Page 133 of Claimed

I ignore his pained roar. ‘You don’t get to be the person who throws me in a dungeon and the person who decides when I stop bleeding.’

Pain and regret tear open his expression for half a heartbeat. Then he buries both beneath command. ‘I earned that.’

The honesty almost undoes me.

He continues, voice lower now. ‘I earned far worse. Say it all to me when your throat is whole. Stab me with every accusation. I will stand for it. I will give you my wrists, my blood, my body, whatever you require to recover your strength. Then we will find a way through this spell that does not involve me watching you drown in your own mouth.’

I grip the dresser harder. ‘Valentin.’

‘Gods, no! Please.’

The word stops me. The great Vampire King of New York stands several feet away, blood-dark mark crawling up his throat, fangs down, eyes burning, and says please like it costs him something ancient.

The Glass quiets and my breath breaks. He sees the effect, and hope flashes through him.

‘Come to me,’ he says. ‘Let me take you back to bed. We will call Rowan, tear the answer out of the world instead of you.’

My heart twists. ‘You don’t care what the secret is?’

‘I care,’ he says fiercely. ‘Netheris take me, I care so much I can taste my own madness. But I care more that you breathe. That you stay alive.’

I close my eyes but the tear escapes before I can stop it. And when I open them, he’s closer. Too close. His hand half-raised, trembling with the restraint of not touching me.

He must see the resolution in my eyes because a jagged growl tears out of him and his voice turns ragged. ‘Obey me, Eira.’

‘No.’ The word is soft. Final.

His mark pulses, the Glass flares and the bond between us pulls so tight I feel him inside every breath. His voice enters my mind, stripped of every royal edge.

Little hunter… please… I cannot watch this again.

I know, and I’m sorry.

Do you? Are you?

Yes.

Then why?

Because if I wait, I may lose you. If I don’t speak, I may lose myself. And I’m so tired of losing because someone else decided the terms.

He says nothing, and the silence between us becomes unbearable.

I press my palm flat against my chest, over the heart that has somehow decided to become invested in his continued existence.

‘Selphine wanted timing and control. She wants this to stay buried until it suits her.’ I take a breath that tastes of blood. ‘But she doesn’t get to own my mouth any more.’

Valentin’s face goes still. ‘Eira.’

‘I’m sorry.’ The words come out clear and stark and filled with six years’ worth of fear and sadness.

His eyes widen. ‘For what?’

‘For not telling you sooner and for letting fear make every decision. For making you hunt a ghost when she was standing right in front of you with knives and a bad attitude.’

His body locks. What do you mean… a ghost?

The Glass shrieks.