Was there a male strong enough, dark enough, vicious enough?

There was…one.

Saetan closed his eyes. He could send for Marjong, let the Executioner do what was needed. No, not yet. Not to that one. Not until there was a reason.

“Saetan?”

He reluctantly opened his eyes and watched, at first stupidly and then with a growing sense of shock, as she pushed up her sleeve and offered her wrist to him.

“There’s no need for a blood price,” he snapped.

She didn’t drop her wrist. “It will make you better.”

Those ancient eyes seared him, stripped him of his flesh until he shivered, naked before her. He tried to refuse, but the words wouldn’t come. He could smell the fresh blood in her, the life force pumping through her veins in counter-rhythm to his own pounding heart.

“Not that way,” he said huskily, drawing her to him. “Not with me.” With a lover’s gentleness, he unbuttoned her dress and nicked the silky skin of her throat with his nail. The blood flowed, hot and sweet. He closed his mouth over the wound.

Her power rose beneath him, a slow, black tidal wave skillfully controlled, a tidal wave that washed over him, cleansed him, healed him even as his mind shuddered to find itself engulfed by a mind so powerful and yet so gentle.

He counted her heartbeats. When he reached five, he raised his head. She didn’t look shocked or frightened, the usual emotions the living felt when required to give blood directly from the vein.

She brushed a trembling finger against his lips. “If you had more, would it make you completely well?”

Saetan called in a bowl of warm water and washed the blood off her throat with a square of clean linen. He wasn’t about to explain to a child what those two mouthfuls of blood were already doing to him. He ignored the question, hoping she wouldn’t press for an answer, and concentrated on the Craft needed to heal the wound.

“Would it?” she asked as soon as he vanished the linen and bowl.

Saetan hesitated. He’d given his word he wouldn’t lie. “It would be better for the healing to take place a little at a time.” That, at least, was true enough. “Another lesson tomorrow?”

Jaenelle quickly looked away.

Saetan tensed. Had she been frightened by what he’d done?

“I…I already promised Morghann I’d see her tomorrow and Gabrielle the day after that.”

Relief made him giddy. “In three days, then?”

She studied his face. “You don’t mind? You’re not angry?”

Yes, he minded, but that was a Warlord Prince’s instinctive possessiveness talking. Besides, he had a lot to do before he saw her next. “I don’t think your friends would care much for your new mentor if he took up all your time, do you?”

She grinned. “Probably not.” The grin vanished. The bruised look was back in her eyes. “I have to go.”

Yes, he had a great deal to do before he saw her next.