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Each step felt like twenty, and I lost any semblance of calm I might have had as I grew closer and saw the shadow-filled opening curved into the cell wall. My hands repeatedly opened and closed as fear for what I would see—what I would do—crashed into the anticipation and rage within me. This place wasn’t even fit for a Craven, and she had Casteel here?

A sound came from the recesses of the cell. It was rough and low, a snarl that didn’t sound mortal as I hurried through the opening into the dim, candlelit space.

I spotted him then.

And my heart cracked under the weight of what I saw.

Chapter 25

Limp, dark waves fell forward, shielding most of Casteel’s face. All I could see was his mouth—lips peeled back, and fangs bared.

His growl vibrated from a chest that shouldn’t have been so slender. The bones of his shoulders stood out as starkly as the twisted ones chaining him to the wall. Bonds I knew were made of the bones of long-dead deities. They hadn’t been used to keep him chained. They did nothing to him.

The intent was to stop someone like me from breaking them.

Shadowstone shackles encircled his ankles, wrists…and his throat. His throat. His actual, fucking throat. And his skin—good gods, not an inch wasn’t covered in thin, angry, red lines. Nowhere, from his collarbone to his breeches. The cloth along the calf of his right leg had been torn, revealing a jagged wound that looked too much like a Craven bite. The dirtied bandage on his left hand…

Gods.

I’d thought I had prepared myself, but I truly wasn’t ready. Seeing what had been done to him was a horrifying shock.

“Casteel,” I whispered, starting forward.

He launched to his feet, swiping out with curled fingers. I jerked to a stop, narrowly avoiding his reach as the chain at his neck snapped him back. His bare feet, dirty with dried blood, slipped over the damp stone. Somehow, he kept his balance. Fighting the bindings, the chains creaked as he threw his head back.

Oh, gods. His eyes…

I could only see a thin strip of gold.

My gift came alive, spilling out from me in a way that hadn’t happened in a long time. I connected to him, flinching as his emotions swamped me, coming in a dark, gnawing wave of painful hunger.

Bloodlust.

He’d fallen into bloodlust. I knew in that moment that he had no idea who I was. All he sensed was my blood. Possibly even the Primal essence in that blood. I wasn’t his Queen. His friend or wife. I wasn’t his heartmate. I was nothing but food. But what cut deep and to the quick was that I knew he had no idea who he was.

My chest rose and fell rapidly as I tried to catch my breath. I wanted to scream. To cry.

Most of all, I wanted to burn the realm.

Those nearly black eyes darted to the opening, his growl growing louder, deeper.

“I wouldn’t stand too close to him,” Callum advised. “He’s like a rabid animal.”

My head jerked to the Revenant. Millicent stood behind him. “I will make sure you die,” I promised. “And it will hurt.”

“You know,” he drawled, leaning against the stone as he crossed his arms and jerked his chin toward Casteel, “he said the same thing.”

“Then I’ll make sure he has the pleasure of witnessing it.”

Callum chuckled. “So giving of you.”

“You have no idea.” I turned from him before I discovered how a Revenant survived decapitation.

Casteel was still staring at the Revenant. His focus had zeroed in on Callum, even though I was much closer to him. The way he fixated on the Revenant gave me hope that he wasn’t completely lost.

That he was still in there, and I could reach him—remind him of who he was. Stop him before he became a thing instead of a person.

I sprang forward, clasping his arm. He swung his head to me, hissing. His skin was hot—too hot. And dry. Feverish. I stepped into him.

“Shit,” Millicent exclaimed from the hall.

Casteel was like a viper. He went straight for my throat. But I’d expected the move and caught him by the chin, holding his head back. The rough, short hairs on his jaw felt strange against my palm. He had lost some of his body mass, and I was strong, but his hunger gave him the strength of ten gods. My arm shook as I tapped into the essence, letting my gift roar to the surface.

Silvery-white light sparked across my vision and from my hands, washing over skin that shouldn’t be so dull and hot. I channeled every happy memory I could into the touch—memories of us in the cavern. When we stopped pretending. Us on our knees before Jasper, our rings clasped in our hands. The way he’d looked at me in that blue gown in Saion’s Cove. How he’d taken me in that garden, up against the wall. I funneled the energy into him, praying that healing his physical wounds would ease some of the pain of hunger, calming him enough for him to remember who he was. It would hopefully be a temporary fix, at least. Easing the knife’s edge of hunger so he could feed without doing real and painful damage. Because he would now if I let him. And that would hurt him. It would kill a part of him.