Right,” I manage through a very tight, very dry throat. “This is—it’s only to strengthen each other. Just to—to share abilities.”

He takes my other hand too, guiding both behind my back and leaning low to brush a kiss against my throat. “You feel absolutely nothing?”

“Absolutely”—I resist the urge to tip my head back, to close my eyes and bare my throat to his lips—“nothing.”

Nothing at all, except—my entire body shudders as he gently coaxes one of my sleeves down, down, down, revealing myshoulder, andGod, I want him to bite me there; I want tofeelthe sharp sting of his teeth, the lave of his tongue, the weight of his arms around me.Nothing, I tell myself fiercely.Nothing, nothing, nothing—

He chuckles against the curve of my neck before drawing back once more, releasing my hands and pulling his shirt—loose and stark white—over his head. Revealing every inch of his perfect adamantine skin. His flat torso, his broad chest, hisshoulders. “How about now?” At my stricken expression, he wipes his smirk away with a hand. “You made a real mess last time. Even an immortal only has so many shirts.”

“Me?” My fingers react instinctively, fumbling to undo the midnight buttons down my front.Pearls.A ridiculous choice— “You’re the one who shredded my gown to tie me to atree.”

“And I regret nothing.” He nods toward the gown with a wicked gleam in his black eyes.Brown eyes, I correct myself reflexively.Dark, sultry brown eyes— “Do you need help with that?”

“No.” With extreme strength of will, I force myself to look away from him, to slow down and unbutton each pearl one by one, to ignore how Michal tracks my every move with predatory focus. And that intensity in his gaze—thathunger—seems to sharpen each sensation; never before have I been more aware of my body, of the slick slide of pearl, the deliberate push of my fingers, the delicious friction against my skin. With a plunging neckline and billowing sleeves—and green silk so deep it looks black—this gown is striking on its own. Onme, however—with my shoulder still bared—it looks... provocative. Powerful, even.

No.My fingers still as my gaze lifts to Michal.Ifeel powerful.

And when our eyes lock, a low sound of approval rumbles fromhis chest. He reaches for me, but I shake my head, undoing the last of the buttons slowly,slowly, while the gown parts down my body in the center. Jaw clenched—eyes burning with restraint—Michal stretches back against the headboard to watch as I shrug the gown from my shoulders and it slides down my hips to my knees, pooling against the duvet. Baring my silken undergarments to his gaze. No corset. The neckline wouldn’t allow for one, but I cannot bring myself to regret the scant garment I wear instead. Not when Michal’s lids have gone hooded and he stares at me like a feast to devour.

I hook a finger beneath the strap of my top, following it to the swell of my breast, until I reach the clasp at the front.

Without a word, I undo it, tossing it aside and crawling into his lap.

His eyes darken, and for several seconds, he simply stares at me, his entire body hard and still beneath me. When I lean forward to kiss his cheek, trailing my lips down his jaw to his throat, he swallows hard, and Ifeelthe movement on my tongue. I want to taste it. I want to tastehim. A soft sigh escapes me as I wrap my arms around his neck, and Michal seems to thaw at the sound; his fingers creep up my ribs as if ensuring that I’m real—that I’m here—before tightening when I nip his ear impatiently. Because Iamreal; Iamhere, and—

I draw back just far enough to meet his gaze, unwilling to relinquish my hold on him. Relishing the feel of his bare chest against mine. The cool slide of our skin as he shifts slightly, thrusting his hips upward. A bolt of heat spikes through my core at the movement, and I—I think I want to feel him elsewhere too. The realization leaves me overwrought, breathless. “You’re the mostbeautiful man I’ve ever seen,” I tell him, burying my face in his neck and bearing downward, rolling, rubbing, seeking that delicious friction down his leg.