The whip slipped from Tavius’s hand, falling to the cracked marble tile.

Ezra and my mother were the first to react, dropping to their knees as they placed their hands over their hearts. The Royal Guards who’d entered behind them followed suit. Tavius and the other guards were as frozen as I was.

Nyktos looked to his right, to who I slowly realized was the god who’d given me the shadowstone dagger. Ector nodded curtly before turning to me.

As the Primal returned his attention to those before him, Ector knelt beside me. Distaste filled his deep amber eyes. “Animals,” he muttered.

“That’s an insult to animals,” came another voice, and I looked up to see the god who had stood to the Primal’s left. The deep black skin of his jaw was hard as he glanced at my back. “There is no blood.”

“He didn’t break the skin,” I heard myself whisper. “He’s not skilled enough with a whip for that.”

His eyes, the color of polished onyx, flicked to mine. Eather glowed behind the barely visible pupils as a slow grin started to appear. “Apparently, not.”

“Saion?” Ector carefully touched my shoulders. “Can you get rid of the ropes?”

“Gladly.” The god curled his fingers around the bindings. Immediately, the edges of the rope frayed under Saion’s hand. A faint charge of electricity danced around my wrists, and then the rope broke apart, falling to the floor as ash. I started to topple forward, but Ector kept me upright.

A sharp sensation of pinpricks rushed down my arms as they fell to my sides, the blood returning to them. “Is this…is this real?”

“Unfortunately,” Ector muttered.

Saion snorted as his hands replaced the other god’s. “Unfortunately?” He eased me down, so I was sitting, but his hands remained, causing another jolt of energy to rush over my skin. “I’m about to get my daily dose of entertainment.”

Ector sighed as he rose. “There’s something wrong with you.”

“There’s something wrong with all of us.”

“This won’t end well.”

“When does it ever?” Saion asked.

“Who?” the Primal snarled, jerking my attention to where he stood. Fury radiated from him, and I had…I had never heard him sound like that. “Who took part in this?”

“Them,” a soft, shaking voice answered—the same frightened voice that had lured me into that room to be attacked.

I found her by the doors on one knee, her head barely lifted. “I saw them in the hall with her, Your Highness. Three of them were with the Prince, and the fourth joined with…” She shook. “I went to get Her Grace.”

The Primal’s chin lifted to where the three Royal Guards stood with Pike, who still held the bow. A guard spoke in a trembling voice. “I thought he was just going to scare her. I didn’t know—”

The Primal turned his head to the male, and that was all. He looked at him. Whatever the Royal Guard had been about to say in his defense ended in a choked gasp. The man stumbled forward, the blood draining rapidly from his face. His head kicked back as his lips peeled over his teeth in a scream that was never given life. I jerked as tiny cracks appeared in the man’s pale, waxy flesh—deep, bloodless splits opening across his cheeks, down his throat, and over his hands.

 The Royal Guard shattered, broke apart like fragile glassware, into a fine dusting of ash and then…nothing. Nothing remained of him, not even the clothing he wore or the weapons he bore.

My wide eyes shot to the Primal. That kind of power…it was inconceivable. Terrifying and impressive.

“Here we go,” Ector murmured.

My gods, that was what he was capable of. And I had stabbed him? I’d actually threatened him. Multiple times. The strangest thought occurred to me as one of the other Royal Guards turned to run and only made it a step before he froze mid-flight, his arms whipping out, stiff at his sides. Why in the hell did the Primal ever use a sword if he could do that? A grossly inappropriate laugh crawled up my throat as the guard’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Cracks appeared across his cheeks as he rose off the floor. He…he crumbled slowly, from the top of his head to his boots, collapsing in a stream of dust.

 Ector glanced down at me, raising a brow.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. It had to be the pain in my back that ebbed and then surged. The shock. Everything.

The third guard fell to his knees, begging. He too shattered into nothing.

“He seems angry,” Ector spoke over my head.

“You…well, he’s been moody lately,” Saion replied, and I felt another laugh taking form. “Let him have his fun.”

“I’m not going out like that.” Pike—the utterly idiotic man—lifted the bow and fired.

The Primal twisted, moving so fast it was nothing more than a blur. He caught the arrow just before it made contact with his chest. “

“Now that was a bold move,” Saion commented. “A really bad one, but bold.”

“You fired an arrow at me? Are you for real?” The Primal tossed the arrow aside. “No, you don’t have to go out like that.”

“Oh, man,” Ector added with another sigh.

The Primal was suddenly in front of Pike. I hadn’t even seen him move.

Taking hold of Pike’s arm, he twisted sharply. Bone cracked. The bow fell, clattering off the tile as the Primal gripped the man around the throat. “There are many ways you can be taken out. Thousands. And I’m well acquainted with all of them,” he said. “Your options are endless. Some painless. Some quick. This way won’t be either.”

The Primal’s head snapped forward. There was a brief flash of fangs, and my stomach hollowed. He tore into Pike’s throat, ending the man’s short, abrupt scream of terror. Wrenching his head back, the Primal forced the man’s jaw open as he spat a mouthful of Pike’s own blood into his mouth. My stomach churned with nausea as I planted a hand on the tile. The Primal shoved Pike aside. The mortal fell to the floor, twitching and grasping at the jagged tear in his throat. I couldn’t look away. Not even when he stopped moving and his blood-coated hands slipped away from his neck.

Ector’s head cocked to the side. “You call that moody?”

“Well…” Saion trailed off.

The Primal then turned to Tavius. “You.” Ice fell from the word.” He looked down, his blood-smeared lips curling into a smirk. The breeches along the inside of Tavius’s leg had darkened. “So afraid you pissed yourself. Do you regret your actions?”

Tavius said nothing. I didn’t think he could. All he could do was nod jerkily.

“You should’ve thought about that before you picked up that whip,” the Primal growled. “And touched what is mine.”

What is mine?

Another laugh tickled the back of my throat. Now he claimed me?

A rush of air stirred around me. I blinked. That was the amount of time that had passed. The spot where Tavius once stood was empty. My brows lowered. A second later, my mother screamed. I turned, barely feeling the pull against the tender skin of my back.

The Primal had Tavius pinned to the statue of Kolis, several feet off the floor, the whip wrapped around his throat. The Primal’s skin was more silvery than dusky now, thinner, and those shadows became even more apparent. “I would ask what kind of mortal you are, but it is evident that you’re a pathetic pile of shit shaped into that of a man.”

Tavius’s face turned a mottled red and purple as he sputtered, digging at the whip around his throat.

The Primal’s chin dipped as his head cocked. With his other hand, he reached for Tavius’s waist and jerked his hand back. He held the dagger he’d gifted me. “This,” Nyktos growled, hooking the blade into one of the leather straps that crossed his chest, “does not belong to you.”

“No! Please! He’s my stepson.” My mother rushed forward, stumbling over the hem of her gown. “I don’t know what got into him. He would never do this. Please. I beg of you—”