Chapter 8 · The Taboo Request

"Don't move another inch, Julian. I mean it."

Sloane’s blade was cold, biting into the soft skin of my throat. She hadn't backed off after the bells stopped. If anything, she was closer. I could feel the heat radiating off her—smelling like ozone and old blood. Her breathing was jagged. Her eyes were searching mine, looking for a lie, or maybe for the same spark I was feeling.

"You're shaking," I whispered. "Fear? Or just annoyed that I'm right about you?"

She pressed the steel harder. A tiny bead of blood bloomed against the blade. "You think you can play mind games with me? You're a prisoner. A toy. I can end this right now."

"Then do it." I leaned into the knife. "But the Overlord just called. He doesn't want a corpse. He wants the only man who can stop his mind from rotting. You kill me, and you're the one explaining to him why his last hope is bleeding out on the floor."

Sloane hissed—a sound more animal than human. She didn't pull away, but the pressure eased. For a second, her gaze dropped to my lips. Then it snapped back to my eyes. The tension was electric.