I couldn’t deny that I had far more monstrous tendencies than he did. He didn’t attempt to wash away the stain of the blood he shed. He memorialized the lives he felt responsible for. My hands had never been stained. I didn’t live with the lives I took. That would send most fleeing in the opposite direction.

Ash tugged my arms apart and brought his mouth to mine, nipping at my lower lip. “You give without thought, and you can take without hesitation. And, liessa, you’re possessive.”

“As if you’re not,” I said. “Did you forget how you basically promised to murder anyone I sought pleasure with? Or was that just…?” I smiled tightly. “More talk.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. And I would’ve skinned the fucker alive, friend or foe.” He kissed me, flicking his tongue over my fang. A sharp slice of pleasure cut through me, stealing my breath. “And you know what?”

“What?” I breathed.

“My promise to eviscerate whoever you used to satisfy your needs made you…” His lips brushed mine. “Wet.”

My chest rose on a sharp inhale. A mixture of embarrassment and desire scorched my cheeks. Well, it was mostly desire, with a tiny, barely-there dash of shame because he spoke the damn truth.

“And I know you would do the same. That part of me, right or wrong, recognizes that side of you. You love as fiercely as you hate.” He lifted his head. “And just so we’re clear, I believe you meant what you asked of me. It is the kindness in you that wanted me to find happiness. To live. But you wouldn’t have rested peacefully knowing I was with another.”

I opened my mouth but then shut it again. He started to grin. I had meant what I’d said. When I thought I was dying, I’d wanted Ash to finally and truly live. But would I have been at rest? Without him? Or would I have been one of those souls who refused to cross over? Deep down, I knew the answer. “Okay, I might’ve haunted you.”

“No shit.”

My eyes narrowed. “But I would’ve done it lovingly.”

A laugh rumbled from his chest as he dropped his forehead to mine. “You are…adorable.”

“Adorable?”

“Uh-huh.” He brushed his lips over mine. “An adorably faulty Primal.”

I moved to smack his chest, but he caught my hand and returned his cheek to his other hand.

He brought my palm to his mouth and dropped a kiss to the center. “Anyway, going back to the Primal changes.” He lowered my hand to my stomach. “Have you noticed anything else yet, other than your heightened vision?”

I thought that over. “I don’t think so—” I stopped myself, realizing there was something else. The intuition that was more a sense of knowing.

“I don’t know if I mentioned it or not,” I began, “but there’s this uncanny sense of intuition I didn’t have before. Answers—or knowledge—just form in my head at times. I experienced a little of it even before you Ascended me.” I gave a small shake of my head. “It sounds ridiculous, but didn’t your father have the ability of foresight? One he wasn’t born with but developed upon his Ascension?”

“He did,” Ash whispered, his eyes widening slightly. “Vadentia.”

“Foresight.” Surprise flickered through me when I realized I understood the unfamiliar word spoken in a language I hadn’t been fluent in before. “See! I don’t know how I knew that, other than I just did.”

“My father had the ability before Kolis stole the embers.”

Curiosity sparked, fueled by the need to understand exactly what this ability was and its limitations. “Did he ever tell you about this…vadentia? Like how it worked?”

He shook his head. “If anyone would know the ins and outs of that ability, it would be Nektas. I’m sure he’ll be around soon.”

Making a note to ask the draken about it when I had a chance, I rolled onto my side to face him. “Is he not here?”

“I believe he’s with his daughter and Reaver,” he shared, skimming his fingertips down my side.

My heart squeezed as raw emotion twisted in my chest. I hadn’t believed I would see the two young draken again. “I want to hug them,” I blurted, feeling my cheeks warm. “Maybe just Jadis. I don’t think Reaver would like it if I hugged him.”

“He would.” Ash pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I wondered if he had picked up on what I was feeling or if I had projected it. “You hungry?”

My stomach immediately woke up, grumbling rather loudly. I peeked up at him. “I might be a little hungry.”

He chuckled. “There’s fresh water in the bathing chamber,” he told me. “Once you’re finished in there, I’ll get us something to eat.”

“You don’t have to wait on me,” I told him.

“But I want to.” He dragged his fingertip over my cheek and glanced down. “Plus, I get to continue enjoying the scenery.”

Knowing that he was wary of leaving me alone no longer embarrassed me. Instead, his thoughtfulness and concern made my heart feel like it was doubling—maybe even tripling—in size. I leaned over and kissed him. “I would love for you to continue enjoying the scenery.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

I grinned, letting my forehead rest against his. “But there are things we must do.”

“There are.” His fingers skated over my arm, leaving a wake of shivers behind.

“Important things,” I said. “And I have a feeling the longer we stay in this bed, the less likely we’ll be to get around to any of the important stuff.”

“And I have a feeling,” he said, his nose brushing mine, “that we fundamentally disagree on just how important the scenery is right now compared to those other things.”

I laughed, relishing this playful, relaxed side of Ash that I’d only really gotten to see while still in the mortal realm before he brought me to the Shadowlands. That seemed like an eternity ago, and I hated to cut this short. “How am I being the responsible one right now? That’s your job, not mine.”

His lips curved. “I’m not sure I want that job anymore.”

“If you retire from such a position, it will be pure chaos,” I told him. “All day. All night.”

“Good thing I like your brand of chaos.” Ash’s hand dropped to my hip, and he tipped his head back. His eyes, now a warm shade of steel, searched mine. “You sure you’ll be fine?”

I nodded, and my heart filled to the point where it felt like it might burst.

“And you’re telling me the truth?”

“I am.” After everything with Kolis and almost dying, nearly being strangled to death in a bathing chamber no longer factored on the scale of things to be worried about. I didn’t tell Ash that, though. Bringing up Kolis in that way or reminding him of what the godling, Hamid, had attempted wouldn’t help.

“I’m good,” I assured him. “You can go.”

Ash hesitated but then nodded as if telling himself it was okay. I watched him rise from the bed and turn. My gaze immediately swept over the swirls of ink filling the length and width of his back as he retrieved a pair of pants. Those black blood drops were more pronounced against the warm, wheat-ish shade of his skin that held lustrous golden-brown undertones I hadn’t been able to make out before.

The inked blood drops traveling over his back, along his sides, and down his inner hips represented those he’d lost. Lives he felt responsible for. And while the design was beautiful, it was also so very tragic.

There were far too many of them.

Hundreds.

He would never add another drop to his flesh. That was an oath I would not break.

Sitting up, I reached for the first piece of clothing, which turned out to be one of Ash’s long-sleeved tunics. I pulled it on and rose to my knees, my gaze landing on the small wooden box with silver hinges sitting on the bedside table. There was a beautiful design carved into the wood, delicate vines that resembled the scrollwork I saw on the tunics of those in the Shadowlands and the throne room doors.

Ash had collected my hair ties, keeping them in that skillfully crafted box. It may seem like nothing to many, but it meant so much that he treasured something so simple merely because it belonged to me.