Page 17 of The Midnight Arrow
When he let go of my wrist, I pulled away, standing from the bed. I tried to get hold of myself, going to the candle burningon the side table, scraping a piece of wax with the edge of my fingernail that had pooled onto the wood.
“You don’t need to worry,” he said, his voice soft. “We don’t believe inkyranas.”
I closed my eyes.
“Surely you know that,” he finished.
“I know,” I said, though my voice sounded harsh, a little defensive.
“The days of blood mates are long past. The gods and goddesses of Krynn do not look after Allavar, nor its people. That’s not to say…”
I turned back to him. Despite his sorry state, despite the infection that was heating his body from the inside out, I would’ve had to be blind to ignore the curved outline of his erection against my sheets. He brought a knee up when he noticed my straying gaze, and I bit my lip, my hands fluttering at my sides, unsure what to do with them.
“That’s not to say what?” I asked, scrambling for words.
He blew out a rough breath. “That’s not to say that there are not remnants of it that linger like stardust in the air. Allavar is a strange place. This land is infused with magic that beings from all over the universe have tried to study, to capture, to quantify. And that is only in the Above.”
I swallowed hard. “What…what does that have to do withkyranas?”
“Nothing and everything,” he replied, the corner of his lip quirking. His riddles again. “Maybe it’s magic why you call to me. Why I would know your scent anywhere. Why your blood tastes like ambrosia. Why I’m craving it even now after I’ve gotten my fill.”
I stared at him in surprise, his gentle words like a song that threaded musically through my ears, down my throat, and fluttered in my belly.
“I don’t know if my ancestors knew what they were doing, mating with the Allavari. What that bloodline would create. Even still, the Allavari blood tames those berserker rages and the strength a Kylorr would get from akyranas’ blood. Those baser, primal parts of ourselves aretemperedwith magic, not fed. Kylorr of old could have razed down an entire city on the blood of theirkyrana. Me?” His smile returned, easy but tired. “I only wish to listen to your voice and let it lull me back to sleep, though I am sated on your blood. Does that make you feel better, little witch?”
No.
“A little,” I said. Mindlessly, I scraped at more wax on the table. “There are some Kylorr in Rolara who still believe inkyranas.”
“And who am I dissuade them?” Lorik asked. “But akyranapairing has not been reported in Allavar in nearly three hundred years, when the portal to the Below was reopened. They can believe what they want. Me? I think it’s more romantic to choose your mate, not have one be chosen for you. What do you think?”
I chuckled, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. The tingling sensation was beginning to ebb, and I felt more grounded, my heart beginning to steady.
“So when you feed on blood normally…” I trailed off. “It feels like that?”
Lorik’s gaze burned. “I didn’t say that.”
Oh.
“It’s like attraction,” he said. “A Kylorr will like the taste of someone and not another. You?” He blew out a rough breath, his leg shifting underneath the sheet. “I like your blood very, very much, Marion. We fit one another in that way. It’s natural. It’s notuncommon, but no, it doesn’t happen every time. I’ve only experienced it once before.”
“A lover?” I asked before I thought better of it.
He smiled, watching me. His teeth seemed sharper in the low light, but I couldn’t find it in me to be afraid.
“Yes.”
I nodded.
“Have you ever been fed from before?” he wanted to know.
“Once,” I told him. “My sister, Aysia.”
His brow furrowed. “Was she sick?”
I knew why he was asking. It wasn’t common practice to feed on a family member unless the circumstances were dire.
“She was dying. It…it didn’t save her,” I said quietly.