Chapter 104 Gentle Touch
I stood frozen in the center of the dim suite, staring at the thick oak and iron door. Vespera’s sickeningly sweet rose perfume lingered in the stagnant air, a cloying, artificial stench that completely overpowered the metallic smell of dried blood and old stone.
She knew.
My chest tightened, a cold, heavy dread settling into the base of my throat. Vespera had seen the black veins. She had seen the silver dagger coated in my crimson blood. She knew Klaus was the filter for my magic, and she knew I had bound my life force to his to pull him back from the edge of the rot. The Emperor would have the truth before the hour was out.
Suddenly, a sharp, piercing spike of confusion hit me.
It wasn't my own thought. It bloomed right behind my ribs, a heavy, disorienting wave of panic that radiated outward from the center of my chest. The blood-bond.
I spun around.
Klaus was awake. He had pushed himself up on one elbow, the coarse dark wool blankets pooling around his waist. His breathing was shallow, catching painfully on his torn ribs, but his sapphire eyes were wide open and fixed entirely on me.
"Nerissa," he rasped. His voice sounded like dry leaves scraping over gravel. He blinked, shaking his head slightly as if trying to dislodge a fog. "Why are you terrified?"
He could feel it. The tether we had forged with my blood was acting as a flawless, terrifying mirror. He could feel the ice water running through my veins and the frantic, trapped-animal panic I was trying desperately to swallow.
I walked to the edge of the mattress, my bare feet silent on the cold floor. My legs felt completely hollow. I sank onto the edge of the bed, the old springs groaning under my weight.
"Vespera was here," I whispered.
Klaus went entirely still. The confusion radiating through our bond vanished, instantly replaced by a cold, calculating surge of military adrenaline. He looked past me, his eyes scanning the empty room, locking onto the heavy iron door.
"What did she see?" he demanded, his tone dropping into the harsh, commanding bark of the Grand Admiral.
"Everything." I looked down at my lap, picking at a frayed thread on my ruined charcoal skirt. "She saw your chest. She saw the black veins. And she saw the dagger on the table with my blood on it. She knows you are the Anchor, Klaus. She knows I fed you."
A string of vicious, guttural curses tore from his throat.
Klaus slammed his right hand against the mattress and tried to force himself up. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, planting his bare feet on the stone floor. He was trying to stand. He was trying to put himself between me and the door.
"Klaus, don't—"
I reached for him, but he was already pushing his weight forward.
The moment his torn torso took the strain, his body simply gave out. The four deep ravines the Trench-Stalker had carved into his side screamed in protest. His knees buckled instantly.
He pitched forward, a harsh, breathless grunt escaping his lips.
I caught him before he hit the stone. I wrapped my arms around his broad, bare shoulders, taking the brunt of his massive weight against my chest. The impact knocked the breath out of me, but I planted my feet, wrapping my arms tighter around his back to keep him upright.
He was trembling. Not from cold, but from sheer, absolute muscular failure.
Through the blood-bond, I felt a wave of agony so intense it made my vision flash white. It was followed immediately by a crushing, humiliating wave of uselessness. He hated this. He hated that his legs wouldn't hold him, that his immortal strength had been entirely hollowed out by the beast and the curse.
"I have you," I whispered fiercely, burying my face in the crook of his neck. His skin was feverishly hot. "I have you. Stop fighting it."
"I have to bar the door," he ground out, his breathing ragged in my ear. He tried to push himself up again, his heavy hands gripping my waist, but his fingers slipped. "If the Emperor's guards come in here, I cannot lift a sword. I can't even stand."
"You don't need a sword." I shifted my stance, wrapping my arm securely around his waist, and gently guided him backward. "Sit down. Please, Klaus."
He offered no more resistance. He let me lower him back onto the edge of the mattress. He sat hunched forward, his forearms resting on his knees, his head hanging in defeat. His silver hair fell over his face, hiding his eyes.
The role reversal was absolute, and it was devastating. The man who had commanded thousands of ships, the monster who had stalked my bloodline through the deep ocean for three centuries, was utterly dependent on my hands to keep him from collapsing on the floor.