Avianna was far from a youngling. I bristled at the comment, rage flowing through my veins, elevating my heart rate.
She’s not yours.
That mark on her hand begged to differ.
“My sister makes her own choices,” Alek decreed. “I would no more force her hand in marriage than I would hand her over to be tortured.”
“If that’s the truth, then this matter is settled.” The grin that curved James’s mouth was sinister. “Because she decided already.”
“She signed a pre-betrothal agreement that only obligates her to an open discussion about an actual betrothal. She is her own person and owes you nothing unless she signs the betrothal contract,” Alek said, his voice smooth and unruffled.
“And that discussion is set for six nights from now,” James spat.
Dagon shifted his weight, his attention darting back and forth between Samuel, who was his oldest friend, and Alek, his king. “You would really force a female into marriage knowing she doesn’t want you?” he asked Samuel.
Samuel looked away.
“You would really risk dividing our people into a civil war while you fight off these human attacks?” James levied his own question at Alek. “You cannot fight a war on all sides, my king, and if you weaken the support around you, the entire monarchy will fall.”
Well, if that wasn’t a fucking threat.
“Dagon, please understand. Saint is unstable—” Samuel began.
“And by supporting his madness, you lose the moral high ground, brother.” He shot Samuel a look of disappointment, then crossed the space between us to stand at our side.
Samuel flinched.
My fingers curled into fists, imagining the feel of his throat crushing beneath the strength of my hands. He’d kidnapped Avi. He’d held her against her will. He was forcing her into a lifetime of unhappiness.
“Hawke,” Benedict whispered.
I ripped my eyes from Samuel and saw Benedict’s attention flicker from the ground to my hands.
Blood dripped from my fists where my nails had cut through my palms.
“Do you deny my sister had an equal claim on your throne?”
Alek tensed. “I will make no such declarations.”
“Fine, then do you deny your sister entered an agreement obligating the royal family to discuss her betrothal to my nephew Samuel?”
“Possible betrothal,” I growled. My vision flickered into thermal, my predatory nature winning against my humanity for three heartbeats before my sight returned.
James rolled his eyes. “Fine. Do you deny that your sister entered an agreement obligating the royal family to discuss her possible betrothal to my nephew Samuel?”
“I do not deny it,” Alek stated.
“Then the matter is at rest for the moment. We’ll see you in six days to begin the discussions.” James turned, and I half expected the Dracula-looking motherfucker to twirl a cape as he exited, the Greenbriar warlock closely following after.
“Samuel, this isn’t you,” Dagon argued.
“If I marry Avianna, peace ensues and Saint will find peace,” Samuel countered. “Does our friendship really mean nothing to you?”
“What is friendship without loyalty?” Dagon asked.
“I will do my best to talk Saint into being reasonable, but Avianna needs to be prepared to follow through with the agreement,” Samuel warned.
“Let’s go before Hawke loses his shit,” Lachlan suggested.
“Excellent idea,” Alek agreed.
The Hunters filed out while I studied Samuel carefully, tilting my head as I took stock of every weak point on his body. I could rip out his throat with my teeth, or lacerate his wrists. I could crush his throat with my hands, strangle the air from his body. “Benedict,” I called out, my eyes locked on Samuel.
“Hawke?” He stood at my side.
“Show Samuel your forearms.”
Benedict raised his brows, but did as I asked.
“I am going to kill you, Samuel,” I whispered, but the sound filled the cavernous room. “Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or even this year. Maybe in ten years while you sleep, or in fifty, while you’re blissfully feeding from the neck of some human. You won’t know when, but you’ll know why. Me. I. Will. Fucking. Kill. You.”
No one so much as breathed as Samuel swallowed, then glanced down at Benedict’s exposed forearms. No ink appeared.
“Huh. Looks like he’s not lying,” Benedict said with a little chuckle.
Samuel left without another word, walking through the hallway that led back to witch territory.
Only Benedict, Alek, Lachlan, and I remained in the chamber.
“We need to warn the witches that one of their own has turned traitor,” Lachlan suggested.
“I’ll tell my mate,” Benedict promised. “She’ll get word to her sister.”
Jocelyn was one of the most powerful witches I’d ever met, and even more dangerous now that she was a vampire hybrid, but her sister sat on the throne for the witches.
A shape moved out of the darkness to our right and we spun, forcing Alek behind my back, Lachlan at my side.
Xavier, the demon king, stepped out of the shadows, the darkness curling along his skin, his shadow, like a lover hesitant to part ways. “Your Assassins are cute, Alek, thinking they could save you from me if I desired your expiration.” A taunting smirk lifted a corner of his mouth.