Only a thin shift covered my most vulnerable parts, hiding my hips, the lowest part of my belly, and the juncture between my thighs.
Lukain’s hand was surprisingly soft for how violent of a man I knew him to be, and how often he wielded a weapon. I expected callused ridges, yet my body melted when he skimmed his fingers over my wrist.
He shot me a small smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” My grayskin master gently pushed on my arm to make me recline fully into the mountain of pillows. “Rest.”
“I . . . I don’t feel like resting.”
His eyes flared when I said the words—dark pools of crimson matched my own dark orbs. I choked past something in my throat and cleared it.
My breathing came shallow. From his touch, my nipples shamefully pebbled. The ache between my thighs began. I was keenly aware how this man who had practically raised me through my adolescent years—molding me into a fighter, a survivor—was fully dressed in his black leathers, while I lay before him pale and practically naked.
The sight of his sinfully attractive face looming over me like a sharp blade stole my thoughts. For a moment, I was dumbstruck.
Then the recent memories flooded me and I blinked wildly to break eye contact with him. “J-Jinneth.”
He nodded deeply, perching on the edge of the bed in a way that sidled his ass against my leg and nearly made me shiver from our closeness. “She has been chosen, little grimmer.”
“Chosen?” I eked out, the hope draining from my voice and eyes.
“Demilord Tymon Aldion, the man whose lap she sat upon, has picked Jinneth to be his broodstock. His human mistress and concubine.” He frowned. “You will not see her again.”
My heart snapped in two. “Just like that?”
“I’m afraid so.” He put his hand on my shoulder, eliciting the same torrid response as before no matter how hard I tried to fight it down. His palm ghosted my skin in a gentle petting motion. “She always knew what she was getting into, Sephania.”
I snarled, “Not that you gave her any choice.”
“Jinneth will want for nothing,” he replied. “She is in a good place.”
“Yes, a good place pumping out half-vampire whelps for thosemonstersin the ballroom!”
Pain lanced through me at my outburst.
Lukain’s face softened. It was the softest I’d ever seen it. I hadn’t known he was capable of such a pitying expression, which only made me angrier.
It wasn’t Master Lukain I was angry at. Unfairly, it was Jinneth. For killing Aelin, for stopping the duel . . .For leaving me. Like everyone else. Why couldn’t you just let Aelin have him! We’d be on our way back to the Firehold by now!
The heavy guilt and truth flared alive a second later.No. We wouldn’t be headed home. I would be dead.
I gulped past a lump in my throat. My attention turned from my lost friend to the man sitting next to me. His body heat was a tidal wave I couldn’t resist.
“Garroway?” I asked. “The half-blood I fought.”
Lukain’s brow threaded. “What of him? He left.”
“Helget? And Lord Ashfen? I saw him—”
“Also left. The party is over, little grimmer. You needn’t worry.” He petted me more, trying to calm me. “Rirth is fine, Kemini is not, and soon we will head home. Only Jinneth was chosen out of the five girls. It’s a good thing she’s gone, too. I don’t take kindly to people murdering my property.”
“She did it for me.”
“I know.”
He smiled then, tilting his head. Our eyes locked and I felt the connection form between us—a connection that shifted my worldview.
I was a young woman who had seen nineteen summers. Nearly a third of them had been spent in this slaver’sunderground home. He had fed me, whittled me into a weapon, and taught me to defend myself from the horrors of this world.
“Sephania.” Lukain’s voice was soft, almost as soft as his touch. It had a needful note to it. “Before departing, Skartovius Ashfen showed interest in choosing you as broodstock.”
