*Chapter Twenty-Eight*

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~ KINLEY ~ 


Like the blooming flowers and unfolding leaves that sprung up on the vines in that magical realm, I can feel bruises forming as Thron escorts me to the Dark Prince's chambers. Angry, purple, and painful—a collar of Zaidan's ire, a mark of my betrayal. It wasn't long ago Zaidan's lips were on mine. Heck, it wasn't long ago I thought Zaidan would have been the vampire who'd claim me. How fast things change. If Tristan had not shown up in my room when I was with Zaidan and I had changed my mind, would Zaidan of understood? Would he have stopped?

A few turns, dodging of pink water puddles and soapsuds, and Thron's heavy fist is banging on the Prince's chamber doors.

My eyes widen. Oh no. I touch the bruises becoming angrier on my neck, a neck that was bitten before Zaidan showed up. I squeeze my thighs tightly together. Tristan. The stickiness. They can—

The door swings open. A robe loosely hangs on the Dark Prince's frame while a pair of black pants cling to his hipbones the way Tristan's pants did when he invoked Tahkra back in Cistoca.

The Prince's gaze moves from Thron's taller stature to my short one. When it lands on me, it feels like Thron's fist banging on the door—heavy and leg trembling.

"If it isn't my sweet child. What brings your rare and sorely missed presence to my chambers?" The Dark Prince leaves the door open, not waiting for me to answer as he retreats into his room.

"Rakasha suggested I looked pale, and a vial of your blood would do me some good."

Thron thrusts me forward into the Prince's chambers. The door slams shut behind him as he enters with me.

"Is that all? And here I thought you came by because it has been a while since we last spoke." A thin red line becomes visible as the Prince uses his nail to slice his wrist.

"With Rakasha's return, I knew you'd be busy," I say, hoping the quaking of my legs doesn't enter my voice.

"I'm never too busy for my sweet little Kinley.

All of the massarra are in here—two of them I've never seen before. The blonde one stands by the window, blowing on the glass as she draws symbols onto the pane with her finger while she mutters to herself. Short bursts of giggles disrupt whatever conversation she's having with herself. The other massarra I've never seen has a veil covering her face. The others who never seem to have the time of day for me are lounging on the chaises and loveseats scattered in the room. My attention pulls to the two massarra on the Prince's bed wearing satin robes that slip down their shoulders.

They are the trinkets of perversion that adorn his bed.  Tristan's accusation hammers into the increased ticking of my pulse. It doesn't seem so much like an accusation now.

"Do I not supply you with enough dresses? Or do you enjoy teasing the guards with your forbidden flesh?" Scarlet pours into the glass the Prince places on the dresser in his room.

"Oh, um. That. I—" Flashes of Tristan ripping my dress open, his hands on me, and his blood running down my throat hit me so hard it feels like my head gets spun when they collide with the visual of Zaidan's eye rolling to a stop by my foot.

"There was an accident. Involving our sons," Thron answers for me.

"An accident that left Kinley without proper cover and blood all over. Now, I'm intrigued. Here, give this to Kinley. She seems stuck in place. Unusual for her considering she used to beg me to let her sit on my lap." The Prince raises the glass high in the air for Thron. His gaze stays on me as he sits in the single chair in the room. A chair that faces his bed.

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