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“If we’re truly bonded now and if you’re going to continue to shift into this form, then you need blood … don’t you?”

“Supposedly.” He sounded cranky—and that was familiar and reassuring.

I laughed. Then I took a deep breath. “We’re doing this. What’s the alternative? Me letting you die?” The very thought sent my heart rate spiking.

His jaw clenched. “I will not bite you. Not now. Not after what you just remembered.” His mouth twisted. “Not when I am one of those creatures.”

“Highblood,” I whispered. “It doesn’t have to be a curse.”

“But it is,” he snapped. “To me, to you. To bite you now would dishonor all you’ve lost.”

“Then, what do we do?”

He closed his eyes. “There is one solution. I will have to cease changing forms. To do so requires a great deal of power.”

“No. That can’t be the only way.” I shook my head stubbornly. “To be a highblood doesn’t have to mean destruction. I’ve heard …”

“What?”

I colored. “I’ve heard the bite can bring pleasure. Not only pain.”

His gaze dropped to my throat. Then jerked away again, as if the sight of my flesh there burned him. “You don’t understand what you’re asking, little one. If I started, then—”

“Then, what?”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I last tasted blood?” he growled. “No less, blood that is fresh and sweet from the throat of a willing woman who I …”

I thought I understood. “Your last rider. Was she the last one you drank from?” His head jerked affirmation. “What was her name? What happened to her?”

He was quiet for a while. Then, “Her name was Christina.”

“That’s a beautiful name.” Strangely it didn’t hurt me to speak of this woman. Nyxaris had loved her once. She had ridden on his back, sat where I now sat. But she had been dead for over one hundred years—she was a memory. One that had caused him so much pain and grief already. And based on what Nyxaris had already confided, she had died badly. “What happened to Christina?”

He went very still. For a moment, I couldn’t even feel him breathing. “Highbloods happened. I served an Avari master. When I rebelled against an order, they took Christina from me. They …” Silence again.

“They soul-bound her,” I whispered.

“Yes.”

“How?” I couldn’t help the question. After all, it could happen to me.

“It does not matter. For it will not happen to you,” Nyxaris said harshly, as if reading my thoughts. “Do you understand? I will never allow it to happen. I would rather die first.”

“Yes.” My voice was small. But I knew promises like that could not always be kept.

“No,” he thundered. “You do not.” He lifted up, his wing sliding away. I pushed myself to my feet, still shivering in my wet clothes, as he faced me. He gripped my chin—hard. “Look at me and tell me you understand.” His face suddenly softened. “What am I doing? I’m asking you to trust me. A highblood.” He shook his head. “I must be mad.”

“Not mad,” I said softly. I grasped his wrist. “I do trust you.”

“She did, too,” he said simply. “And she died.”

“I cannot imagine how much that must have hurt you.”

He gave a rough laugh. “Hurt me? She was the one who suffered. Her body claimed, used. Her soul suppressed.”

“They took her body?” It was a horrible thing—to imagine someone else in my body, controlling me.

“Yes. It could have gone the other way. Or they might have tethered her.”