“Promise me,” I pleaded softly.

She nodded hesitantly. “I will. But stop. I know they’re your family and you can’t help worrying. But you’ve done everything you possibly can for them. You’ve given so much. Too much. Let them stand on their own. You need to start looking out for yourself, okay?”

Hadn’t Sorj said something eerily similar?

I swallowed and wiped at my glassy cheeks.

“Don’t pass judgment so quickly either,” Fran said quietly. I flinched. “You don’t know him. Or what he’s like.”

“He used Mr. Cross to broker this marriage,” I pointed out. “And you’ve heard the stories, Fran.”

“That’s all they are. Stories,” she said, taking my upper arms and squeezing.

Blowing out a sharp breath, I gave her my hesitant nod. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” she huffed, cracking a small smile. Then her smile faded. “I’ll miss you, Gem. If I could go with you, I would. You know that.”

“I know.” But it had been in the contract. Only I was allowed to step foot on Krynn. No one else. Not my family. Not my oldest friend. I squeezed her hand. “I’ll—I’ll miss you too, Franny.”

I looked at her, steeling my spine. She gave me a clean cloth to wipe the tears off my cheeks. I took a deep breath, fastening my eyes on the door.

He was near. He was close.

“I’m ready.”

When the doors opened, I saw wings. Great, terrifying, black wings, folded and tucked against their owner’s broad back, hiding their massive span. I couldn’t see his face, but he filled the room like a violent and sudden storm, making panic rise in my throat.

Father’s hand spasmed against my forearm. I stopped at the threshold of the small, darkened courtroom, my legs freezing beneath the skirts of my white dress. A human wedding tradition. I wished I would’ve worn black. He was dressed in black, after all.

This wasn’t a celebration. This was a transaction.

That thought unlocked my legs, and I began to walk, dragging my father forward, whose grip had tightened considerably on my arm.

Is he having second thoughts? I wondered. Bitterly. Sadly. It doesn’t matter now. I am already sold.

I was House Hara’s sacrificial lamb. Offered up to my new husband, with my neck bared and presented, awaiting the slow death of his bite. I’d heard it was a terrible death…to be drained by a Kylorr.

At our approach, he turned.

Whatever remained of the air in my tight lungs whooshed out as our gazes connected.

Red.

He had red eyes. Since his skin was gray, those eyes resembled burning embers nestled among dark smoke. His pupils were vertical slits, flaring briefly as we regarded one another. Then, strangely, those pupils flitted and narrowed on my father.

His bones were sharp—his cheekbones, his nose, the hard square slash of his jawline. His face was grim and surprisingly regal. Haughty and arrogant even, given his pushed back, broad shoulders and the sudden flaring of his massive wings, the sound like a whisper in the silent room. Black horns jutted above his temples, with a ribbon of spikes spiraling tight around each of them.

Our differences—between a human and a Kylorr—were vast, though not as vast as I’d assumed. His face was long and angular, but he had two eyes, a nose, and a wide mouth with thin lips. His hair was black, like mine, shorn to his shoulders. His ears were pointed, the tips peeking through his hair.

Chills ran down my arms, however, when I spied his fangs. Two of them. Long and sharp, poking into his bottom lip, ivory against his dark gray lips. I imagined them slick with blood. I imagined the flash of them in darkness, accompanied by those terrible, terrible red eyes, and I froze all over again.

My father’s grip tightened on my arm.

“Gem,” he said softly. The hesitation clear in his voice. When I looked over at him, there was a bead of sweat dotting his forehead. Indecision played out over his face.

Whatever he was going to say, however, died in his throat and I heard his hard swallow. There was a flash in his eyes. Guilt. Sorrow. But determination as well, and it made my heart sink.

It was my father who pulled me forward this time to approach the three figures: my new husband, his witness whom I barely noticed, standing in a darkened corner, and the Nulaxian male who was overseeing the brief ceremony.

When I stepped up next to the Kylorr, it was jarring how massive he truly was. He towered over me. Though he didn’t carry the large, intimidating bulk of other alien species—like the Nulaxian male before us —he was finely sculpted like a marble statue, taut but lean enough to surprise me.

He’s a berserker, I reminded myself.

An alien-vampire berserker.

The Kylorr’s battle rages were infamous for a reason. Because their strength could be triggered.

By what? I couldn’t help but wonder. Would he grow in size?

As if I couldn’t help myself, I chanced a peek up at the Kylorr. An heir to the Kaalium. Whatever that meant. But it was obvious he was wealthy. That he came from wealth, had been born into it.

His clothes were finely made—the stitching on the leather precise, not a thread out of place. It was a hardened black leather from the looks of it but appeared supple to the touch. There were tailored cutouts for his wings and large straps across his back which made an X shape, hammered steel shapes pressed into the straps, words—Kylorr words?—stamped into the metal. A dagger was at his hip. The handle looked well worn from use. His pants were made of the same material as his tunic, though there was flexible plating that protected the front of his thighs.

And on his hands…gauntlets. Gunmetal gauntlets that covered the tops of his hands, running up to the middle of his forearm. His knuckles made sharp metal points.

Armor, I thought, my mouth going dry.

He’d come to this wedding like he was preparing for battle.

The Nulaxian male made a warbling sound, like a clearing of his throat, as if he sensed the sudden tension in the courtroom, suffocating and heavy.

My father had stopped behind me with Fran. It was only the Kylorr and me standing before the Nulaxian male, facing him.

“Do you come to this joining of your own free will?” the Nulaxian male asked, peering at me with bright blue eyes.

Of course they would need to ask that. It was a common tradition these days with trafficking ports at every major colony.

I nearly laughed. Instead, my fists squeezed at my sides.

“Yes,” I said, the word sounding strong. Strong enough that I saw the Kylorr turn to peer down at me. Even I could see the frown on his face and the narrowing of his eyes. Did he want me to be frightened? Did he want me to turn on my heel and flee at the sight of him?

Perhaps he did. Perhaps he got off on fear and that was why I was here.

Perhaps he’d heard that human women were submissive. That they were malleable to their master’s needs. Was that what this Kylorr wanted? Sex? A human woman chained to the foot of his bed, to frighten and fuck whenever he pleased? Was that what hundreds of thousands of vron were worth to him?

The Nulaxian male, I noticed, didn’t ask my intended husband the same question.

“Then let us begin,” the clerk said, tapping on his Halo tablet, projecting a contract into the air before us. Words in the universal language were enlarged, the paragraph scrolling slowly. “Do you agree to the terms of marriage laid out before you, Gemma of House Hara, daughter of the Collis?”

My heart was throbbing in my throat. The words were jumbled in my mind, though they were clearly projected before me in blue, non-flickering pixels.