Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
“Right,” I whispered, wanting to press my cheek into his hand but somehow resisting.
He smiled slightly. “I do have something that you need. A gift. One I planned to give to you when we left the room. Before I became…sidetracked.”
Sidetracked? Was that what this was for him? Was it more for me?
“It’s not a ring,” he said. “But it’s something I think you’ll appreciate nonetheless.”
My brows furrowed in confusion. “What kind of gift?”
“The best kind,” he said. “Retribution.”
I had no idea how Casteel could be so cool and collected after that kiss, but as I glanced over at him, he looked like he’d just attended a reading of The History of The War of Two Kings and the Kingdom of Solis, which was as stimulating as watching grass grow.
It was almost like what had occurred in the pantry was a figment of my imagination, and if it weren’t for the feeling of aching unfulfillment, I would seriously be doubting what had happened. But it wasn’t. It was real. He’d kissed me, and he’d done so like his very life depended on it.
Was he truly that unaffected, and if so, what was the point in pretending?
Before I could use my senses, Casteel opened a heavy wooden door. The musty, damp scent was immediately recognizable.
“My gift is in the dungeon?” I asked, my steps slowing as we made our way down the cramped stairwell. My stomach churned at the scent.
“It may seem like a strange place for a gift, but you’ll understand in a moment.”
Ignoring the paranoid voice that whispered that this was some sort of trap, I moved along. After agreeing to the marriage, I doubted he planned to throw me into a cell. Still, it was unsettling to be here again, where I’d almost died.
A shadow peeled away from the wall as we reached the torch-lit hall. It was Kieran. The wolven’s pale gaze flicked from Casteel to me. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay. You?” I asked for some reason, and then felt my cheeks flush. There was no way he could know what’d happened in the pantry, even with his extra-special wolven—
Unless he knew because of the bond.
I really needed to figure out more about that bond.
His lips curved into a grin. “Just dandy.” He looked at his Prince. “And you?”
“The answer is the same as when you last asked,” Casteel said, and my brows pinched.
I turned to him. “Were you injured?”
“Would you fret with worry if I was?”
The corners of my lips turned down. No? Yes? “Not particularly.”
“Ouch.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “You wound me yet again.”
“He’s not wounded,” Kieran answered. “At least, not physically. Emotionally, I believe you left him shredded.”
I rolled my eyes. “Then why ask if he’s okay if he’s not hurt?”
Kieran started to reply, but Casteel beat him to it. “He’s a worrywart. Constantly fearing that I’ve been injured or that I’ve overexerted myself. Wanting to know if I’ve gotten eight hours of rest and eaten three square meals a day.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly it,” Kieran replied drolly.
Casteel flashed him a grin and then motioned to me. “Come. Your gift awaits.”
Having no idea what the two of them were going on about, I trailed after the Prince, beginning to suspect what my gift was. Retribution. The rich iron scent of blood was heavy in the air. Fresh. The sickeningly sweet floral undertone lingering beneath the blood confirmed my suspicions before I even saw what awaited me in the cell Casteel had stopped in front of.
Chained to the wall, arms spread wide and legs bound, stood Lord Chaney. He’d definitely seen better days. One eye was gone. Deep gouges streaked his face, caused by the knife I’d wielded. Blood leaked from his parted mouth in a continuous trickle. His shirt had been split open, revealing that the gash I’d seen earlier was part of three deep slashes in his chest. Claws had also scored his skin just below his throat and across his narrow torso. The shackles around his wrists and ankles were spiky, digging into his skin and drawing blood. He had to be in immeasurable pain.
There wasn’t an ounce of pity in me as I stared at the vampry.
“You didn’t kill him,” I said, and the Ascended opened one eye. It was more red than black.
“No.” Casteel leaned a hip against the bars, angling his body toward mine. “I wanted to. I still do. Badly. But he didn’t wound me, it wasn’t my skin he tore into. Not my blood he stole.”
My heart was hammering once again as I dragged my gaze from the vampry to Casteel.
“Retribution is yours, if you want it,” he said. “And if not, I will be your blade, the thing that ends his miserable existence. It’s your choice.” Reaching into his boot, he pulled a blade free and held it between us. It was my wolven dagger. “Either way, this belongs to you, whether it finds its way into the heart of an Ascended today or not.”