Page 95 of A Hunt Bound in Blood

I also couldn’t finish this without her, and I tried to convince myself it mattered that I might not get the evidence to clear my name.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and I hated the bitterness of her regret when she squeezed her eyes shut and nodded.

A silent agreement. Not an enthusiastic acknowledgement of the contract being formed between us but enough for me to guide her to my neck. I flinched as she sank those beautiful fangs into my flesh.

The moan that left her throat was soon joined with mine. The sensation was incredible. Even better than last time. My cock grew hard, my skin grew warm, and I wished we had time to revel in the pleasure that swept over us. Since we didn’t, I settled for holding her tightly against me, savouring the proximity, the press of our bodies. An awareness surged between us that hadn’t been there before. It was like I knew exactly how she wanted to be held, where she wanted to be touched. Her every need was a murmur in the back of my mind, and I didn’t resent the knowledge. If anything, I was grateful for it. Making her happy wasn’t a chore—it was a reward. One I now had the capacity to fulfill more easily. All the complications aside.

I could have sat there for hours, allowed her to drink until my heart slowed, but she pulled away too soon. When she did, I noted the flush in her cheeks, the brightness in her eyes—what was visible around the blown-out pupils. It took everything in me to help her to her feet and leave her clothes intact.

Her legs were strong and steady, her emotions wild and overwhelmingly ecstatic—except for that dry, bitter guilt.

“Thank you,” she said, using the pad of her finger to wipe the drip of blood from the corner of her mouth, as though licking it would be too much. “I know what that cost you. I know what you’ve done.”

She started to look away, but I pressed my trembling fingers to her chin. Caught myself running my thumb over her bottom lip even as my tongue ran over mine.

“None of that.”

There was so much more I wanted to say, but nothing that felt right to share in the moment. Nothing she would believe. Likely nothing she would ever believe thanks to the pressure of the bond now humming between us.

But that didn’t make it any less true. I’d made my sacrifice willingly. Would have done so much more and so much worse to ensure her survival.

I swallowed every word. I retracted my wings, pulled on my shirt, and with my hand tight in hers, I guided her back up the hill. While I might not have been able to speak, I also couldn’t let her go. I needed her touch, the feel of her skin against mine, and I was grateful that she seemed to need it just as much. As my thumb drifted over the back of her hand, tracing over every bump and plane of her veins and the softness of her skin, I couldn’t help but wonder about the consequences waiting for me—about how long it would take for this exquisite agony, this delectable connection, to destroy me.

Glory

XLI

We reached the top of the hill and stared out over the rises and falls that stretched before us. The scene was beautiful. Magical for being untouched by any kind of industrialization. The king hadn’t bothered to do anything with it, the region too far from civilization to be useful, and no groups had claimed it except for the animals and beasts that called it home.

I wished I could take the time to appreciate it. Or that my thoughts would allow me to focus on it with the serenity it deserved.

But all I could think about was the incredible richness of Cammon’s blood, so much more distinctive than before. And of the fire of his rage when he’d realized what was wrong with me. The desperation in his voice when he’d urged me to drink.

Would it be the worst thing, being bonded to me?

The question wouldn’t let me go. The wry smile on his face when he’d asked, the pinch of sorrow that he thought my hesitation stemmed from anything other than an effort to protect him. The smoky black ink drifting across his crimson eyes that told me how much he already craved what he demanded of me.

Did he realize how much he’d given up by letting me drink from him? We’d talked about it after the first bite, so I knew he understood in theory, but the reality would now haunt him. He would leave me, head off for his own future, and even while he tried to form a new life for himself, the feel of me would always be under his skin, calling him back, begging him to seek me out.

The guilt over what I’d done tore at me, but it was too late to change anything. If I could have, I would have gone all the way back to those days under the mountain and triple-checked my supplies. I could have swallowed my pride and told him what was wrong. In failing to do either of those things, I’d damned this beautiful man for the rest of his life.

How could I live with that?

I swore to myself I would find a way to break the bond. It had to be possible. Magic. A spell. A ritual. Some way to release him from this unwanted connection.

A sharp pain stole my breath at the idea of dividing us, and I accepted that what made the guilt so much worse was that I didn’t want to break the connection. On the contrary, I wanted more than some one-sided bond. I didn’t want him to leave. To suffer without me. To suffer at all. I wanted him here with me, or me with him.

I wondered what Karhasan was like for non-demons. Would he want some magicless vampire following him to his father’s court while he fought to reclaim his position as heir?

The thought was enough to make me laugh. Likely not. I would be in the way, and frankly, I wanted more for myself than to be some demon prince’s consort, or for him to be my living blood tap. It wouldn’t benefit either of us in any capacity.

In almost any capacity.

Yet I couldn’t deny my palace library would feel empty after this.

“Based on the map, the Widow’s Hood is northeast,” Cammon said, pointing with one hand while his other remained tight around mine.

He spoke as casually as if we’d spent our day the same way we had from the beginning of our journey. As though nothing earth-shattering had happened. I admired him for it and resented it. I didn’t want to be the only one spinning. Yet maybe he had the right of it. A distraction did sound nice.