Chapter 37 · The Forbidden Crown

"Get your hands off me!"

I screamed it, but the wind just swallowed the sound.

Cain didn't flinch. He had me pinned against the cold marble of the inner sanctum, his chest heaving against mine. His grip on my wrists was iron—not bruising, but a promise: I wasn't going anywhere.

"Look at me, Ivy," he rasped. His voice sounded like it had been dragged through gravel. "Look at me and tell me you don't feel it."

I wrenched my arm, breath coming in jagged hitches. "Feel what? That you're losing your mind? That some masked freak just slaughtered your guards and told me my mother is alive?"

Cain leaned in. The heat radiating off him was oppressive, a fever that erased the air between us. His eyes weren't gold anymore. They were bleeding into a violent, dark crimson. The madness was clawing up his throat, and he'd stopped fighting it.

"The blood," he whispered, lips barely brushing my ear. "Your blood is the only thing keeping me from tearing this palace down. You know it. I know it. Stop lying."

"I'm not lying!" I snapped. "I'm terrified!"

He let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated through my own ribs.