Chapter 5

Heat rolled off him. His breath brushed my cheek, carrying smoke, iron, and that wild scent I still refused to name.

“Say it again,” he said.

I twisted against his grip. “Get. Your. Hand. Off.”

His fingers tightened. Not enough to break bone.

Enough to remind me he could.

“You walked into my den carrying a letter that could get me killed.” His gaze dropped to the torn strip tucked beneath my belt. “Then you tried to put a knife in my ribs.”

“It was a small knife.”

“You missed.”

“You moved.”

For half a second, his mouth almost curved.

Then the cold came back.

“Cute.”

“I’m not trying to be cute.”

“No. You’re trying to survive.”

The words hit harder than the wall.

I yanked my wrist again. “If you know what the letter says, why haven’t you taken it?”

“Because you’re hiding the real piece.”

My pulse jumped.

I kept my face still.

Cain watched the lie form anyway.

“There,” he murmured. “That little pause. You lie badly when you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“Your heart says otherwise.”

“Maybe it’s scared of your breath.”

His gaze sharpened.

I used the moment.

My free hand snapped up. The edge of my palm caught his jaw. His head turned with the strike, and I drove my knee toward his thigh.

He moved before I could tear my wrist free.

I got one step.

Cain caught the back of my coat and hauled me off the ground.

My boots scraped over stone. He spun me around and pinned both my wrists against the wall. His chest pressed against mine, solid and impossible to move.

“Try that again,” he whispered.

“Let go.”

“Give me the letter.”

“Come take it.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth.

The pause lasted one breath.

Maybe less.

Then he leaned closer without touching me. His heat soaked through my coat. My skin tightened anyway.

“You keep daring me like you don’t understand what happens when I stop being patient.”

“You’ve never been patient.”

“No.” His voice dropped. “I’ve been restrained.”

That should’ve made me laugh.

Instead, my throat went dry.

Cain’s thumb moved over the inside of my wrist, right across the faint red mark his blood had left there days ago.

The mark pulsed under his touch.

I hated that he noticed.

I hated more that he felt it.

His nostrils flared. “You know what your blood does to me now.”

“Burns?”

“Calls.”

My stomach pulled tight.

He lowered his head until his mouth was near my ear. “It calls something that’s been asleep for a very long time.”

I turned my face toward him. “Then put it back to sleep.”

“You think I haven’t tried?”

His voice had gone rough.

Not angry.

Worse.

Hungry.

I shoved my shoulder into him. “You’re the one who dragged me into this den.”

“You woke me.”

“I was dumped here.”

“You still broke the seal.”

“I didn’t know what it was.”

“You knew enough to bleed on it.”

“I was trying not to die.”

“And now?”

His grip shifted. One hand closed around both my wrists. The other settled at my waist and held me still.

“Now,” he said, “you’re trying to bargain.”

I forced myself to meet his eyes. “Yes.”

“Good.” His fingers tightened at my side. “We can stop pretending you have another option.”

I smiled, even with his hand locked around me. “You need me.”

Cain’s expression didn’t change.

That was the problem. He was too calm. Too controlled for a creature people had called a king before they buried his name.

But his fingers pressed harder into my waist.

I felt it.

“You need my blood,” I said. “Deny it all you want. The seal reacted to me. The mark reacted to me. You reacted to me.”

“Choose your next words carefully.”

“Why? Will you kill me?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so fast I almost believed it.

Then his gaze slid to the letter again.

I saw the opening.

“You can’t,” I said. “Not while I’m holding the only proof that your exile wasn’t what everyone thinks.”

Something hard moved behind his eyes.

There it was.

The first crack.

I pushed. “The letter mentions the old king. It mentions the night you were cast out. Burn it, and you lose the truth.”

“I can read ash.”

“Can you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you still talking?”

His face went still.

Too still.

I’d guessed wrong.

Or not wrong enough.

Cain leaned in until our foreheads nearly touched. “Because I want to hear how far you’ll go before you beg.”

“I don’t beg.”

“Everyone begs.”

“Maybe weak people do.”

His hand left my waist.

For one stupid second, I thought he was backing away.

Instead, he caught my chin and forced my face up.

“Call me weak again.”

“Gladly.”

His thumb pressed against my lower lip. Warm. Careful.

That made it worse.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

“Because you’re boring me.”

“Liar.”

“Monster.”

“Little thief.”

“Banished animal.”

Gold flashed in his eyes.

The stone beneath my shoulders cracked.

I stopped breathing.

Cain’s voice dropped to almost nothing. “Keep pushing, Ivy.”

The way he said my name made it sound stolen.

“Why?”

“Because one day you’ll push too far.”

“And then?”

“Then death will be the only way out.”

His mouth stopped beside my ear. His breath slid warm across my skin.

“Not yours,” he whispered. “Mine.”

The words should’ve frightened me.

They did.

But underneath the fear came something worse—the sharp relief of being wanted by someone who’d never wanted anything gently.

My family had looked at me and seen a debt. A failed heir. A body they could leave in the woods.

Cain looked at me like I was a threat he couldn’t ignore.

It was twisted.

It was the first time anyone had made me feel impossible to discard.

I hated him for giving me that.

So I drove my forehead into his.

Cain grunted and released my chin. I tore one hand free, grabbed the letter, and shoved it between us.

“Here,” I said. “You want it so badly?”

His eyes dropped to the paper.

I let him see the burned edge. The blood-red mark across the center. The words I’d already memorized.

Then I struck a spark from the flint hidden in my sleeve.

The letter caught fire.

Cain moved faster than I could track.

His palm closed over mine. Heat flashed through my fingers, and the flame died between our hands.

“You don’t get to threaten me with fire,” he said.

“I just did.”

“You threatened paper.”

“I threatened the information on it.”

“You have no idea what it says.”

“I know enough.”

“No. You know what someone wanted you to know.”

His grip tightened until the paper crumpled between our palms.

I stared at him. “Then tell me the rest.”

“Make me.”

“I’m trying.”

“Badly.”

I stomped on his foot.

Cain didn’t even blink.

“Really?” he asked.

“Worth a shot.”

His hand slid down from mine and caught my wrist again. He turned me and shoved me face-first against the wall, locking my arm behind my back.

Pain shot through my shoulder.

“Cain.”

“Say you’ll stop.”

“Go to hell.”

He raised my arm another inch.

My breath broke. “Fine. Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Being a controlling bastard.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“Stop trying to break my arm!”

He eased the pressure, but he didn’t let go.

His chest pressed between my shoulder blades. I felt every breath he took through the thin fabric of my coat.

“You wanted a bargain,” he said. “Here it is.”

“Your idea of a bargain needs work.”

“You give me the letter.”

“No.”

“You stay beside me until we reach the old ruins.”

I turned my head as far as his grip allowed. “Why?”

“The hunters are moving.”

“What hunters?”

“The ones your family sent after you.”

My blood went cold.

Cain released my arm long enough to grab the back of my coat and turn me around. His eyes locked onto mine.

“You knew?” I asked.

“I smelled them before you woke me.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“You would’ve run.”

“I should’ve run.”

“You would’ve died.”

“That’s my choice.”

“No.”

The word hit hard.

Cain pushed me back until my shoulders struck stone again. He took the letter from my hand, folded it once, and tucked it into the inner seam of his coat.

I reached for it.

He caught my fingers before they touched him.

“Touch me again,” he said, “and I’ll bind your hands.”

“With what?”

His gaze dropped to my wrists. “You’ll find out.”

“You really enjoy threats.”

“I enjoy results.”

“And what result do you want?”

His thumb brushed the red mark on my wrist.

“You beside me.”

“Not happening.”

“Then you stay behind me.”

“I’m not hiding behind you.”

“You’re not strong enough to stand in front of me.”

I laughed once. “There’s the honest answer.”

“You want honesty?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

Cain bent close. His mouth stopped just short of my cheek. His breath was warm now, uneven enough for me to notice.

“You’re carrying the only thing that can open the ruins,” he said. “Your blood is the key. Your family knows it. The hunters know it. And if they catch you, they won’t kill you first.”

My fingers curled against the wall. “What will they do?”

“They’ll bleed you into the altar.”

I stared at him. “Why?”

“That’s the question you should’ve asked before you lit the seal.”

“Don’t play games with me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then tell me what the altar does.”

Cain’s jaw tightened. “It gives people what they ask for.”

“That sounds convenient.”

“It takes payment.”

“My blood.”

“Among other things.”

I studied his face. “You’ve been there.”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

He looked away.

Only for a second.

I caught it.

“You lost something.”

Cain’s gaze snapped back. “Careful.”

“Someone?”

His hand closed around the back of my neck. Not choking. Holding. His thumb settled beneath my jaw, right over the pulse that had gone wild.

“Say another word about what I lost,” he said, “and I’ll make you forget your own name.”

“Can you do that?”

“No.”

The answer surprised me.

His eyes darkened. “But I can make you wish I could.”

A horn sounded in the distance.

One long note.

Cain froze.

The grip at my neck vanished. He turned toward the narrow passage behind us.

I heard nothing but my own breathing.

Then another horn answered.

Closer.

I lowered my voice. “How many?”

“Enough.”

“Hunters?”

“Yes.”

“How did they find us?”

Cain looked at me.

That answer came too quickly.

My stomach dropped. “They followed you.”

His silence told me I was right.

“You said they were after me.”

“They were.”

“You brought them here.”

“I brought you here.”

“You used me as bait.”

His expression hardened. “I used the trail they were already following.”

“You let them track us.”

“I needed to know who they served.”

“You could’ve warned me.”

“You would’ve ruined the trap.”

I shoved him in the chest.

This time, he let me move him half a step.

“You don’t get to make me part of your trap!”

His hand caught my waist before I could turn away. “You became part of it when you broke my seal.”

“Then break the bond.”

“I can’t.”

The words came out low.

Real.

For the first time, Cain looked less like the monster in the stories and more like someone caught in a cage he couldn’t see.

I softened before I could stop myself.

He noticed.

“Don’t,” he said.

“Don’t what?”

“Look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you think I can be saved.”

“I don’t.”

“Good.”

His hand stayed at my waist. Mine rested against his chest, separated by fabric and a heartbeat pounding too hard beneath it.

The third horn sounded.

This one came from the left passage.

Cain’s head snapped toward it.

“They split up,” I whispered.

“They’re inside the ravine.”

“And we’re trapped.”

“No.”

He pulled me toward the deeper tunnel.

I dug my heels into the dirt. “Where are you taking me?”

“The ruins.”

“You said the altar will bleed me.”

“It will.”

“Then absolutely not.”

Cain stopped.

His hand tightened around mine as he looked back at me. “Stay here, and the hunters take you.”

“And go with you, and your altar takes me.”

“You’re forgetting the third option.”

I yanked against his grip. “What third option?”

Cain’s eyes dropped to the red mark on my wrist.

Then he reached for the knife at his belt and drew the blade across his palm—