I know, as sure as day turns to night, that he was the one who called out to me from the shadows.
He carries himself just as I wield Sable: with precision, and the power to make any kill he sets his sights on. Dark shadows spill off him like liquid night pooling at his feet. The others clear a path for him, and the more he comes forward and into the moonlight, the easier it is to study him.
He is not like most of them. Of the noctis gathering into the courtyard, he’s the only one who holds my gaze, his icy blue eyes burning into mine instead of fixating on the throbbing vein in my throat.
Unsurprisingly, he wears garments fit for royalty. The lavish, form-fitting outfit does little to protect his body and more to accentuate his impossibly flawless physique.
My treacherous eyes drift to the unbuttoned jerkin, only momentarily snagging on the red amulet resting there before a new distraction catches my attention. There’s nothing beneath that black silk. No padded doublet. No shirt or tunic to speak of. Just firm, alabaster skin as pale as sugar, and seemingly just as sweet.
Of its own accord, my gaze drives deeper, languid as it travels over the deep grooves of muscles of his abdomen that are still visible beneath his garment. Men and women alike would grovel for a chance to behold such a beautiful creature. Hell, who wouldn’t when everything else in this world is so hollowed and monstruous looking. Hunger, fear, and a constant need to run have made emaciated shells of much of humankind, some of us even looking more like monsters than people.
Rowland has always been one of the exceptions, but even the noctis prince puts his disciplined muscles to shame.
But I suppose that’s one of the many ways you can spot a noctis from the rest of us. Especially those of wealth and prestige.
His brilliance doesn’t make him any less of a predator. He’s one of the deadliest.
I’ve heard the rumors. The carnage that has befallen The United Realm at his behest—never by his own hands though. Gods forbid he gets those pristinely clean fingers dirty. No, he sends his servants out to the poorest regions with the sole purpose of capturing young men and women to take back to his lair, never to be heard from or seen again.
I can’t even begin to fathom the number of people who have died in his jaws.
And if that wasn’t enough to tarnish the tantalizing thoughts I had about his near-perfect physique, the spattering of red that dusts the plane of his chest is.
Blood. Fresh, from the looks of it.
He may be handsome, but he is still dangerous. A vibrant, alluring flower with petals that are poisonous to the touch.
I snap my glaring gaze back to his, determined to show no fear—or any of the other feelings I’d been experiencing moments before.
Relaxing into the trap I so foolishly walked into, I sit taller on my heels, and feign calmness. “Great. Aroyalbloodsucker. As if this day couldn’t get any worse, now I have to deal with the ego of a prince.”
Glee flashes behind his bright eyes. “Ah, I see my reputation precedes me.”
I shrug, casually glancing to the opposite end of the street, though on the inside I am anything but. There are more noctis here than I would think necessary to trap one, meager human. But these are desperate times, I suppose.
“If it does,” I say, the epitome of apathy. “Your reputation has falsely glorified you.”
The prince’s stride falters. “Oh? Do tell. What it is you expected of me, human?”
Human.
He spits the word like someone might saymaggotorcarcass. We are grotesque to him, a fungus needing to be wiped clean from the realm.
Still, I remain as neutral as dirt. If he’s attempting to goad me, it won’t work. I can’t let him see how much I loathewhen they call ushuman. I can’t give him, or the others standing nearby, that satisfaction.
With any luck, the egos of noctis men are just as frail as human men, like dry autumn leaves, a mere breath of wind can crumple them.
I muster a smug grin. “Rumors said you were devastating, both in beauty and brutality. And yet, here I am. Alive, despite being woefully outnumbered. And there you are, nothing more than a cocky prince who can’t even afford proper clothes.”
He glances down at his exposed chest. His crooked smile tells me it’s more obligatory than anything. This is a game to him as much as it is to me. See who can outlast the longest. See who will bring the other to their knees. As much as I’d love to believe I’ll be the one proclaiming checkmate, the cuff around my wrist has me doubting myself.
But I have to try.
As much as I hate the noctis, I hate him even more.
His family is the reason mine is gone.
Slowly, he brings one of his fingers to the exposed, rigid muscles of his chest and wipes one of the droplets of blood away, bringing it to his mouth. No one has ever looked more sated as he laps at it.
