Three Kaden

“We will never tell you anything,” he said, spitting at Nismera’s feet.

Her lip turned up as she shook it off her pointed, armored boot. “That’s fine.” Her smile was cold as she lifted a hand. Power erupted from her palm and scattered across the sky. Lightning, pure and blinding, ripped back as she created and controlled the sparks of energy, shooting them toward the floor. Runes lit with her silver power, and the floor beneath our feet spun. I jolted to the side. Beside me, Isaiah did not even falter, as if this was a normal occurrence to him. The floor opened in a massive spiraling vortex, saltwater reaching toward the ceiling with a hollow roar. The rows of chained armored men glared toward it as the room stopped shaking. Nismera walked behind them, one by one, and fear coated the air.

“I know you won’t talk, and I don’t need that from you. The Eye is, and has always been, about the same dribble. Why else would they send their little pawns? I know they hide from me, too.”

“The Eye does not hide,” an older, graying soldier spat from the end of the line. “We wait for the perfect opportunity—”

Nismera barked an ugly laugh. “An opportunity. Oh, Sir Molten. I’ve been dying to have my hands on you. You’ve been nothing but a pain in my side.”

“Your day is coming.” He straightened his back. No fear rolled from him – at least, none I could smell.

“When exactly? You lot have been trying to overthrow me for how long now? I’m a bit bored, honestly.” She leaned toward the soldier nearest to her, and he shook. “But I have a hungry beastie, and what better treat to feed it than traitors? I think fear quenches its appetite the most.”

Nismera shoved the soldier into the vortex, the man’s scream cut short by a loud crunch. Chaos erupted as the others saw what had befallen their companion, and most tried to shuffle to the side to escape. One by one, Nismera’s gold and black army kicked the remaining rebels in, and one by one, their screams were the last thing we heard before they disappeared below. The last soldier, older by far with a gray beard tied at the end, didn’t even so much as blink as she came to him.

“And will you beg, Sir Molten?” She dug her nails into his armored shoulders as the material cracked against it. He did not so much as falter.

His chin held high, the age lines creasing across his face as he sneered and glared at her in his last act of defiance. “I hope their prison remains locked for eons.”

Nismera’s hand whipped out faster than light, severing his head from his body. Blood coated her front and splattered her face. She blinked rapidly, chasing away the overwhelming anger that filled her expression.

Their prison? The question rattled around in my thoughts but died as the severed head rolled toward me over the stone floor. I lifted my boot, stopping its path. Unseeing eyes stared back at me, hair clipped close to the scalp with shaved markings on the side—markings of rebels.

“Four hundred and seventy-two rebels. Four hundred and seventy-two heads.” Nismera cleaned her hand. The room stayed deathly quiet as she stepped forward.

“Take Sir Molten’s head to Severn.” She nodded toward the large male armored guard to my left. “I want to send a message to any rebels who think now is the time to attack. We have far too much to do.”

Isaiah made a noise in his throat and shuffled. Armored boots echoed in the carved stone room as the guards did as she commanded and left. Nismera kicked his remaining corpse to the beast in the water below before sealing the floor.

Isaiah whistled low. “You seem uptight, Mera. It’s been weeks. Shouldn’t you be the least bit happy? Big brother’s home and all the realms now belong to you.”

A warm smile spread across her face as she glanced behind us, making sure every guard had left as if she didn’t want them to see she did have emotions. She glared at me, her temper barely leashed. “I am happy, but The Eye seems to think now, above all else, is the time to attack.”

“Attack is overstating it,” I said, nodding toward the closed floor behind her. “An attack would imply they have a chance.”

She merely shrugged before stalking past us both, heading for the main entrance of her ostentatious, shimmering white fortress. Onuna changed my perspective on architecture. I had forgotten how massive most palaces were, and Mera loved the finer things above all. Drapes embroidered with the twisted, legless, mighty ryphors along the hem hung from the top of every entrance. The long tassels of her war banners danced across the pristine floor.

We turned and followed after Nismera. Isaiah wrapped his arm around my shoulder, squeezing once. “You’ve been so quiet since your return, brother. I thought you’d be far happier to see me.”

I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. I was happy to see him. Happy to be off of blasted Onuna, but another aching pit ate at my gut. One thing I could not, or had not, forgotten.

“You’re a monster,” she said, sneering at me and pulling at the restraints.

“I halted plans for you, searched for that damned book, hoping there was another way that I could keep you.” My hand slid across her jaw as she pulled away from me in disgust. “I love you.”

We strode down the gold and cream halls, the reflection of the ceiling splayed across the dark shiny floors, the stone unscuffed even with the guards shuffling about. Nismera climbed the massive stairwell, prattling on, but my mind wasn’t present and hadn’t been for weeks. I was thinking of her and how to bring her back, but I had a plan this time. Samkiel was dead. No one would be left in any of these realms for her, no one but me.

Guards pushed open the large doors, and the chattering inside the room died, the massive stone war room quieting. The Order surrounded the rectangular raised table, maps and scrolls scattered over the top, with small totem-shaped beings in between. Nismera’s guards followed inside, taking their place in the four corners as she headed toward the back of the room. The war drapes were yanked open with one flick of her hand.

Sunlight flooded the room, giving the impression of warmth and peace, when I knew damned well the goddess that controlled this realm could wipe us all away with a flick of her brow if she so deemed necessary. Unir and Samkiel were nothing but dust, and neither Isaiah nor I could match her power. No living being could.

“Good dawn.” Nismera tipped her head as a guard pulled out her seat for her. With a toss of her sash on her shoulder, she sat. Once she was seated, Isaiah and I took ours, one on her left, the other on her right, and the room soon followed.

“Good dawn,” the others repeated as she clapped her hands on the table.

“These are barely a fraction of the relics and scrolls we took from the remains of Rashearim,” Jiraiya said.

Jiraiya was the councilman who, like the others, tricked Samkiel into thinking they worked for him, but Nismera had ruled The Order since The Gods War. She had put her people in place, securing their seats one by one without being caught until only her sept held power. She was a master strategist who had taught me well.

Jiraiya shifted the records toward her, and she glanced them over. Sweat built at his brow, and I could smell fear on every being around the table. Smart of them.

“Why does he keep glancing at the blonde one?” Isaiah asked, nodding toward Jiraiya.

My eyes followed, and I watched. He did glance toward Imogen even as he spoke to Nismera.

I shrugged. “I believe they fucked when she had her mind.”

Isaiah made a noise of disgust.

Imogen was the only member of The Hand left here. Nismera had the others shipped off and sold to the highest bidder for battles or gods-knew-what. Imogen stood stiffly near one of the orc generals, staring straight ahead. Nivene was his name. Isaiah had said he was one of Nismera’s new favorites, but I couldn’t care less. Even with half the table between us, his scent confirmed he was just another brute who had worked and slain his way to the top.

Imogen stared off into space, her dull blue eyes not moving even when the council members raised their voices. She wore the same dragonbane armor as all of Nismera’s higher-ranking soldiers did. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her posture straight, and her long twisted braid draped over her shoulder.

I didn’t need to see Imogen’s fingers to know they were bare. Nismera had those silver rings melted down the second she had a chance. She hated the color and what it reminded us all of. Instead, she now bore two forsaken swords strapped to her back. I was surprised she had let her keep even that, but I knew my words had imprisoned her brain. She was no longer capable of independent thought or free will.

Nismera stood and moved around the table to lean over a scroll, the general at her side explaining what they had learned and brought back from Onuna.

“He’s so puny.” Isaiah sighed next to me. “It couldn’t have been pleasurable.”

I glanced at Isaiah. He studied Jiraiya with a predator’s intent before glancing at Imogen again.

“Why do you care?”

“Call it curiosity.” He shrugged.

I rolled my shoulders and leaned forward, clasping my hands on the tabletop. “Your curiosity will enrage Veruka.”

“Ah, so Mera told you about that.” Isaiah merely shrugged. “She’s just fun. Plus, the things she does when you pull her tail are very satisfying.”

My gaze bored daggers into him. “She’s one of the High Guards. I told you not to shit where you eat.”

“Says the one who turned and fucked Samkiel’s mate.”

My nostrils flared, which only garnered a grin from him. If I could punch him without pissing off Nismera, I would.

Elianna stood and glanced down the table at us before clearing her throat and opening the worn journal she had carried for ages. All eyes turned toward her, everyone listening intently.

“Speaking of blonde ones, where is your celestial?” Isaiah asked, not giving a shit what Elianna had to say.

“Cameron is in the low levels still.” I folded my arms as I leaned back, at least attempting to pay attention.

“The pit fights?” Isaiah asked.

I nodded. “He needs to work out his new powers, and he’s not fucking them out so that leaves fighting and feeding.”

Isaiah scoffed. “Thrash.”

We called it thrash because, at some stages, all you did was thrash from side to side as your body overheated. Those able to be turned to Ig’Morruthens experienced it. Dianna had. The first few weeks, I had her chained as I had Cameron when he arrived. The first blood rage was always the strongest as their bodies carved out their insides, making room for the new ones. Power surged through them, replacing what they once were. If they survived and didn’t turn into a beast, they were as we were. But the thrash could take weeks to resolve, sometimes months. The blood lust makes them damn near animalistic. They could level a village if left unattended. Uncontrollable urges were so strong they could rip their victims to ribbons. I had seen Dianna leave nothing but shards of tissue in her wake when she first changed, another reason among many for her bloodthirsty name.

“Nismera will want you to make more, you know?”

I glanced toward Isaiah. “It’s not that easy.”

“Good luck telling her that.”

“Cameron is the only other one I made like her in a thousand years. I’ve tried. I just end up with beasts.”

Isaiah nodded and opened his mouth to respond but was cut off before he could say anything.

“Something you two wish to share?” Nismera asked.

We turned toward her and shook our heads. Isaiah extended a hand and gestured, urging her to go on.

“Good,” Nismera said. “Then, if you two don’t mind, please pay attention.”

Her smile was anything but sweet or kind. It never was. Sometimes, I wondered exactly what Unir made her from. I always assumed a cold, dying star. That’s what she felt like, even with every soft word or mild joke. She was empty. The only emotion she displayed that was not manufactured for effect was rage, and it swirled ceaselessly behind her eyes.

Nismera folded her arms, turning back to Elianna. “Why has the incentive increased?”

Elianna pushed a map near Nismera and leaned over the table, pointing to a region past the stars. “It would appear, Your Highness, The Eye seems more determined since the slaughter in the East.”

All eyes turned toward me.

I held a hand up. “I haven’t been to the East.”

“No,” Nismera said calmly, the word dripping with hatred. “I have reports of an assault on some legion officials making their rounds in the far eastern tip of Tarr. I sent soldiers to see what they could find, and they did not return. But you know who was spotted? Eyewitnesses said a large, dark, scaled Ig’Morruthen flew across the sky before landing. She then proceeded to dismember my loyal soldiers and spread their remains across the field in a warning.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, along with the hint of amusement and the tiny flame of pride at just what she could still accomplish.

Nismera clasped her hands, cocking her head toward Elianna. “What was spelled for me once more?”

Elianna looked as if she wished to be anywhere but here as she folded her hands. “Umm, come get me,” Elianna cleared her throat, looking around the room, “bitch.”

She looked at Nismera, afraid she was about to be reduced to ashes as if she called her that herself. No one spoke in the room, and all eyes were on me. However, I did catch Isaiah’s look of utter shock. No one spoke to Nismera that way or ever had and lived long.

“If that is true,” I said. “I can handle her.”

“Handle.” Nismera smiled, tapping her fingers against the table. No one moved or even breathed. “Samkiel’s mate still lives. Even if he does not, she will wage war in his name.” She paused, the line in her jaw clenching. “Do you know what happens to the psyche of an amata when the other is slain? No, you don’t, because you don’t have one.”

My fists clenched on my thighs, my foot tapping. It was a jab and a dirty one to throw at me. Yet I knew how Mera spoke in her chamber meetings. I knew she had to show she did not pick favorites, even if it was her own blood. To them and everyone else, I was merely a High Guard who disobeyed orders.

“One can go insane with grief to the point of not existing, or they can rage and burn worlds, and it seems she has chosen the latter.” Nismera prattled on. “This is why I wanted her dead the second he was, or better yet, dead long before. Do you see the problem, Kaden? Your wishes to keep her will likely result in an uprising.”

No other general or commander turned toward me, but I felt the room shift. The discomfort was apparent in the sound of shuffling feet and the clench of scaled hands. Those with tentacles wrapped them around their bodies protectively.

“You told me to mold her, make her over, and I did. Now, it is an issue. You wanted a killer. I created one.”

“They are calling her winged death. You know how names spread. They build, fuel, and feed into imaginations. I do not want The Eye thinking they have any leeway over me or my kingdom.”

“I have a plan for that.” My voice echoed into the silence, and every eye was on me.

“Care to enlighten the rest of us?” It was a member of The Order that made the challenge. I recognized him, but his name, like most of these people, I didn’t fucking care to remember.

“No.” I smiled widely at him, making sure the tips of my fangs showed. “That is information meant for only the highest ranking to hear. You and The Order do not make the cut, to say the least.”

The room filled with tension.

Nismera sighed and shook her head. “Our main concern is capturing Harwork Bay at the moment. The remaining threats will be dealt with by the higher-ranking officials, as my brother has so politely said.”

No one questioned Nismera. They never did because to do so was to risk their lives. The room turned back toward her and continued talks of siege and war.

AS SOON AS EVERY COMMANDER, GENERAL, AND THE LAST MEMBER OF The Order filed out, Nismera turned to us. Her guards remained outside. She removed her cloak with one hand and hung it over her chair before striding toward an alcove. She returned, carrying two bottles and a few glasses, falling into a seat with a huff.

“I wish you would not argue against me in meetings, Kaden. They are not used to my voice being spoken over, and you’re not a flunky that I would need or would ever wish to correct.”

She poured the sparkling yellow liquid into her glass before sliding the other bottle and glasses toward Isaiah and me. Isaiah caught them and popped the top off the bottle with a single hand. The sweet, coppery smell of blood filled the air, and I dared not ask where she got this. Isaiah poured himself a glass before sliding it to me.

“My apologies, king.” The last word I enunciated with a smirk. “Why do you insist on that title?”

“Because it was one all aspired to have. Why change it now?” Nismera shrugged. “Besides, I love watching the lords curl their lips when they hear it. Since I have a pussy, they prefer queen, but we all know in our world the title of king holds more power.”

“That it does.” I snorted.

Nismera smiled behind her glass. “Also, you don’t have to call me that here. There are no soldiers or guards or fucking council members asking for help. I am not our father. I will not demand respect or for you to use my title every hour of the godsdamn day. Besides, I have missed you.”

Isaiah cleared his throat, and Nismera rolled her eyes.

“We,” she enunciated, “have missed you.”

“I technically missed you more,” Isaiah added, cutting a glance toward Nismera. “She’s been quite busy, and I’ve asked every day since that damn portal sealed when you were coming back. I even have the place marked where it closed because it was the last place I saw you.”

Something inside my chest flickered. It was as if a small light was switched on in a dark, dusty room. It was so strange to hear that someone missed me. Especially after how long I’d been gone and remembering those I surrounded myself with. The last form of affection I’d received had been years and years ago with Dianna. Emotions now felt weird, to say the least. They made me uncomfortable because they never felt real. All acts of caring or kindness could be yanked away, evaporating like mist on the wind. I was locked in Yejedin for so long that perhaps the part of me that believed in such things had died and rotted there.

“You sentimental fool.” I sneered at him, and Nismera laughed.

But I did picture it. Isaiah had grown a reputation of blood and gore long before the realms had ever closed, and Nismera had told me he had only gotten worse after I left. He used that damn power of his whenever he could, bending blood by pure will, honing it to perfection. Nismera told me how he didn’t even have to touch anyone anymore to make their blood boil or, worse, rupture. He was a beast in every form of the word, just as I, another reason we had been locked away so godsdamn long.

She said they called him Blood Scorn, and he liked it. Personally, I thought he liked it because it proved we were stronger now. We were no longer those scrawny teens with unkempt powers who so easily believed all of Unir’s lies. How innocent we were so long ago, yet it seemed like a flash of memory. We had grown up in the silver palaces, amongst the beauty and florals, but Yejedin, with its smoke and flame, shaped us.

So I didn’t blame him for latching on to that name or me. I had protected him then and promised to protect him always, so I laughed at the image that coursed through my brain of the large, muscled High Guard of Death covered in blood and armor waiting at the edge of a portal that never opened again. Sentimental fool, indeed.

“Call me whatever you wish. I’m just glad you’re back, and now you can have all the blood and pussy you want.”

I choked on my drink as Nismera sighed, placing her armored boots on the table. “Speaking of that, tell me your plan, Kaden. Why would I need another Ig’Morruthen when you so kindly brought me the blonde one?”

I glared at Isaiah, wiping the edge of my mouth before turning back toward Nismera. “Dianna’s power is unmatched. She would be a great asset.”

“To me,” she swirled her drink in the glass, “or you?”

I did not try to hide my feelings. It seemed that had only made everything in my life so much worse, so I only nodded. “I spoke to you daily. You knew my feelings, and they have not changed.”

“Ah yes, but hers definitely have. Now, I have rebels crawling around, believing they can’t be touched. Hope that she’s given them.”

I tapped my finger against my glass. Isaiah said nothing, watching us both. “Another reason she can be here, a prime example to take that hope away. Show that you can tame the most untamable. It would give you even more power. Who would ever even think of questioning you then?”

The corner of Nismera’s lip twisted. “And how do you expect her to stay here under our rule? We slaughtered her sister. We slaughtered her mate. Do you not think it’s time to give up on this useless dream?”

“I have a blade,” I said, and Isaiah sat up straighter. “It has runes engraved on the sides. Think the words of Ezalan, but more. I could erase all her memories and replace them. She would want only to serve you, I swear it. Dianna is a weapon I crafted, and a damn good one. She slaughtered Tobias and Alistair with ease. We need her.”

I need her, but I did not say that aloud.

Nismera glared at me. “I wanted her away from her mate. You failed that, and yet you think you can accomplish this?”

My skin crawled, unbridled power arcing beneath it in defense of her words. But this was Nismera. The only one who gave a shit about us, so I willed it down. I had not realized how the darkness in the room crept forward until I calmed down, and it receded.

I took a calming breath before saying, “Unir trapped them in the same realm, not me. I kept them apart for a thousand years.”

His name was ice in my veins, and the room grew heavy. Nismera simply went on, “And now his death has sent her on a course that will only get in the way of our liberation.”

“I did everything you said to make them hate each other. Everything. I ripped the false sister from her exactly as you wished. This is as much of your problem as it is mine.”

“Except I do not love her.”

That made my pulse quicken, and I knew they heard it. Nismera’s eyes narrowed into slits, but I could not lie to her or myself. Not anymore. I glanced at my glass, the red liquid darker than the blood on Onuna. “I cannot help the way I feel.”

“You know, I have skinned traitors and hung their flesh on poles to wave in the wind for less. Shall I do that to you, brother? I think our deal of you keeping her as a pet has ended after the display on the remains of Rashearim, don’t you? I am down a general and now a handful of soldiers. There must be repercussions.” A sly, slick smile formed on her face.

“Are you to make an example of me, then?”

She tapped her sharpened nails against the table. “No, but your beasts will be slaughtered in the great hall. I’ll hold an impromptu meeting, and while that occurs, you’ll sit in the dungeons for a moon’s turn.”

My gaze locked on hers. No hint of a smile or joke flowed from her lips, and her shoulders locked as if she meant every word.

“Don’t look at me like that. You must be made an example of, my brother or not. My soldier, my legion, will think I show mercy if I don’t exact even the smallest punishment for your betrayal. You understand, yes?”

My throat tightened, but I wouldn’t show her my fear. I learned eons ago how to mask it, hiding all my emotions. Above all, I couldn’t let Isaiah know. But to be locked beneath the palace, I didn’t know how far it was, how deep . . . how dark.

“Of course,” I said, hoping my voice did not crack or shake.

Nismera tipped her drink back once more before placing it on the table, the clink ringing through my head as my anxiety grew.

“It’s merely a week in the holding cell. You’ve succumbed to darkness far longer than that.”

It felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room, and my heart thudded. I had, and I hated every part of it. Most assumed I loved it as it was part of me, but it was the one thing I was truly afraid of. I had grown up with so much light, Unir and Zaysn the epitome of it. Then he shoved us into Yejedin, and the light went out, where only darkness, the scratch of nails along stone, and flames, hot smoldering flames, existed. How ironic was I? The boy who was so afraid of monsters in the dark that I became the very thing I feared.

“Of course,” I said again with a cold smile before raising my own glass to my lips. The blood did nothing to settle my stomach. A week. I could do a week . . . unless she forgot about me and left me there to rot like he had.

“I told her a week was enough.” Isaiah’s voice cut through my thoughts. “She assumed the others would push for a harsher sentence, like a month, but it seemed far too cruel for someone who killed the World Ender.”

Right. Isaiah wouldn’t forget. I had my brother. He was here. I blew out a breath, squaring my shoulders. “I said okay.” The words came out as cold and miserable as I felt.

“Don’t be upset,” Nismera said. “Isaiah was right, and I did miss you, and I need you for what’s coming. I want you to have somewhat of a normal existence now that you’re back with us, and if this allows it, so be it.”

Isaiah relaxed at her answer, and I caught his smile.

“Thanks.” It was small, but all I could manage to say. Maybe I had been away from them both too long, but even the beast beneath my skin refused to settle.

“Do you have it?” Nismera nodded as she poured another glass. “The blade?”

I forced the Ig’Morruthen beneath my skin to calm as I raised my hand. With a flick of power, the blade formed from the darkness, appearing on my palm. I held it at the hilt, the lightning flashing through the table, reflecting in the sharp steel curve.

“I made Azrael make it before his untimely demise. I had planned to use it after we killed Samkiel, but Dianna broke free, leaving with Samkiel’s body,” I said.

Nismera’s lips tightened. “I had soldiers return for Azrael. All that was left of the area was crumbled stone and singed walls. Even his book was gone. I assume she finished him off in her rage when she broke free.”

I nodded. I had assumed the same, given the order I forced upon him.

Nismera sighed, unimpressed with the outcome, but leaned forward to study the blade. “And this would work? Make her ours, as you say?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes cut to mine. “And that’s all you want with your return? Her? Not more power?”

“You say that as if you doubt me.”

Nismera didn’t even blink. “Call it old trauma, but yes. The Eye has grown restless, and no matter how many I kill or burn, no matter how many places I siege, they continue to grow. Betrayal has become the norm.”

“You have nothing to worry about from me. You know that. The throne is yours, Mera. I have no use for it. I never have. Grant me just this.”

Her silence was deafening as she watched me, and I knew she was weighing her options. I just hoped they leaned in my favor. The corner of her lips finally tipped up. “The mate of our fallen brother and another weapon in this ghastly rebellion. I suppose it would help. The rebels would lose what little hope they have if we claim someone who has so publicly fought back. Fine. Fetch your toy, then. You explain to the two remaining Kings of Yejedin why you brought their fallen executioner here.”

Isaiah chuckled and kicked his feet up. “Speaking of which? Where are those two?”

Nismera shrugged her shoulders, her eyes still on the blade. “Busy. I have them taking care of something.” And that was that. We continued to talk, but not of war or plans of siege, just a recollection of our time apart. Laughter filled the battle room until Nismera yawned and excused herself.

Isaiah whistled low through his teeth as he leaned back, his boots resting on the table. “I have to say I’ve never seen you this enamored with another.”

I said nothing as I reached into my pocket and took out the bloodstained coin. I flipped it between my fingers. A thousand years I had with Dianna, and that damned part of me that still hoped and cared wished I had more. I thought I would have forever.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” I whispered to Isaiah. “They weren’t supposed to find one another.”

“How did they? Mera never really said. She just threw a table through a stone wall and squished a few guards to death when you told her. I didn’t press any further after that.”

My lips pressed into a thin line, and I met his eyes. “Truthfully, fate, probably. The plan was for Samkiel to come back after the weapon was made. Dianna would help me kill him before she ever felt the bond and knew what he was to her, but I was wrong. Maybe she was seeking that connection on some level. She killed Zekiel, which brought Samkiel back. They hated each other, and by the time I realized they had teamed up and were looking for that book, it was too late. They have been inseparable since.”

Isaiah glanced at the coin in my hand before meeting my eyes. “What’s it like? To love?”

I swallowed and clenched the coin in my hand. Isaiah always asked me for guidance as if I were the oldest and he was the youngest. We were all we had. We spent eons trapped in Yejedin, locked away by the one person who was supposed to love us no matter what. Love to us was deadly, powerful, and, above all, something we would rip to pieces to keep.

“Being around Dianna was the first time I truly felt anything besides anger or hate or bloodlust. For us?” My eyes held his. “Love is a terrible, cruel thing.”

Isaiah finished his glass in one long gulp before placing it on the table. “Very well then. How exactly will we find her?”

“I have an idea.”