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Only in dire circumstances would royal blood be required. My brothers’ blood might suffice, but we couldn’t risk it. My blood offered the greatest chance of success, though still short of pure antivenom.

“You drink until I feel it leave you,” I said, crossing my arms.

“What does that mean?”

Cyn stormed out; Ash and Zeke avoided her gaze.

“What?” Her chest rose and fell faster, prey instincts kicking in. “What does that mean?”

“I can taste when your blood is clean.”

I tried to keep my face impassive, a skill I spent a lifetime perfecting to avoid Father’s wrath. We needed to purge the venom before it did irreversible damage. Scaring her proved counterintuitive. She needed to know the requirements without our dancing around the issue.

“Taste,” she deadpanned. “You’re saying you have to, what? Prick my finger and taste it while I drink your blood?”

“While I might detect the venom in such a minuscule amount, it isn’t practical. Nor is a cut on your hand.”

Ash took her hand in his. “He needs fresh blood flow from the vein.”

“What the hell? You’re gonna suck the venom out? Then it’ll hurt you.” She shook her head, then scoffed. “This isn’t a snake bite. It’s not a bite at all.”

I refrained from telling her she shouldn’t suck venom from a snake bite if she wanted to keep her limb, ignoring the strange sensation that passed through me at her concern.

“He can’t do that,” Zeke said. “His blood will clean yours, and he’ll be able to taste when it happens.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The magic in my blood entering your body will seek every trace of gonthek venom and destroy it. I won’t ingest the venom.”

My brothers, like many others, thought it was simply a matter of blood flow, but the Kilnejar bloodline’s secret was a mutual exchange. My great grandfather discovered our ability to eradicate foreign blights through shared lifeblood.

That same exchange allowed a Kilnejar’s Nyrith to heal their minor ailments, keeping our bloodline strong for those who’d found their mate.

“No. Absolutely not.” She narrowed her eyes, swiping the wet strands of hair plastered to her forehead from her face. “You might look like a vampire, but I am not letting you feed on me like one.”

Zeke snorted. “Vampire?”

“What? You don’t see it?” She waved a trembling hand.

I knew it wouldn’t be long before the delirium set in—her shirt was already damp from sweat.

“Look at him!” She gasped for air with the effort of the declaration.

Zeke stared at me, angling his head.

I glanced at him, shaking my head. “This is ridiculous.”

Ash chuckled. “What about him makes you think, ‘vampire’?”

“He’s pale, tall, with jet black hair, a lean waist, eyes that…” She shivered. “Look at him!” Her breathing steadied with the second declaration, but I knew she wasn’t well. “He’s even dressed like a modern-day vampire that runs a nightclub or something.”

I wondered what she’d left unsaid about my eyes.

Zeke fell back onto the pillow, laughing. “Nightclub owner?” He looked at me. “Yeah, kind of.”

I ground my teeth together. Excuse me for having a sense of decent fashion.

“It’s more than that, though,” she murmured, plucking the hem of her baggy shirt. “He acts like a vampire.”