They never went into the room where Draven’s cell was either, just looked through the small window in the door to make sure he was still there. Even imprisoned, the Moroi Prince was feared.
Aside from me, the prince’s only visitor was Lucian. I hadn’t told Samara that though. While I didn’t approve of her devotion to that half-Fae bastard, I wasn’t going to tell her that the man who had tortured him for most of his life paid him regular visits. He currently wasn’t able to do him any physical harm, but Lucian did enjoy bringing a bottle of wine down to Draven’s cell and recounting the many ways he had tormented the fallen prince over the years.
It was fucked up. I didn’t understand what Carmilla saw in him. It was on my growing list of things that just didn’t add up.
It wasn’t Lucian who walked through the door though—it was Demetri.
Another mystery I didn’t fucking get. Why was Carmilla working with him? And why was she so keen on Samara marrying him again? She’d never mentioned that to me, and when I’d asked her about it days ago, she’d just brushed me off.
“Is there a reason you’re groping my wife?” he asked idly as his sharp hazel eyes scrutinized the blankets covering Samara, as if he was trying to figure out where exactly my hands were.
A warning growl rumbled from me. Samara was half delirious. What type of person would take advantage of her ina situation like this? Even when I’d been moving her around, I’d been careful to keep my hands over her clothes They were currently resting around her lower back and ribs, but he couldn’t see that.
“Ex-wife.” I gave him a cold look.
“Not for much longer. She’ll be mine again soon.” He shrugged and moved closer to the cell. I’d closed it when I’d stepped inside to be with Samara, and despite how much Carmilla wanted Demetri around, she hadn’t given him the ability to open Samara’s cell. Which told me, at least on some level, she didn’t trust the Laurent Heir either.
“She was never yours to begin with.” Tension coiled within me. I wanted nothing more than to rip out Demetri’s throat. He was a threat to Samara, and despite how much she currently hated me, Iwouldprotect her. Unfortunately, Carmilla had been quite clear that I wasn’t to lay a finger on him again. The little prick had mentioned me losing my temper and slamming him into the wall days ago. “Your marriage to her was nothing but a political move to strengthen the alliance between our Houses. Samaraneverbelonged to you.”
“And you think she belongs to you now?” Demetri skimmed his fingers across the bars of the cage. “Do you really think you’ll get her in the end? After everything you’ve done to her?” He gave me a knowing glance. “She’llneverchoose you. Not now.”
The deep pit that had opened up in my soul when I’d handed over that cursed crown cracked open a little more. Demetri’s eyes glinted in the dim lighting of the dungeon, and he smiled at seeing his barbed remark strike true.
Samara hissed and tensed in my arms. Another cramp must have been hitting her. The tea that dulled the pain was also a light sedative, and she’d practically chugged the kettle earlier. Her eyelids fluttered for a second, and she turned her head awayfrom my chest, inhaling deeply. She started to settle back down, but then she abruptly went completely still in my arms.
“Samara’s a smart girl. She’ll eventually come to realize that marrying me again is in not only her best interest, but that of our Houses—and the Moroi realm as a whole.”
I stared at him. Moroi tended to be arrogant, but Demetri was taking it to a whole other level.
Samara started to shift her position, her movements slow enough and hidden by the blanket that I didn’t think Demetri noticed as he paced on the other side of the bars.
“You cheated on her,” I said flatly. “All you had to do was not be an asshole and she’d still be married to you right now.”
Because Samara always did right by the House. I’d doubted her for a long time, but I knew that now. Carmilla wanted what was best too. They just needed more time to come to an agreement, but Demetri would not be part of that agreement. That was a line in the sand I knew Samara wouldn’t cross. She might hate me, but she loved Kieran, Alaric, and Roth—and Draven, but I was ignoring that for now. She would never leave them.
And they’d slit Demetri’s throat before they ever let him lay a finger on her again. If I didn’t do it first.
“That was a misunderstanding.” Demetri waved a hand dismissively.
“She walked in on you fucking someone else after she’d been loyal to you that entire time.” I bared my fangs at him. Everyone at House Harker had known how much Samara and Kieran had wanted each other, but he’d never pushed and she’d never crossed that line. When Samara gave someone her loyalty, she meant it—whether they deserved it or not.
Suddenly, the dagger on my thigh smoothly slid free from the sheath. I should probably be concerned about Samara having a blade so close to my cock—not to mention a lot of vital organs—but I couldn’t bring myself to stop her. Or warn Demetri that he might want to step away from the cell.
“It’s not like I expect either of us to be monogamous,” Demetri continued. “Although I won’t allow her to see that courtier she’s so obsessed with or that asshole advisor. There are rumors of another lover my beautiful wife has collected as well—that will have to end too. Anyone on the side must be casual. I’ll give her some options to choose fr?—”
In a heartbeat, Samara was on her feet and across the cell. She’d timed it perfectly, waiting until Demetri reached the cell wall and had begun to turn away to walk in the other direction. Her arm was through the bars and wrapped around his chest before he even knew what was happening. She pulled him back hard and pressed the dagger she’d stolen from me against his throat.
“Not your wife, asshole,” Samara spat, her voice low and dangerous.
“Samara! Don’t—” Demetri yelped, and a second later, the scent of his blood filled the air. Not much, but more than just a scratch’s worth.
I rose to my feet and strolled over to the cell door. Tremors ran through Samara’s body. From pain or rage, I didn’t know. Probably both.
She didn’t say anything as I leaned against the bars, making no move to help Demetri or get the dagger away from her.
“Do something,” he ground out before flinching when Samara dug the blade in a little deeper. Nothing vital had been hit, but she was real close to the artery, and blood was steadily dripping from where she’d broken the skin.
I ignored him and looked at Samara. Her black hair was stuck to the sides of her face thanks to the sweat practically pouring off her. Normally, Samara’s rich brown skin had agolden undertone to it, but she looked pale now, and her dark eyes stood out starkly on her face.
