SADIE
Blood still stains the combat stones when Dante reaches me. Eleven days—each one carved into my bones like tally marks of denied hunger. Eleven days since he found me bleeding out in that campground, throat opened by rogues who scented what I didn't know I was. Since he forced his blood between my lips and commanded me to live with the authority of someone who's never been denied.
His kiss tastes of copper and conquest, of violence transformed into possession. The crowd dissolves into meaningless noise—traitors learning their final lessons, allies claiming new boundaries, Council recording the shift of power that will reshape supernatural politics for decades. None of it matters. Only his hands framing my face matter, fingers still wet with David's blood. Only his body pressed agai
