Sienna
The "Morning Feast" had been a blurred nightmare of sharp teeth and fake smiles. I'd stood by Julian's side in a gown of midnight velvet that felt like a shroud, feeling the eyes of every vampire in the room drilling into the "Soul-Claim" mark on my neck. I'd played the part—the silent, devoted consort—but my skin had been crawling the entire time.
Now, the velvet was gone, replaced by a sleeveless leather training tunic and trousers. My hair was pulled back tight.
"You look like you're ready to execute me again," Julian said, stepping into the center of the training court.
The room was vast, a sunken stone arena beneath the estate, lit by flickering torches. No guards. No Council. Just us. Julian had discarded his jacket, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that looked like they were sculpted from marble.
"The thought crossed my mind," I said, testing the weight of the practice blade in my hand. It wasn't silver—Julian wasn't that stupid—but it was heavy, balanced steel. "Is this part of the 'Queen' curriculum? Learning how to swing a sword in a basement?"
"It's part of the 'Survival' curriculum," Julian corrected. He didn't pick up a weapon. He just stood there, his hands loose at his sides. "If the Council suspects the Claim is a sham, they'll challenge it. They'll want to see if our souls are truly in sync. And the only way they test that is through combat."
"So you want to spar," I said, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across my face. "You want to see if the 'pretty battery' has any juice."
"I want to see if you're a Slayer, or just a girl who was taught to play with knives. Come at me, Sienna. Don't hold back."
"You asked for it."
I didn't wait. I lunged, my boots skidding on the sand. I was fast, but Julian was a shadow. He didn't even draw a blade; he just stepped to the side, his hand catching my wrist and spinning me around. I felt the heat of his body against my back for a split second before I threw an elbow at his ribs.
He caught it in his palm, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest. "Slow. You're thinking too much about the strike and not enough about the target."
"Shut up," I hissed, twisting out of his grip and sweeping his legs.
He jumped over my foot with effortless grace, landing so close that I could smell the spiced cedar of his skin. We were inches apart, our breathing the only sound in the cavernous room.
~★~
Julian
She was magnificent when she was angry.
The violet light in her eyes was glowing again, a faint shimmer that told me the Blood-Singer in her was waking up. Every time our skin brushed, a jolt of electricity shot up my arm, a phantom echo of the bond we'd forged on that balcony.
"Again," I commanded.
She came at me with a flurry of strikes—low, high, a feint to the left. She was good. Better than most of the hunters I'd slaughtered over the centuries. But she was fighting like a human, relying on muscle and bone.
"Use the bond, Sienna!" I shouted, catching her waist and pulling her flush against me. "Stop fighting me and start feeling where I'm going to be!"
"I don't want to feel you!" she screamed, her face flushed, her chest heaving against mine.
Our bodies were locked together, my thighs braced against hers, my hands pinning her wrists against the small of her back. The friction was maddening. I could feel the heat radiating off her, the raw, pulsing energy of her life force. It was a hunger that had nothing to do with blood and everything to do with the woman in my arms.
"You have no choice," I whispered, leaning down until my lips brushed her ear. "We are linked. Your heart beats because mine allows it. Your blood sings because I gave it a reason to."
"You're a monster," she breathed, but she didn't pull away. Her head fell back, her eyes fluttering shut as I pressed my forehead against hers.
"And you're a Slayer. So slay me."
I let go of her wrists, giving her an opening. She didn't take it with the sword. Instead, she lunged forward, her hands grabbing my hair, her lips crashing against mine in a kiss that tasted like war and desperation.
It wasn't a kiss of love. It was a collision. A violent, soul-searing claim of her own. My hands found her hips, pulling her into me until there was no air left between us. The shadows in the room flared, responding to the chaos in my blood.
~★~
Sienna
I hated him. I hated the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he'd turned my life into a prison.
But as his tongue tangled with mine, as his cold hands burned tracks across my skin, I couldn't deny the pull. It was like a black hole, drawing me in, stripping away my will. I wanted to bite him. I wanted to tear the life out of him and drink it until I was as cold as he was.
I pulled back, gasping for air, my heart drumming a rhythm that felt like a war march.
"Is that... part of the test?" I whispered, my voice trembling.
Julian's eyes were pure crimson, his fangs fully extended. He looked like death incarnate, and yet, I'd never wanted anyone more. "That was the distraction. This is the test."
He moved faster than I could track, a blur of silver and shadow. I barely had time to raise my practice blade.
Clang.
The steel vibrated in my hand, the force of his blow nearly disarming me. I countered, spinning away and slashing at his shoulder. I wasn't using the practice blade anymore. In the heat of the kiss, in the confusion of the moment, I'd reached for the weight beneath my tunic.
The silver dagger. The one from the vanity.
Julian didn't expect it. He thought I was still playing with the blunt steel.
The blade sliced through his white shirt, cutting a shallow line across his bicep. He froze, his eyes widening in shock.
~★~
Julian
The sting was immediate. Pure silver.
I looked down at the wound. It was a clean cut, the edges already beginning to sizzle as the silver reacted to my ancient blood. A single drop of dark, thick crimson welled up and began to trickle down my arm.
The scent hit the air like a physical blow.
It wasn't the scent of human blood—sweet and metallic. My blood was old. It smelled like damp earth, crushed roses, and a dark, heavy musk that shouldn't have been appealing to anyone with a heartbeat.
But I watched Sienna's face change.
The violet in her eyes didn't just glow; it expanded, swallowing the pupils until her gaze was an alien, shimmering purple. She dropped the practice sword, her nostrils flaring as she caught the scent of my blood.
She didn't look horrified. She didn't look like a Slayer who had finally drawn first blood.
She looked... hungry.
"Sienna?" I whispered, taking a step back.
She didn't answer. She moved toward me, her movements no longer human, but predatory. She reached out, her fingers catching the drop of blood on my arm before it could fall to the sand.
She stared at her stained fingertip for a heartbeat, her chest heaving, her entire body vibrating with a tension I'd never seen in a human.
And then, before I could stop her, she brought her finger to her lips and tasted me.
The reaction was instantaneous. Sienna's back arched, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. A shockwave of violet energy exploded from her, throwing me back five feet.
She collapsed to her knees, clutching her throat, her skin beginning to glow with a dark, pulsating light. But it wasn't the glow of a Soul-Claim. It was something else. Something older.
"Sienna! What is happening?" I shouted, trying to reach her, but the air around her was crackling with a force that burned my skin.
She looked up at me, and my dead heart skipped a beat. Her teeth weren't human anymore. Her canines had elongated into sharp, wicked points, and the hunger in her eyes wasn't for my death.
It was for my soul.
As she lunged at me, a question that shouldn't have been possible screamed through my mind: If the Blood-Singer is supposed to be the vampire's drug... why does it feel like I'm the one about to be consumed?