How had things devolved so quickly? In this realm, it’d only been months since they’d been laughing and reveling together—since Mirceo had read to him in the still of the morning.
Cas had changed; Mirceo . . . hadn’t.
The vampire had forced him into this situation. That prince had never experienced what it was like to have no choice, to be doomed to a single outcome.
To be helpless.
All of Cas’s actions had been directed toward one goal: to wield control over his own destiny. He’d had no choices when orphaned. Just to eat, he’d been forced to do things no child should ever contemplate. He’d had no choices when others had scorned him for his poverty.
Now Mirceo was hemming him in once more. Either the vampire had no clue what his tricks were doing to him—or the selfish prince just didn’t give a fuck.
Cas paced. “Tell me how to be rid of you.”
“I did. Claim my body, and if you still don’t want me, I vow to the Lore I’ll never bother you again.”
“That won’t happen,” Cas said, even as he wondered if he should simply take what Mirceo offered and lose his seal. Then he could find a female to have younglings with.
Could he fuck another male? The mere idea of sinking inside Mirceo made his body vibrate. If Cas went into one of those mindless rampages, he would be inside the prince within a heartbeat’s time. He’d wrench moans out of that vampire, dominating him.
Putting the arrogant prince on his hands and knees. Such a vulnerable position. Cas rubbed the heel of his palm over his shaft.
His only physical issue with taking Mirceo? Cas feared he’d come prematurely. “I just want you gone.”
“And what if you change your mind? How would you ever be able to find me?”
Though a demon could teleport to places he’d previously been, some kind of esoteric Dacian magic dimmed memories of the kingdom’s location. Even a tracker like Cas could never reach Dacia again. Not that he’d ever wanted to remember how to return to that cursed place!
“Caspion, you would be mired in regret.”
“I’ll show as much regret as you did when your uncle set off to assassinate me. Thanks for the warning!”
Gray eyes narrowed. “I warned you before you left, sweetheart. And before you even journeyed to Dacia! But the threat of death didn’t slow you down, did it? Because what happened between us was so powerful that you had to flee what you felt.”
Cas couldn’t argue with that. “Say that’s true. You could’ve requested leniency for your friend.”
“Ah, my friend? The one who betrayed the laws of my people? In any case, I did ask for leniency. I pleaded for it. But I was granted none. So I acted resigned, even as I plotted to do whatever it took to protect you.”
If true—and natural-born vampires couldn’t lie—then this news appeased at least some of the rage he felt toward Mirceo. All these years, Cas had carried that burden.
As it dissipated, numbness took its place.
“When Trehan came for you that night, I was already in Abaddon, ready to defend you,” Mirceo said. “You remained in a godsdamned brothel till morning.”
Cas’s lips parted. He had been there. Mirceo had planned to challenge the great Prince of Shadow? Which meant Mirceo had intended to risk his very life. For me.
“But my uncle never made it to you because he sensed Bettina and was distracted. Then he entered the tournament.” For her, Trehan had left his mist in front of thousands, turning his back on his kingdom. “I couldn’t interfere with anything after that point.”
“Do not remind me.” Those tournament rules had governed all of their behavior inside and out of the ring. “Did you see Trehan fight me?” Say no . . .
“No, I didn’t. My other uncles and I were chasing our new king all over the Lore, trying to protect him and Queen Elizabeth, his mate.” Rubbing his nape, Mirceo added, “But I heard about it.”
Cas’s face heated. “The Abaddonae will never view me the same way. Trehan denied me an honorable death.” Since his self-exile, Cas still wasn’t ready to face the people of his kingdom.
Though I miss Bettina. He hadn’t seen her in centuries.
“Honorable death?” Mirceo scoffed. “You can’t enjoy honor when you’re dead.”
Cas didn’t bother arguing with him; a spoiled prince like Mirceo would never understand. “Did you tell Trehan that I’m your mate?”
“I did.”
Cas’s worst enemy now knew his greatest weakness. “And how did you reveal that? Did you refer to me as your Bride? Is that how you would introduce me?”