Chapter 229 Stay Close

Chapter 229 Stay Close
I carved away the first curved strip of dead, black tissue. I tossed the ruined flesh onto the cold stone floor.

Bright, hot red blood instantly welled up from the fresh cut. The dark purple veins surged forward, rushing to the newly opened edge.

"Keep going," Klaus choked out, his right hand gripping the edge of the stone block hard enough to crack the rock.

I adjusted my grip on the glass handle. My hands were perfectly steady. The trembling panic that used to seize my chest at the sight of violence was entirely gone. I was a weapon forged in the dark, and right now, I was using that cold precision to save my anchor.

I sliced the second edge of the wound, cutting deep into the muscle to remove every trace of the silver poison. The blood spilled freely now, running hot and heavy down his chest, soaking the waistband of his dark trousers. The metallic smell filled the small room.

I cut the final piece of charred flesh away.

The wound was completely open, a deep, raw circle of bright red muscle.

The reaction of his immortal blood was instantaneous. The dark veins of the curse flared with blinding intensity. The torn muscle fibers began to knit together right in front of my eyes, weaving a rapid, violent web of new tissue. The deep hole filled, the skin pulling tight across the surface.

Within thirty seconds, the massive, lethal wound was gone. A thick, raised pink scar, exactly like the ones covering his ribs, took its place.

I dropped the glass knife. It clattered loudly against the floor.

I grabbed the remaining wet linen and wiped the heavy streaks of blood from his chest. My chest heaved. The intense focus shattered, leaving me completely drained. I slumped back on my heels, resting my bloody hands on my thighs.

Klaus let out a long, shuddering exhale. The rigid tension drained from his massive frame. He rolled his right shoulder, testing the newly healed muscle. It moved flawlessly.

He looked down at me. He saw the dark blood staining my hands and the sheer, hollow exhaustion dragging down the corners of my mouth.

He slid off the stone block, dropping to his knees on the cold floor right in front of me. He reached out, his large hands wrapping gently around my waist. He pulled me forward until I was kneeling flush against him.

"You did it," Klaus murmured. He leaned down, pressing his face into the curve of my neck. His breath was hot and steady against my skin.

"Draven tried to kill you," I whispered, the reality of the near-miss finally hitting my exhausted mind. My hands moved up, my bloody fingers gripping the thick hair at the base of his neck. "He aimed for me, and he tried to kill you."

"He failed," Klaus answered. He lifted his head, his blue eyes burning with a dark, ruthless heat. "He broke his vanguard against your rot, and he ran. He is a coward."

"He will come back," I said, a cold, heavy certainty settling in my bones. "He will march back to the capital. He will tell the Emperor that the Siren is not just a runaway pet. He will tell them I am a plague. They will send the entire Imperial army into this basin."

"Let them send the army," Klaus growled. He shifted his grip, his large hands sliding up my back to pull me impossibly closer. The heat of his bare chest soaked into my freezing skin. "This is our stronghold now. Let them march into the dead lands. We will turn the ash black with their blood."

I looked at the stark, raised pink scar resting just below his collarbone.

A few days ago, I had cried in the dirt, terrified that my toxic magic would drain him completely. I had tried to walk into the rotting basin to spare him from my existence.

But as I sat in the dim antechamber, surrounded by the smell of blood and old stone, the fear was entirely gone. The Emperor had designed me to be a parasite, a beautiful, singing doll that slowly fed on the magic of the continent. He thought he could keep me caged.

He was wrong.

I was a parasite, but I was not a prisoner. I was the rot that would eat the foundation of his Empire. I was the poison that would dissolve his heavy steel gates.

"I am not going to run anymore," I told Klaus, my voice completely steady. The vow hung in the cold air, sharp and undeniable.

Klaus stopped moving. He stared at my face, reading the dark, unyielding fire in my turquoise eyes. The feral madness that usually lurked at the edges of his gaze vanished, replaced by a deep, profound reverence.

"I am going to march back to the Ivory Spire," I continued, the words slipping from my tongue with cold, lethal precision. "I am going to walk through the main gates. And I am going to place my bare hands on the Emperor’s throne."

A dark, beautiful smile broke across Klaus’s bruised lips. He saw the monster I had become, and he worshipped it entirely.

"I will hold the doors," Klaus promised, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that shook my ribs. "I will stand behind you while you melt his crown to slag."

He leaned forward, crashing his mouth down onto mine.

The kiss was heavy, deep, and entirely consuming. There was no hesitation, no frantic desperation. It was a dark, settled promise of war. I opened my mouth, taking the bruising pressure of his lips. I tasted the salt of his sweat and the lingering metallic tang of the blood. My hands slid from his hair down to his broad shoulders, my nails digging into the thick, raised scars.

He pushed me backward, pressing my spine gently against the cold stone block. He followed me down, his heavy, muscular body blanketing mine. The cold of the antechamber vanished, swallowed completely by the intense, roaring furnace of his heat.

His large hands swept down my sides, his thumbs pressing deeply into the heavy leather of my trousers. He broke the kiss, trailing his hot mouth down my jawline. He bit gently into the sensitive skin of my throat, exactly over the dark bruise he had left the day before.

"My queen," Klaus breathed against my pulse.