Page 2 of Henrikk’s Secret

Asher looked at him in confusion. “There is no food. And no wait staff?”

“There is no food,” Henrikk repeated mockingly. “I don’t recall you being a fussy eater, general. This is practically a royal feast.”

“I don’t understand.”

Henrikk lifted a hand to play with his collar, grazing the column of his neck suggestively. “Don’t you?” His tone was teasing, but as they stared at each other, a frostiness crept into the air between them. “Once you win the game, you may feed on me.” He leant back in his chair, choosing a relaxed pose to try and mask his growing nerves. “We are locked in here. You will kill me and feed, or you will not eat at all.”

“And you will starve alongside me?”

“Something of that nature.”

Asher did not seem to think much of that option. Neither did Henrikk. They both seemed to sense that if it came down to the two of them, Henrikk would be the one to win in a fight. Not because he was stronger, but because unlike Asher, he valued self-preservation over honour, and would not hesitate to use dirty tactics.

Henrikk’s fangs ached at the thought of spending days in this room with Asher, growing thirstier with each passing hour. Who would lose self-control and bite the other first?

Fuck. He wanted to taste Asher’s blood, its richness soaking into his tongue. Wanted to feel its strength rushing through his veins, the pulse of it engorging his cock.

“I still don’t understand,” Asher said. “If you want to die so badly, why don’t you just off yourself?”

Henrikk gave him a pointed look. “Suicide? Oh, no. There’s a part of me that simply cannot allow that to happen.”

Asher rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Throughout all of this, I sincerely hoped you were joking. That there was a twist of some kind.” He paused. “Why do you want to die so badly?”

I don’t.

Henrikk spread his arms in a grand gesture. “The world would be a better place without me in it.”

Asher remained sceptical. “You keep insisting that I kill you, but there are guards in the halls. Ready to haul me away to the dungeons?”

“On the contrary, the guards have been dismissed. No one will stop you when you leave.”

“But I’ll be forever on the run, hunted for regicide.”

“A final fall from grace for you to join the rest of us,” Henrikk said with a cruel smile. “But we both know that is not the reason why you have stayed by my side all this time.”

Asher hesitated, then looked him square in the eye and said, “Because I love you.”

Henrikk’s teeth clamped together painfully, his tower of cards swaying dangerously.

“And it seems I’m the only one with enough courage to admit that,” Asher added.

Henrikk had to force himself to relax his jaw muscles. “Have you not learnt yet?” Have I not hurt you enough? “You are staring at evil, Asher. A man as good as you should recognise that and not look for himself reflected in a monster. You will find no redeeming qualities here.”

“I do not wish to contradict my King—”

“And yet, you do,” Henrikk interrupted sharply. “Enough. I have given you plenty of chances. If you fail, I will tear you open, feed from you, and never think of you again as I find someone competent who is able to finish the job.” His heart seized at his own words, and at the sight of Asher growing pale, but he sucked in air and continued, “The alternative choice is the one I recommend: Kill me, and the doors will open.”

“Magically?”

No, you fool. Knock and a servant will open it. But he stayed silent, enjoying the air of mystery.

“And if I refuse to kill you?” Asher’s quiet words travelled across the table’s expanse.

“Why must you make everything so difficult?” Henrikk retorted.

“I think it might have something to do with the weeks of imprisonment.”

“You were treated well enough.”