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I hated to ask favors, but I’d never sleep another night like this. “Thea, do you think it would be possible to get someone to fix the door today?”

Amalthea pursed her lips and twisted her neck to see the destruction from Raphael’s entry. “I guess Raphael was… motivated. If he felt your pain through the bond, I doubt anything would have stopped him.”

The bond again. “So can it be fixed?”

“Of course, Sam. But you should know, even without a door, everyone would respect your space. You’re the king’s Chosen.”

Not everyone. Not Titus. I tried not to let my skepticism show, but must have failed miserably, because Thea quickly added, “Let me see to that right now, actually.”

She got up, and I examined the rest of the contents of the basket. Under the box was a book, a stone, and a bell. I lifted the bell in my hand, the gold metal glinting against the firelight. A summoning bell.

“That’s tied to me,” Amalthea explained, returning a moment later. “More suitable than having Raphael sending servants to fetch me.”

Summoning bells were tied to an individual and called them over a short distance. My mother had given one away once, in affection, and told me to think long and hard before doing so. Beyond that, I’d only ever seen them tied to servants before.

But Amalthea wasn’t my servant. Maybe she really was my friend.

“And what are these for?”

“That,” she said, pointing at the stone, “goes into the fire. It’s not enchanted, but that kind of rock stores heat very well.

You take it out a bit before you intend to sleep, and it warms the bed.

Before I started taking the tea, it was my best friend during my cycle.

The book is to entertain you when you’re bored. ”

The stone I appreciated. The book… “I have enough entertainment for me with the grimoire.”

Amalthea grimaced. “That’s hardly fun. This will help pass the time.”

I was about to protest I had no such need for entertainment, not when there was work to be done, when her words made me remember what I was supposed to be doing right now. “Gods, Amalthea. I need to get to the training room! Demos will—”

“ Demos will understand,” she interrupted. “He’s a hardass, but he’s not a complete barbarian, Sam. We can resume in a few days when the worst has passed.”

“That’s not necessary,” I protested. “I’m not grievously ill. I’m confident others have fought in worse.”

Amalthea lifted the stone from the basket and placed it at the edge of the fireplace. “Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean you have to. You’re training in self-defense, Sam, not going to war. Just because theoretical ‘others’ had it worse doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take care of yourself. ”

I wanted to explain that was exactly what it meant, but I lacked the words that wouldn’t sound petulant.

Amalthea, rightfully used to winning every argument, settled back in her chair with another book.

I didn’t take the grimoire out, but I didn’t pick up the novel either, instead choosing to study the book on vampire powers.

Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing that the mental link had brought Raphael to me, but the intimacy bothered me.

Hours passed. The door got fixed—by a vampire—and when he left, Amalthea helped barricade the door once more for me.

At some point, I drifted off to sleep. More accurately, I succumbed to the exhaustion like my body begged me to.

When I awoke, it was a fight to lift my eyelids.

The room was dark, save the dwindling orange embers from the fireplace.

The book I’d been working through was splayed open on my chest. I cracked my neck, trying to orient myself to my setting.

And realized I wasn’t alone.

“You always do this,” I groused.

“Do what?” The Vampire King of the West asked.

“Watch me sleep.”

I didn’t have to see him to know he was smirking. “Someone needs to keep an eye on you.”

But why is it you? “Where’s Amalthea?”

“I sent her back to her rooms to rest. If it helps, she had to be persuaded.” Raphael tossed another log on the fire, jostling the others around until the fire grew brighter.

Then he pulled the heating stone Amalthea had placed inside with his bare hand and tucked it into the bed.

I wondered if it would still be warm if I pulled it under the bedframe, where I actually slept.

He lit the other lights in the room, allowing my human eyes to adjust.

My attention landed not on him—or the barricade that had been carefully reconstructed with more order than Amalthea had been capable of—but on a silver rolling cart piled high past the entryway.

“Raphael,” I said slowly, “what is that?”

“Oh, that.” He shrugged. “Amalthea mentioned you might like them and find the taste soothing.”

That was a pile of chocolate balls piled at least as tall as a child, ornately arranged as if fit for display in the great hall. It probably weighed more than me.

Raphael said the last words I expected to hear from a king. “Let me serve you.”

I didn’t have the heart to admit I’d already eaten half my weight in chocolate, so I dutifully put one of the truffles in my mouth. In fact, I was developing quite a taste for the sweet. “I take it by the fact I can eat it, you didn’t cook it yourself.”

Raphael grinned, settling onto the sofa next to me, his legs kicked out and ankles crossed while he tucked his hands behind his head. “Here, I have servants for those needs.”

I plopped another one in, savoring the taste.

These were more decadent than the box Amalthea had given me, with a little fruit paste inside.

Raphael watched me swallow, his gaze pinned to my face.

My body warmed at his watchful gaze, and I cast about for something to say.

“Maybe I should call Amalthea back to share.”

Raphael seemed to note the tiny golden bell on the end table for the first time. He frowned. “She gave you a summoning bell? By blood, she must like you. She refused to have one made for me.”

“Something tells me the chocolate might go a long way with her. Or shoes, from what I’ve seen.” A strange cramp wove through my stomach at the idea of Raphael gifting her shoes or desserts, but I didn’t want to cause discord between the two.

He snorted. “I pay her enough she can buy all the chocolate and dresses she likes. She simply prefers you. Can’t say I blame her.”

We sat like that for several moments. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable.

Raphael and I had walked and rode for hours at a time without a word passing between us.

But then, it had been about survival. I’d thought him a monster, but at least I stood a chance with him as my monster.

Now, however, as the fire warmed my toes, and I sat curled up in the corner of the settee with him at the other end, the vampire sprawled without a care, it was obvious: this was something more than survival.

After a time, the fire lowered again, and Raphael put another log on it.

“You’ve been reading, I see,” he said, breaking the silence .

Right. I was still holding the book on vampire powers against my chest. I lifted my head to study his face.

Was he annoyed I wasn’t working on the translation he’d offered me a thousand gold pieces for?

“I’ve been working on the grimoire,” I promised.

“It’s slow, but I’m making progress.” I probably should have given him a status update sooner, but he hadn’t asked, and I hadn’t translated anything meaningful enough to warrant a report.

“I’m more intrigued by your current reading material.”

Panic flared inside me. Would he think I was spying on them? Trying to use my position to gain knowledge about vampires? The encounter with Titus had left me paranoid.

“It’s a simple question, dove. Relax.”

I swallowed. Fine. He wanted to know why I was reading about vampire powers. “So you really can sense what I’m feeling?”

“You wear your fears on your face, you know.”

That wasn’t a denial. It had taken me weeks to work up the courage; I wasn’t letting him slip away with sly words so easily. “Is it true?”

A beat. Then—“Yes.”

I chewed at my cheek, waiting for more of a response. He didn’t elaborate.

“Amalthea told me,” I prodded.

He tilted his head back and sighed. “Amalthea has a big mouth. Is she also the source of your reading material?”

I nodded, but I wouldn’t let him change the subject. “So you form a mental link with everyone you bite? ”

“Theoretically.”

“Don’t make me guess, Raphael,” I said. “What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t make a habit of biting living sources. Or if they start out alive when I’m drinking, I drain them so my own thoughts aren’t muddied with others.”

Gods. Just when I’d fooled myself into thinking he wasn’t monstrous.

“Again, Samara, relax. I have no intention of killing you because of the bond. The others… it’s irritating having your mind crowded by others. It’s a power that’s driven lesser vampires to madness.”

“You shouldn’t have had anything to drink from me if it was such a burden,” I hissed. My anger was borne of fear. Raphael might not be lying right now, but he could change his mind.

He arched a single white brow at me. “You’ll recall I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“So you wouldn’t drink from me again, given the chance?”

“It hardly matters, dove. Once is all it takes to forge the link.”

That wasn’t an answer. Which with Raphael, was an answer.

Yes, he’d drink from me if there was an invitation.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Disgusted?

That’s what my brain said my reaction should be.

But talking of the bite made me recall exactly how it had felt, something I’d worked hard to forget. If I asked him to bite me, would he?

Ask him? I was losing my mind. I didn’t know how much he could tell from the mental link, but by the curious stare he was giving me, it was far too much.

“How can we break the bond?” I asked. “I haven’t come across any answers in this.” Yet .

He skimmed the title once more and then— did he just roll his eyes ? “You won’t find such an answer in that book. The bond is permanent.”

Great. “And what if my emotions annoy you?” Will you kill me then?

Raphael appeared unconcerned with the possibility. “You don’t need to worry over such a thing.”

“What if there was a way to block you from my feelings?” I pressed. “This book mentions mental shielding, but it offers no details.”

“There’s no need,” he insisted.

Because if I ever bothered him, he would kill me. Just like how he’d killed Thomas. Because he wanted to. “Do you know how to do it?”

He gave a beleaguered sigh. “I’ve just told you there’s no need. Why do you belabor the point, dove?”

Because I know by the way you’re avoiding the question, it means yes, you do . “If you can truly feel my emotions, then you must know I’m worried you’re going to change your mind about being shackled to my human grievances for the rest of my natural life.”

“I can feel you, Samara.” He turned fully to me now, his gaze pinning me.

“I feel it all, but as I told you, your emotions are blatant when I’m near you.

You’re worried, yes, and curious about this puzzle.

I feel it in my chest the same way I can hear your own heart racing now, the way you swallow to clear your throat to levy another argument. ”

My heart was racing. Part of it was the worry that Raphael would kill me to end the bond, but that was distant to the pounding in my chest I felt as he looked at me.

We were scant inches apart now. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, his neck exposed in vampire fashion.

His arm was braced along the back of the couch, fingers close enough to graze my shoulders by accident when he twitched.

Not that I’d noticed the vampire twitching before.

I was more aware of each brush of those fingers than any lingering cramps.

I leaned away, looked away. Forced myself to believe that my heart was racing only out of self-preservation, because this was feeling more like self-destruction.

“Train me. Or at least tell me how, and I can practice on my own.”

He looked at me, examining not just my face but my whole person. As if weighing something.

Then, simply: “No.”