Page 33 of Vow of the Undead (The Bloodrune Saga #1)

His voice, still dulled with my compulsion, broke through. “I don’t always kill everyone I taste, but everyone I kill I’ve tasted.”

Sick.

More of this power tumbled out of my mouth with a demand for what I needed. “I compel you as I can with all of your kind. Give me what I want.” Give me the lost history.

His icy blue eyes flashed to gold like an animal in the night before red replaced the gold. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

It was the truth. Somehow, an instinct carved in the marrow of my bones told me this was exactly what he’d been compelled to tell me, nothing more.

His broad chest heaved with the effort of fighting against my power.

The compulsion slipped from my fingers, as if the power was water and I could not grasp it again until I had the energy to dive into it.

I had to immerse myself in the sensations, in focus, something my tired brain could no longer keep hold of.

I licked my lips, claiming control of myself after the magic of the trance stripped me of my breath. “I’m not like you.”

Anger built at the edges of his jaw. “What the fuck was that?”

“That was what it feels like to be controlled,” I snapped. “Pushed around, like you and your damn executioners do to people every day.”

“They’re not—” He pushed out a hot breath and raked his fingers through his hair. His thick arm flexed from the effort until he dropped it at his side and pinned me with his gaze. “You know it’s funny, you want the truth, but you sure like to lie, Silver. Want to share your real name?”

My blood chilled. It wasn’t real. He couldn’t have just said that.

Don’t think about it .

Don’t think about it.

Don’t think about it.

I was just Silver, a simple witch from Skaldir.

He marched toward me. “I suspected the Gods had taken hold of you, but then whenever you were…wanting, I didn’t hear a hint of them, so I thought you hadn’t invited them in.”

“I didn’t?—”

He huffed. “But I was wrong—damnit!” Slamming his fist against the wall behind my head, he didn’t even wince as his knuckle smacked into stone. “I really hoped it wasn’t true.”

Chaos. I didn’t know if this word came from Loki’s voice or my own mind, but the king’s flared temper was proof of promised chaos.

King Drakkar glared down at me until he hovered, bringing his face inches from mine.

His wild eyes searched mine. “The only way to take back your mind is to sever your ties with the Gods. Bind yourself to the only thing out of Odin’s reach.

We have to move the wedding up, tonight, before the sun would normally rise. ”

I backed away, shuffling over the dress’s crumpled fabric. “I won’t marry a murderer.”

He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “I’ll either marry you, or I’ll show you exactly how I kill.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised but claws clamped around my lungs and the blood-stenched air became scarce.“You’ll kill me?”

“Not if you cast off the Gods.”

Which meant casting off their gifts, the visions, this new…compulsion, everything that was meant to help my mother, Ragna, and the other exiled women. “Then you’ll free the witches?”

“When did I say that?”

“The lost history says we aren’t a threat and tradition says you must abide by the truth of history.”

He laughed. “There is a lot of truth I want to share with you once we’re bound together. So what will it be? Marriage or death, my wife.”

“You can’t make me do this?—”

“You have until first light to decide.”

Every moment I thought he almost cared for me shriveled into distant memory. They were all lies. The monster standing before me had lost every bit of that desire for me. While he was once concerned for my bloodless hands, he now laughed at my sole purpose—the only thing I wanted.

My heart cracked.

“How can you be so cold?” I whispered. It was a foolish question because I shouldn’t care.

“How can you let Odin ransack your mind?”

I shook my head. “He hasn’t.” Odin never spoke to me, and the day he did, I would fall to my knees, rejoicing for the connection to Odin himself.

“Whichever God is speaking to you doesn’t matter,” he seethed. “Odin is the Allfather, the fucking origin of them all. I’d hoped you would become mine, but you already belong to him.” His mouth twitched, his fangs were no longer jutting out. “Unless you choose me. I will be your God.”

Everything about this claim was wrong. Twisted. Blasphemous.

I frowned, defiance building with fervor in my chest and in the fury lacing my voice. “You’re not a God. You’re deluded. You’re the king who ripped a mother from her children, twice.” And so many more times I could not count. Hundreds of other families with witches suffered the same fate.

He said nothing, clearly uninterested in trying to defend himself. Though I’d put a few steps between us, his powerful presence still seemed to tower over me. His chest heaved as if desperate for a ragged breath and his eyes locked on me.

Cast off this colorless cage.

That was what this marriage would be, a cage built with stone walls and an iron grip. I had to run from this betrothal. A betrothal that the thought of consummating shouldn’t have weakened my knees and left my thighs slick.

But this clash of feelings was chaotic and exactly what Loki loved.

I backed into the hall. In my absence, the heavy door slammed shut and I abandoned this horrible scene in my wake.

Still vibrating with the swell of energy, I ran faster than I thought possible in these heavy skirts. I had to run, because even if he exposed my secret, at least I didn’t bind myself to a lifetime beside a cruel king…a monster who murdered his own people.