Down our newfound bond, the truth behind those words slammed into me, along with unfettered hatred. I blasted an equal wave in his direction. He was the reason my family was dead, Izgath was dead. He was the reason I had to submit to Vagach and why all I’d been told my entire life was that my only use, my only worth, came from my womb. Every ounce of rage I’d suppressed trying to be the demure female, trying to be Vagach, trying to be anything but me, ignited in my veins, white hot and ready to burn everything in its path.

And in that moment, the Halálhívó was in my line of fire.

“You’re right. You are the villain, and as much as you hate me, I hate you ten times over. Maybe I’ll take that nice sharp dagger strapped to your thigh and drive it into my heart just to spite you,” I snarled, glaring up at him. Even on my knees on the bed, he still towered over me, broader by three and emanating enough fury to burn right along with me.

The growl that rumbled from his chest made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “And that, right there, is why I hate you. While I could withstand the pain of any injury you inflict upon yourself, your death would cripple me for weeks, at the very least. And I cannot have that.”

With lighting-fast speed, his hand whipped out and closed around my throat. With the barest bit of strength, he lifted me from the bed, cutting off my air as he did so. His face drifted closer to mine, lip curling back from his teeth with a snarl. The sharp points of his canines caught my attention, severe enough that I knew he could draw blood with a single sharp bite. “The Kral could be captured and tortured in front of me for all I care. The war can continue without him. That is why you are my weakness. My only weakness. Because you are a liability.” He threw me backward, and I gasped as air flooded my lungs again. “If it wouldn’t debilitate me to do so, I’d kill you myself.”

Tears pricked at my eyes as I glared at the Halálhívó, my fucking mate. I must have done something outlandish in a past life for the Weaver and the Reaper to offer this one to me, shuffling from one abusive male to another.

“Not if I kill you first,” I threatened, shoving myself upright again. I wasn’t going to stay down and let him overpower me. I’d learned how to fight over these past weeks, and I refused to be a victim at the hands of another male.

He sneered at me, then yanked a dagger from his thigh. Flipping it around, he offered it to me, hilt first. “Do it.”

I looked at him, then at the blade.

“Come on, little imposter. Are you afraid? Or maybe,” he grasped my wrist and yanked me forward, “you need to be shown how to do it.” Squeezing my forearm, he forced my fist to open, then shoved the blade into it. Curling his hand around my own, he closed my fingers, then used his leverage to drag me closer. He only stopped when the tip of the blade dug into his muscled chest. “All you have to do is push.”

A bud of ruby bloomed on his heavily inked skin. Yet he didn’t flinch, didn’t look down. Didn’t even register the bite of pain that nipped down our bond.

My hands trembled.

“You’re insane,” I spit. The place where our flesh touched was fire, and the thick, invisible noose tying us together burned with desire. Heat pooled between my bare thighs, and I hated myself for my body’s reaction.

This is so fucked up.

“I’m not the one who promised to kill you, then balked at the opportunity to do so,” he growled, throwing me and the knife away. It bounced out of my hand and disappeared among the blankets on the bed. Sweeping my hair out of my face, my attention snagged on the thick outline in his tight pants.

Smirking, I returned to my previous position, like an animal that wouldn’t quit fighting until its opponent delivered the killing blow. It was my turn to take control of the situation. Without warning, I closed my hand over his hardness and squeezed. “I know what it’s like to kill a male. How do you think I got here in the first place? Vagach was no saint. He deserved to be buried in the ground for what he did to me.”

If a fire had burned between us before, an inferno whorled into a frenzy after those words. The Halálhívó grasped my wrist, yanking it away from his body and twisting my arm so I was at his mercy again. “And what exactly did he do to you?”

With the utter death in his burgundy eyes, I suspected that this was the true, lethal killer that everyone so adored. So I told him, figuring he’d relish every cruel deed done to me by my dead husband. They appeared to be one and the same, after all, though maybe the Halálhívó was worse. I’d barely been mated to him for half an hour. He had plenty of time to unleash the evil within.

“He beat me for failing to bear his children. For not being ready for our coupling when he returned home. For any number of infractions, real or imagined, just because he was drunk. And oh how he liked to drink.” I tipped my head back and released a manic laugh. “I wanted to die every day. It would have been more peaceful than the life I lived. Maybe in my next life, I’ll find a love worth living for. You certainly aren’t it.”

A muscle ticked in his stubble-coated jaw, and he released my wrist, taking three steps away. “If he weren’t already dead, I’d slaughter him myself. In fact, I might find his body and call him so I can do it all over again.” The growl that accompanied his words made me want to tremble, the depth of violence in them undeniable. Yet, his declaration surprised me.

Why would he want to protect me rather than hurt me?

To cover the flicker of confusion, I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why? You said so yourself that you’re not a hero.”

“You’re right,” he said slowly, letting each word drop like a stone plopped into a glassy lake.

This time, I allowed the shiver to tumble down my spine.

“I still don’t understand why you care.” I sat back on my heels, waiting for a response. The tension had cooled between us, and my earlier ferocity didn’t feel right after the Halálhívó made an effort to put space between us.

He glanced down at his chest, then to mine, where my magic flared to life, including this newfound connection to Keleti’s most dangerous male. “Mate bond. The thought of someone hurting you already drives me insane, despite my overwhelming desire to shove my cock in your mouth to shut you the fuck up.”

“I would bite it off,” I snapped, an ember of my earlier fire returning.

“I have no doubt that you would try,” he replied, his tone threaded with something bitter. “But a good leader knows when to accept a situation rather than fight against it, and right now, little imposter, that is what I am trying to do.” He stepped forward again, leaning over to brace his fists on the bed. Then he lifted his head, burgundy eyes locking onto mine. “So, are you going to tell me your name?”

I studied him for a moment, from the tattoos of three crows on his scalp to the rose-covered vines and skulls sweeping down his arms. Ink curled around his hands, forming his honorific. Then, I returned to his face, noting the slight curve to his nose, the heavy set of his brow bone, the chunk missing from one of his ears. But those eyes, a shade as unique as my own, held something there, a riotous fire that spoke to me on a level that surpassed all reason.

So, finally, I surrendered my name.

“Assyria.”

“Assyria,” he repeated, my name rolling over his gravelly voice. “I am Rokath.”

I’d only ever heard him referred to as the Halálhívó—from Vagach, Priestess Anara, the other soldiers.

Did anyone actually know his name?

“Most don’t,” Rokath growled, clearly having read my mind through our newfound connection. “And I prefer to keep it that way.” More than a hint of threat hung in the air, and I understood what he meant: I wasn’t to speak it in front of others.