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But Elarian slipped it on regardless, the first precious item she had owned—even if it was stolen from the man she intended to kill.

And now she was in a ballroom filled with vampires, once again in the arms of her sworn enemy, wondering to herself, Am I trying to get myself killed?

In the precious few moments it took for Elarian to untangle her thoughts, Lucan’s light smile returned.

“Ah—a parting gift from Anileta, no doubt.” Lucan’s thumb lingered against the gold for a moment too long. “Worry not, darling. I shall not need to call for you.” Lucan twisted the ring off Elarian’s slender finger. “My bed is large enough for you to rest comfortably when I am at court.”

Even as they resumed walking, Lucan’s chilled fingertips remained on the large finger joint connecting it to her hand. Icy currents swam through her veins, breath catching as her heart clenched.

“You will be marvelous, darling,” he murmured tenderly. “I know the master requires more than perfection, but here, you may begin to breathe again.”

Head spinning at his words, Elarian clung to Lucan as they drifted at last to the center of the ballroom. He surely could never mean such tenderness, even if he truly thought her a courtesan. No—perhaps he simply enjoyed toying with his prey. That had to be it.

Had to be.

As if reading her thoughts, Lucan’s hand at her waist dug in violently, his sharp nails scratching her even through the fine fabrics. A gasp slipped past her crimson lips; she swore she saw his eyes flicker with satisfaction.

“Yet do not mistake me, pet. You are mine and mine alone. I will chain you to my bed if I must.”

Nodding her head, Elarian merely wrapped her arms around his waist, nestling herself against his chest as if she had been molded just for him.

“My prince, I would sooner gouge out my own eyes than wish to spend a moment with another of this court.”

Elarian knew that much to be true.

Already, her eyes were tired of the extravagance around them. Annoyingly, Lucan’s simple choice of black with demure silver and blue accents eased her weary vision. She looked up at him, his pallid face filling her gaze. For the briefest moment, she saw a flicker of something akin to vulnerability in those pools of deep crimson staring back at her.

“Careful, Eliyn,” he murmured. “I might whisk you away from this place and spend eternity with only that pretty mouth of yours.”

Laughing softly, Elarian averted her gaze. “I should think Your Highness would tire of me long before eternity.”

“You must be young, my sweet-faced courtesan, to think suffering your company worse than four centuries of court politics.” His lips curved into a coy smile. “I assure you, my threshold for disappointment is remarkably high.”

Despite herself, she smiled.

Godsdamn him.

This was just a game—merely another mask he donned to hide the baseless cruelty below—but she almost found herself believing his words.

A trumpet blared to announce the Blooded Prince and his new courtesan to the dance floor. They now stood in the center of the vast room, courtiers distancing themselves from the regal couple. Lucan smiled, fangs flashing in the moonlight before spinning her into a turn.

All at once, the music swelled. Brilliant blue and muted rose flashed in Elarian’s vision as one of Lucan’s hands found the small of her back. He stepped into her, thigh pressed against hers.

She nearly stumbled; he lifted her with ease, only releasing her once she had found her footing.

Instead of remarking on it, Lucan adjusted with near imperceptible care. The next turn came slower this time. His thumb pressed gently against her hip, guiding her weight before she had even realized she’d placed it incorrectly.

Again, another turn.

Again, his gentle fingers shifted her weight as they soared across the black floor.

She had expected commands.

Move.

Turn.

Smile.