“I could feel it coming alive. I can feel it now, inside you. Calling to me,” he answered, pressing his cool cheek to mine. “It’s a fire in my blood and my bone. How could I not know?”

“That’s a nifty and inconvenient ability,” I snapped, barely resisting the urge to shriek. The Throne had insinuated such a thing, but he could’ve been way more clear about what he meant by Zayne being able to sense my grace.

“Isn’t it?” His hand splayed across my hip. “You were going to attack me while my back was to you. Thought you loved me?”

Heart thumping against my ribs, I was acutely aware of how close his hand was to the hilt of my dagger and the grip he had on my wrist. It wasn’t a painful hold. That seemed important to remember. “I do love you. I love you more than anything—”

“Doesn’t seem like a very loving thing to do.” His chin dragged along my cheek as his head shifted just the slightest. “Perhaps you don’t value your life, because I would swear you just moved after I warned you not to. Maybe you value her life more? Keep moving, and I will kill her and then you.”

The Warden froze, but a low, rumbling growl radiated from him.

Zayne chuckled, and the sound was so icy I shivered. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“Yes.” Dez clawed hands closed into fists. “It should.”

“It doesn’t.”

I pulled at his grip, but I got nowhere with the sword. It jutted out into empty space. “You’re not going to kill me.”

“I’m not?”

“If you were, you would’ve done it already,” I gritted out, still struggling.

“Perhaps I like playing with you.” He moved his head again, gliding his cheek along mine in a way that was shockingly familiar and wholly different. “Maybe I will grow bored. Maybe I won’t? But what I do know is you’re going to burn yourself out the longer you pull on your grace, little nephilim.”

“Of course you would remember that over everything else.” Using everything in me, which was a lot, I pulled against his arm and his hold. A scream of frustration burst from me. I hadn’t even moved an inch.

“You sound angry, little nephilim.”

“It’s not nephilim! It’s Trueborn!”

Lifting my foot, I slammed it down on his bare one. Zayne yelped, more out of surprise than pain, but his hold on my waist loosened just enough. I ripped free, swinging my left arm down on the one that held mine. His fingers slipped an inch as I spun under his arm, twisting it. Edges of soft feathers tickled my cheek as a dark shape landed next to me. Dez reached for Zayne’s arm, teeth bared.