Page 25 of The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash #6)

My head hurt.

It felt like a blacksmith had taken up residency in my skull, relentlessly hammering on an anvil, each strike echoing through my entire body.

Each bone ached like an ancient tree carrying the weight of centuries. Each joint felt as if it were on the edge of shattering. My stomach and chest felt hollow, and I…

I ached.

I ached from hunger. I hadn’t taken enough blood. I couldn’t quite remember why at the moment, but it was making me weak.

And getting worse.

I was so tired. I wanted nothing more than to give in to the exhaustion, but I couldn’t.

The whispers wouldn’t allow it. They were constant, an echo behind each thought, filling the quiet between them and telling me what I needed to do. They no longer urged me to feed. But they still wanted me to escape and put down anyone who stood in my way.

I didn’t want to do what he wanted of me. Something buried deep within stopped me. Though the pounding in my head worsened with each refusal.

You can’t fight me , came the achingly cold whisper that caused tiny bumps to erupt over my skin. You’ve never been able to. So, why resist? If you just give in, the hunger will stop. So will the pain. You will be at peace. Don’t you want that?

What I wanted was for the whispers to quiet down, but even if they did, I couldn’t give in to the exhaustion. I couldn’t be weak anymore.

Because I wasn’t alone.

Keeping my arms wrapped around my knees, I slid my gaze from the floor to the male across from me.

Like me, he sat on the floor but wasn’t curled in on himself.

One long leg was stretched out straight, the other bent at the knee.

His arms rested loosely in his lap, and his chin was dipped slightly, causing dark waves to tumble over his forehead.

The shadow of stubble along his jaw was thicker than…

I couldn’t remember.

But I knew this wasn’t the chamber I’d woken up in. It was colder. Windowless. And there was a faint staleness in the air.

I…I also couldn’t remember how we’d ended up like this, sitting silently on a cold floor, his golden gaze never straying from me.

I took a shallow breath, catching the delicious scent of roasted beef wafting from the tray on the table. My stomach shifted, the gnawing emptiness there as painful as the one in my chest. I wanted to move toward the food the male hadn’t even touched, but he sat between it and me, and I was afraid.

Not of him.

I was afraid of what I might do to him if I got too close.

I didn’t know why.

I just knew.

The pounding in my head thundered as my gaze fell to his jaw, which, based on its hardness, might as well have been carved from granite.

Although his corded muscles were relaxed, I sensed that was just a facade—that he could spring into action at the mere hint of movement. The whispers confirmed that suspicion.

I found myself staring at his throat. The skin there was bruised, and I remembered a taste in my mouth. A sweet flavor that had long since faded. It had been his.

I couldn’t think his name. I couldn’t think too hard about anything.

If I tried, the pain worsened, dragging me to the edge of consciousness.

And I couldn’t allow myself to fall into oblivion again.

A primitive sort of intuition told me I wouldn’t sleep like the dead.

If my thoughts vanished—as unhelpful as they were—I would rise from my position against the wall but not as blood and bone.

I would rise as wrath and retribution and wouldn’t be in control.

That’s what the whispers wanted. Control.

That same primitive intuition warned me not to allow it.

My eyelids felt heavy, but I forced them open, my gaze shifting to the floor. Only a handful of minutes passed before it found its way back to him.

I couldn’t stop stealing glances.

The gods knew I’d tried, because it hurt to look upon him for any length of time. The whispers were always the loudest then, telling me the male couldn’t be trusted. That he would make me weaker.

But I wanted to look at him.

Despite the pain, doing so calmed me—at least until the yearning came. I wanted to be closer to him. To feel his arms around me and the warmth of his body against mine.

But I couldn’t.

If I did, I would—

A series of sharp, loud raps echoed through the chamber, causing me to stiffen, and my heart to plunge. My gaze darted to the door.

“It’s okay,” the male said, his tone soft and reassuring.

My mouth was dry as I met his gaze. Was it the other one? The…the one who made me think of a large, fawn-colored wolf?

I sucked in a harsh breath as pain sliced through the area between my temples.

“We can ignore whoever it is,” the male said.

The knocking kept coming.

And coming.

Anxiety built as I tightened my hold around my legs.

“It’s okay,” the male repeated, his lips curving up. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, though. It didn’t cause a—

Pain arced from temple to temple once more, forcing a stilted breath past my lips.

His golden eyes turned luminous as his nostrils flared, almost like he felt my pain.

The knocking continued.

And continued.

Then came a voice. “I know you’re in there.”

My gaze shot to the door. There was something familiar about the feminine voice.

“And I’m going to keep knocking until you answer,” she promised. “I have all day.”

“Fucking gods,” the male muttered under his breath, briefly closing his eyes.

“I have all night if it comes to that,” she tacked on.

A muscle flexed in his jaw just as the hot taste of anger filled the back of my throat. “I’ll handle this.” He rocked forward—

I locked up, fingers going numb from how tightly I was clutching my knees. I no longer felt the soft material of the robe beneath them.

He halted, his eyes closing once more as he swore again. “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t know what he apologized for.

I watched as he stood slowly. My gaze tracked over the taut muscles of his back as his long legs ate up the short distance between him and the door.

Gripping the handle, his shoulders rose with a deep breath I thought he took to calm himself, but it didn’t seem to work. He cracked open the door. “Tawny.”

That…name…

“Hawke,” she replied, mimicking his bland, dry tone.

For some reason, my lips tipped up. “Oh, I’m sorry.

I mean…Casteel,” she continued as a sharp ache pierced the area behind my eyes.

I breathed through it and squeezed my legs until my arms felt like they’d snap.

“Or should it be Your Highness? Or do you prefer Your Excellency of Many Names? How about Your Majesty—?”

“Cute,” the male interrupted.

“Thank you.”

His sigh could’ve shaken the walls. I wouldn’t have been surprised in the least if it had. He tilted his head. “And where were you?”

“Sorry,” came a muffled voice that sounded farther away. “I had to take care of, you know, basic bodily functions.”

“Of course,” the male muttered, refocusing on the one before him. “What can I do for you, Tawny?”

“I want to see Poppy.”

I straightened.

“She’s not here,” the male replied.

“Bullshit,” she snapped. “I know she’s in there.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because you wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t,” she said. I wanted to smile at that. “But what I don’t know is why you have her in a—”

“She’s asleep,” the male cut her off. “Something a normal person would’ve realized when no answer came after they knocked for three whole minutes.”

“I wasn’t knocking that long.”

“Yes. You. Were,” the male bit out, each word spoken with deliberate precision. “I counted.”

“That’s not weird or anything.” There was a pause. “But it doesn’t tell me why you’re here. In—”

“Don’t,” the male said. I stiffened at the coolness of his tone and the underlying thread of power that reminded me of… “Don’t finish that sentence, Tawny.”

There were several seconds of silence, and I had the distinct impression the woman on the other side of the door was debating the merits of ignoring the clear warning. Because she always—

Agony struck like lightning, sending me back against the wall.

“Is there a reason you’re only opening the door a foot?” she asked. The pain slowly eased.

“Not particularly.”

I didn’t think he spoke the truth. I slowly loosened my hold on my legs and leaned forward, planting my hands on the cool floor. My head felt like it was about to roll off my shoulders.

The woman at the door didn’t seem to believe him either. “Uh-huh.”

“Believe it or not—”

“I don’t,” she cut in.

“Poppy is asleep. I will let you know when you can see her.” He started to close the door. “Until then—”

“Nope.” A head full of snowy curls and a slender shoulder wedged itself between the doorframe and the door, and there…

“Fucking gods.” He moved quickly, blocking her as the hand at his side clenched. “What is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with you?” she shot back. “You won’t let me see my friend. The friend I’ve known longer than you. And you won’t tell me why you’re down here.”

Down here?

I inched forward, ignoring the throbbing in my head.

I caught sight of her face briefly before he blocked her once more.

The hair and eyes were nearly white, except for the pupils, which starkly contrasted with her rich-brown skin.

Her pretty features were recognizable to me, yet…

not. It was almost as if I knew her. And there was still this…

There was a flicker of something in my chest, like a fragile flame caught in the wind.

“I’m not the one foolishly trying to force themselves into the room where the Queen ”—he stepped forward, forcing her to lean back an inch or two—“and the King are.”

“The Queen is my friend, first and foremost,” she hissed.

My breath caught. That…that meant something to me. Something huge. Because the concept of a friend had been forbidden. Confusion rose as I scuttled back against the wall again.

Muscles flexed and rolled down his spine when his back stiffened. “If that is the case, then you wouldn’t be here trying to disrupt her rest.”