Page 122 of The Fallen Fae King

I crouch down, placing the tray as close as I dare to the bars.

Lanlin copies me, kneeling on the other side.

He frowns. “My Blood Lover hurt himself for me.”

“Daire does that a lot.”

Lanlin is shaking, but he smiles. “My Little Raven is devoted.”

“We both are.”

Lanlin’s gaze darts to mine. “I never doubted you.”

Fragile, I whisper, “Never?”

“Never, my dear.”

When Lanlin reaches through the bars to grab for the cup, panic spikes through me.

“Don’t,” I rush to say. “What is it with Daire and you burning yourself? I have a better idea.”

He pulls his arm back. “I’m already burned.”

I scan Lanlin, confused by the tiny burns that scatter his skin like dark freckles.

How the hell did he become injured like that down here in this windowless cell?

My expression hardens. “Whose ass do I need to kick?”

“My Omega, I have no doubt that Taran should fear you. He has already dug his own grave, however, and I intend to have the satisfaction of filling it in over his dead body. Or possibly, over his living, screaming one.”

I grin, viciously.

I study Lanlin’s black leather breastplate, which is emblazoned with Aurelius’ Golden Dragon emblem. It looks more like a fighter’s outfit than a prisoner’s.

What’s truly going on in this Guild?

“I can be smart too. Watch.” I click my knuckles like I’m about to show him a trick.

Then I simply tip over the cup, spilling the blood onto the floor and through the bars into the cell.

I half expect Lanlin to haughtily demand why I would expect a king to lick their food off the floor.

Aurelius would. In fact, he’d probably starve to death rather than let go of his ego.

Lanlin has been the outcast in his kingdom, however, being treated as a beast.

I imagine this isn’t a humiliation to him.

His fangs extend further than I have seen them grow before, as well as fresh fangs gnashing from his widening jaw, as he finally loses control.

A shiver of fear races down my spine.

Lanlin snarls and growls. His dark, dominant pheromones fog the shadowy dungeon in plumes of intoxicating incense.

I choke. My mind clouds.

Lanlin laps frantically at the blood.