Chapter 95 Chapter 95

Chapter 95 Chapter 95
LENORE
“Another thing,” Killian continued, snapping me out of my thoughts. I thought he wanted to say something else about Cameron, but instead—”It wasn’t Aurel who broke the window. It was me. One of the witches threw me at it.”
I blinked at him. Then I burst out laughing at how seriously he’d said it.
I actually couldn’t believe I’d slept through all that—if nothing else, him hitting the window must have been loud—and it reminded me of an incident that occurred when Virginia and I were twelve. We’d been sharing a room then, and there was a particularly terrible ruckus one night that woke us. People breaking into the house to attack our father was nothing new to us by then—we’d even opened the door for a group of them once when we were younger and they’d given us candy—so we’d simply glanced at each other and went back to sleep.
…I guess one could say growing up like that—frequent attempts on my father’s life and rogue attacks on the pack—had kind of made me less reactive to violence and death. The only reason I found the tournament so horrifying was because the representatives were being lied to and participating wasn’t optional. There was also the cherry on top—the King’s purpose for holding it. If my father or another Alpha decided to start holding fight-to-the-death tournaments for any reason—minus the lies—I probably wouldn’t be nearly as bothered.
And speaking of the tournament—
My laughter died just as suddenly as it had started, and I swallowed, moving the hand resting on his face back around his shoulder. He tipped his head at me, the mirth in his eyes replaced by concern while his warm hand remained firmly pressed against my back. “Can I ask you something?” I asked and he slightly drew his brows together.
“You never need to ask before you do.”
That didn’t stop me from worrying at my bottom lip for a moment before asking my question. “Why’s the King bothering with the tournament? …Why isn’t he just coming after you himself?” The question had been itching at a corner in my mind ever since he told me why the King wanted to use the representatives to make the second prince stronger. Except for knowing the King was a narcissistic, vile, abusive, vindictive, heartless… I could go on for a while. But aside from all that—and more—I didn’t know anything else about him. I knew basic math though. The King was about three hundred years old—that was way, way older than Killian, so he was definitely also way, way stronger.
If he came for Killian’s life directly—something I hoped he’d never do—Killian most likely wouldn’t stand a chance.
My thoughts soured at that while oh crossed Killian’s face at my question.
“My father can’t kill me,” he answered and I blinked at him. Wasn’t the point of the tournament— “To be more specific, he can’t kill me himself,” he added. It sounded like it was meant to be clarifying, but it honestly wasn’t because huh?
My thoughts must have been evident on my face because Killian chuckled. Then he heaved a sigh, his hand under my shirt sliding from my back to my waist.
“My father and I are not like typical born vampires, Lenore. My mother made it so only a… specific set of people can kill us.”
My lips parted slightly. What? Whenever my father or pack fighters mentioned that the King was a difficult bastard when it came to death, I thought he was just particularly hard to kill because of his age and the fact that he was a born vampire. I never could have guessed this.
“The last time my father tried to kill me—almost a year after she died—she almost killed him,” Killian continued and my eyes widened because how had she managed that? He snorted. “I’ll explain that bit later, but uh, she also made it so my father couldn’t kill me, so he can try, but I won’t die by his hands. It just won’t happen.”
To say I was relieved by that information would be an understatement.
I sucked in a breath, the relief washing over me like being doused with cold water in a heat wave, but before it could spread to every corner of my body, the fact that the tournament was being held so the second prince could accomplish what the King couldn’t dropped on my shoulders like an anchor. Killian planned to stop the tournament, but then it dawned on me that stopping it wouldn’t solve the root issue—the King could simply find another unethical way to make the second prince stronger.
My chest tightened around the relief that had unfurled, folding the feeling in on itself until it disappeared, and my hands, which were still around Killian’s neck, tightened into fists.
“Hey,” he started at the same time I asked, “The specific set of people you mentioned, who are they?”
The words made me picture a kind of cult whose members were dedicated to the belief that they were the only ones who could kill Killian and the King, and though the image was ridiculous, the threat they posed wasn’t. If the second prince became a non-problem—I wasn’t thinking about his death; him cornering me and making me call him by his name right after the King mind-controlled me still irritated the hell out of me, but him dying wasn’t on my mind right now—I’d still have those to worry about.
“Those bound to me by blood—except my father—and…” He trailed off, his gaze sharpening on me, and I raised my brows, waiting for him to continue. “And those bound to me by fate.”
I frowned. Fate? My mind, apparently assuming I couldn’t figure out the definition of the word myself, generously offered me a synonym—destiny.
Killian had told me his parents had been mates after his father’s mind control over me was broken, and he’d also told me we were mates. Well, he hadn’t actually said the words, but um…mates were basically soulmates.
Those bound to me by fate echoed in my mind and this time when I sucked in a breath, the dousing water threatened to sink me.
I could kill Killian.