“That was your one shot,” Attes hissed. “Blood or not, you won’t get another.” I forced a laugh, even though it fucking hurt to do so. “You sure about that?” “Fates, you are—” “Charming and captivating?” I suggested, relieved to feel the pain lessening already. Attes’s steps faltered. “You’re so much like him,” he breathed, voice strained and cracking on the word him.
