Reign of Blood

Chapter Twelve

"So, Evette's an asset to Veneficus?" Chronos asked to confirm.

"Nothing more, nothing less."

Her heartbeat said she was lying. Other than that, she had no tells. None whatsoever. Not even a twitch.

Her lack of tells were going to make things harder. It left him with only one way to know whether or not she was lying.

There was no way he could go back to the way he was before. He couldn't let the silver weaken him again.

No tells meant that listening to her heartbeat was the only option he had.

"And she doesn't mean anything to you?"

"Why this curiosity, werewolf? One would think one of your kind would want to know as little about witch affairs as possible. I'm not blind to your hatred. I know, above the fact that you're not the settling down type in the first place, that the thing you hate more than me being your mate is what I am."

She had him there. Chronos hated the witches with a burning, fiery passion.

But he frowned too. She'd noticed he wasn't the settling down type. His beast didn't like that deduction, but the man knew it was correct.

She was right. Witch affairs were of no importance to him. But he had to know here. It was important to his mission and his survival. The more he knew about Annaliese, the easier she'd be to kill. A cutthroat bitch was easier to kill than a stunning beauty.

It was a simple fact.

It had absolutely nothing to do with her being his mate. His beast wasn't demanding more knowledge about her with every passing second.

This was simply for the sake of his mission.

"Alright then. I'll tell you whatever you want to know if you go fetch the wine."

"By all means."

Gracefully, she rose, adjusting her floor length gown around herself- appearances and all. Without question, she left him there for the kitchen.

Chronos wouldn't know for sure if Killian's theory about alcohol was true, but if it was, knowing that she couldn't boil his blood for the night would make his plans immensely easier.

She returned with two glasses, one of which he graciously accepted.

Wine wouldn't affect him like it would her.

Annaliese was soon to be tanked.

"What would you like to know first?"

"Again," She said, heaving out a sigh. "I don't want to know it. I-"

"-Have to know it. I understand." She pursed her lips together, already pouring her glass high. Each time that glass started to go down, he'd either coax her to refill it or do it himself.

He was sure she hated this. She'd hate everything about it.

As Queen, she'd be used to knowing things. People came to her for answers. It was rarely the other way around.

As if having to get her answers from other sources wasn't already bad enough, she had to get them from her werewolf prisoner. Her enemy.

Something told him that bottle of wine would start to go down awfully quickly.

She'd already enjoyed her first hearty gulp.

"What do you have to know first then, blood Queen?"

"Again, I don't—"

"Want to know. Yes. I understand. What do you need to know?"

She sat in silence for a moment, no doubt wondering whether or not to argue this further, before eventually sighing.