A light in the flame

I snorted. “Sure sounds like one when you say it.”

“Then I apologize. I’m sorry.”

My head jerked. “You’re seriously apologizing to me?”

He came back to me, offering me a glass. “You don’t think you deserve one?”

“Uh…” I thought about that as I took the drink, unsure if I did or not. I shrugged.

His lips curled faintly. “Well, you have it anyway.” He downed the whiskey in one swallow. “I’m trying to understand.”

“Understand what?” I took a little less-impressive gulp, but half of the whiskey was gone when I lowered my glass.

He sat his glass behind one of his swords, dragging the edge of his fangs over his lower lip. “How you’ve become who you are.”

The whiskey hit my chest and then my stomach in a warm rush. “I’m not really following what you’re asking.”

“Most wouldn’t attempt to seduce and kill the Primal of Death. Not even if it was a duty drilled into them from birth. Not even for their kingdom. Then turn around and plan to do the same thing to another Primal. I wouldn’t even say it would be a lack of courage on their part.”

“Just a lack of common sense on mine?” I retorted.

That damn eyebrow rose again. “You said it.”

I took another drink before I threw the glass at his face. “My kingdom is dying. I believed—we all believed—it was due to the deal King Roderick made. What was I supposed to do?”

“Literally anything else.”

My fingers tightened on the glass. “Like what, All-Knowing One? Ask you to stop the Rot? Why would that have even crossed my mind when we believed the Rot was due to the deal expiring, and not something you were doing? We didn’t even know who Kolis truly was.” Or even who and what I was. But gods knew I wasn’t going there right now. “So, what should I have done? Summoned a god or Primal again and tried to make another deal? Kicked the can down the road for someone else to deal with? Live my kind of life?” I laughed harshly. “Or just do nothing and let my kingdom die?”

“And what kind of life did you really live?” he asked quietly.

The heat returned, sweeping through my chest, and it had very little to do with the whiskey. I set the glass on the desk. Rhain returned then with the items Nyktos had requested. Sending me a sharp look, he quietly placed the bowl and towel on the desk beside the swords. He quickly left, closing the doors behind him.

But what the god had said before Nyktos arrived remained with me. “What have you sacrificed for me?”

Nyktos’s eyes lifted to mine. “What has one of my guards said?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“That’s not an answer.” My heart thumped heavily.

“It’s because I haven’t sacrificed anything,” he said, and I wasn’t sure I believed him. “Lift your sweater.”

I blinked, wondering if the whiskey had gotten to me that quickly. “Excuse me?”

“You were wounded. I want to see how bad it is.”

“It’s not—”

“Lift your sweater and allow me to check your injury, Sera.” He took a deep breath. “Please.”

I hesitated, only because he’d asked this time. And only because he’d said please, and that was still a weakness of mine.

Nyktos briefly closed his eyes. “I don’t think you’re wounded enough that you’ll need blood, so you don’t have to worry about me taking advantage of you.”

The fact that I felt even the tiniest bit of disappointment at hearing that told me I needed a hefty dose of whatever Nyktos had just insinuated I lacked. Common sense.

Thick lashes lifted. Silver eyes lit softly from behind pierced mine. Knowing my luck, this was probably one of those moments where he was either intentionally or unintentionally reading my emotions. He would’ve felt the disappointment, and I didn’t even want to know what he thought—if he saw me as someone so desperate for affection that I would seek it from someone who didn’t even want friendship from me.

And that would be accurate on some level. My entire life lacked not only touch but also affection. I did crave it, but I wasn’t desperate enough to take whatever meager scraps were offered to me by anyone.

I just wanted his affection because I thought I’d had a taste of it before he learned the truth. He’d wanted me then, to the point of distraction, but I thought he had also been fond of me. That he cared. Now, there was only a physical desire, one that he’d likely deny to his very last breath.

Then what he said struck me. “Wait. Do you think you took advantage of me after you gave me your blood?”

“I knew what my blood would do to you. I should’ve been able to restrain myself or left you alone the moment you started feeling the effects.”

I stared at him. “My reaction had very little to do with your blood.”

“Sera.”

“And everything to do with my attraction to you. I told you that then. It hasn’t changed.”

His jaw flexed. “Even so, I should’ve been able to control myself instead of becoming a man with no control over his body.”

I laughed. “You are not only a man.”

“Just because I’m a Primal doesn’t mean my body responds differently.”

“I didn’t realize that Primals—or men in general—had such little control over their cocks,” I snapped, a

“That’s not what I—never mind.” His eyes flared bright briefly. “Let me see your wound.”

“Whatever.” I grabbed the hem and the slip underneath, lifting them to my ribs. “It’s not bad. See?” I looked down, cringing slightly at the thin gash ru

“There’s no such thing as a flesh wound.”

I started to lower my sweater, but Nyktos palmed my hips. The contact startled me enough that I didn’t protest as he lifted me onto the desk. His hands lingered there. The reminder of his strength was always a surprise. It made me feel incredibly dainty, and I was not even in the same realm as dainty. No part of me wasn’t, as Tavius had once said, plump.

Fucking gross bastard.

Gods, I almost wished he was still alive so I could shove something harder than a whip down his throat.

Nyktos’s eyes lifted to mine. “You’re projecting again.”

“Sorry,” I muttered as he reached for the cloth. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know. I’m doing it because I want to.”

He’d said that before. And my reckless heart leapt, just like then. He pressed his fingers to the skin beneath the wound, the touch gentle and yet another shock. I jolted.

“Sorry.” He withdrew his hand. “I didn’t mean to cause pain.”

“You didn’t. It’s just…I wish your touch was warm again,” I said, which wasn’t entirely untrue. “Did it warm because you fed?” I asked, knowing that Nyktos rarely fed. From what I could gather, Primals didn’t need to feed often unless they were wounded and weakened. And I had weakened him, just a little, when I hit him with that blast of eather.

He shook his head. “My skin has never warmed to the touch after feeding. It has always been cold.”

“Then why…?” I figured it out. “The embers?”

“I am Death,” he reminded me. “And you carry the embers of life in you. Your blood is what warmed my skin.”

“Will my blood have any other effects on you?”

There was a quick upward curl of his lips. “That is yet to be seen.”

I was staring way too hard at his mouth, so I shifted my gaze to his…throat. Something about what he’d said didn’t make sense. He wasn’t the true Primal of Death, just a Primal of Death. So why would his skin be cold in the first place? Then again, maybe it was because he was a Primal of Death.

Now I was just confusing myself. “I wonder if Taric could taste it. I mean, he knew I had at least one ember in me when he went through my memories, but if he hadn’t, would he still have known?”

Eather flashed brilliantly in Nyktos’s eyes. “No other will feed from you, so that’s not something you’ll need to worry about.”