‘We sense that the ring has not come into your possession as promised.’

‘It will, master. I will have it very soon.’

He spun, jaws extended, rows of fangs jutting forward. ‘You should have it already.’ Spittle stung her face.

‘It was … ’ No, no, that was not the right answer. If the Castus Sanguis found out about the girl, they would be furious. If they got to her first … ‘Yes, master, I should. I failed you, but I will redeem myself.’

He relaxed. ‘Yes, we have faith you will. Or we will find another.’ He continued circling. The scrape of his hooves abraded her nerves.

‘We don’t want to find another, child. You understand that. But we want the covenant abolished as soon as possible.’

‘As do I, my liege.’ Neither did she want to give up the power that would be hers. She’d been through too much already. She braced herself for whatever he might deal her. For such power, she could withstand anything. She repeated the word like a mantra. Anything, anything …

‘Good. Do you have a sacrifice in place? You know what we require—’

‘The light and the dark shall collide, and the covenant shall be broken.’ She quoted the old text, knowing it would please him and hoping it would hide the fact that she had no sacrifice and no idea where to get it.

‘Yes, that is the way of it. You are the darkest of all our children, the one in whom we are most pleased.’ The shadows disappeared from his lower half. An unstoppable shudder ran through her at the sight of him. Her words had pleased him more than she’d expected. She swallowed a mouthful of bile. He kneeled on the bed and ran a claw up her thigh. She shivered and his mouth pulled back in a frightening smile.

‘Your pound of flesh is due.’

Chapter Thirteen

Mal’s scent tugged Chrysabelle from her dreams, waking her with the cool promise of more. She opened her eyes to slits. Definitely not the cot she’d slept in the other night. Too comfortable. She was on her side in this strange bed, staring at a wall of old books. A soft circle of light washed over her from a squat candle under a hurricane lantern on the night table.

And everything – the bed linens, the air, her skin – smelled like the vampire’s dark, spicy scent. Wait. That must mean this was his bed. Oh no. No, no, no. She held her breath for a moment as the possibilities made her blush with horror. The blood sickness. Sweet holy mother, what had she done?

She forced that horrible prospect out of her head and took stock of herself. Her head was clear. The fever gone. Her body held no unfamiliar soreness, except … a faint pang in her arm and a dull throb in her foot.

Using her elbows, she pushed to a sitting position and extended her bare arm. The covers fell down around her waist. Air cooled her skin and her signum winked back in the candlelight. Why was she only in her bra and – she lifted the sheet – underwear? First things first. On her arm, medical tape held a puff of cotton to the inside of her elbow. She hooked her nail underneath and peeled it off. A tiny pinpoint of red marked her skin.

Not only had someone stripped her down to her underwear, they’d drained her. At once she felt relieved and violated and scared. Who had undressed her? How had they … disposed of the excess blood? That blood was hers to give or not. Those rights reverted back to her with Algernon’s death. Had the vampire … She closed her eyes against the thought and inhaled in hopes of finding some calm before investigating her foot. The thickness of his scent spoiled the air for a proper breath. Please, don’t let my freedom be so short-lived.

The tiniest sound, like skin brushing leather, brought her head up. Beyond the circle of light, all was black, but in the far corner, the shadows were darker than the rest.

No wonder his scent choked her. He was in the room, watching.

She tugged the sheet to her throat, covering all but the signum on her hands. She glared in his direction. ‘Show yourself.’

Light flared as he struck a match and lit a squat candle on the small table beside him. ‘Didn’t want to disturb your sleep.’ He shook the match out. The extra glow illuminated more of the room. Additional shelves, all packed with books. Any bare space on the walls held a collection of long swords. Other than that, there was nothing personal, nothing to indicate the room’s occupant held anything or anyone dear.

‘So you left a candle burning on the table next to me?’ She tucked her knees to her chest. ‘Your concern is touching.’ And his need to watch her unnerving. He’d left that candle lit to see her better. And her signum too, no doubt.

Silver shifted through his eyes. ‘You’re feeling better.’ He stood, and without invitation moved his leather chair next to the bed. A bruise grayed his left cheek and surrounded his eye. And he’d shaved, revealing a hard jaw.

‘Who undressed me?’

‘You did.’

She didn’t remember doing that, but better than at someone else’s hands. She peered over the edge of the bed. Nothing. ‘Where are my clothes? I’d like to put them back on.’

‘They’re in the gym.’ Mal’s eyes stayed on her face, but he’d probably seen his fill of the rest of her last night.

‘Why are they—’

‘You didn’t want them, and when you passed out, it became a nonissue.’

‘I took my clothes off in the gym.’ And he’d obviously been there to witness it, which meant he’d seen her signum. All of them. Mortification heated her cheeks.