The rest of the wedding ceremony passed Emilio by. Emotionally, he was just... drained. He sat there on his throne, staring at the spot where he'd just killed someone. Where children had been slaughtered. Somewhere beneath those dancing feet, there was still blood soaking the ground.

He had taken a life.

And he was indirectly responsible for the deaths of three children.

Maybe you did them a favor. How could they ever have been happy with a monster like that as a husband and father?

For some reason, the voice sounded exactly like Iliyan, just like the time he'd tried to justify killing Mayu.

As determined as he'd been to save Emilio back then, he was nowhere to be found now. Had he really abandoned him after everything they'd been through together? Emilio couldn't believe it. Maybe the ruler had imprisoned him too. If he'd already killed Mateo because Emilio refused to obey, then he'd still have something else to hold over him.

Not knowing gnawed at him. He wanted to ask Mateo whether he'd seen a warrior locked up in that prison, but with the ruler sitting right beside him, he didn't dare. What if Iliyan wasn't imprisoned, and the idea only occurred to the bastard once he realized how much Iliyan meant to him?

He turned his head toward the man beside him. Ever since the children had been killed, he hadn't said a single word to the asshole. "How much longer is this crap gonna take?"

The grin that spread across the ruler's face made him regret asking immediately.

The man rested a hand on Emilio's knee. His foul breath brushed against Emilio's ear as he whispered, "You not want wait for me?"

A shiver crawled down Emilio's spine.

Before he could come up with a smart comeback, the ruler stood, motioned for silence, and launched into yet another speech.

Emilio clenched his hands into fists.

Why the hell did I say that? Sitting through this stupid celebration was a hundred times better than what was waiting for him at the end of it.

Trying to distract himself from words he had no desire to hear, he leaned toward Mateo, who looked like he was bored out of his mind.

"I've gotta get out of here," he whispered.

Mateo gave him a skeptical once-over. "And you seriously found some divine powers somewhere? Teleportation would come in handy right about now... or—"

"Dude, I'm serious!" Tears sprang into Emilio's eyes.

"Oh, don't freak out over that so-called marriage. It's not like it's legally binding for you. You're about to become one of the most powerful men in this kingdom—or whatever the hell this place is."

"Powerful," Emilio scoffed. "I'm a prisoner, and he's blackmailing me. But I don't want to... later..." His voice cracked. "Fuck, Mateo—what the hell were you thinking when you married me off?"

Mateo shrugged. "That at least you'd stay alive."

"And that I'd just let that asshole fuck me?"

"You could always fuck him. It's not really that different from screwing a woman."

Emilio snorted. "Like he'd ever go for that."

"Sounds like he's pretty excited about your little private celebration. He's got ten wives he can take from behind. Doesn't work the other way around. For that, he needs a man. Bet he'd love feeling your dick in his ass."

The image made Emilio feel just as sick. Sweat had already broken out across his body again.

Only vaguely did he realize the ruler had finished his speech.

How much of that conversation did he catch?

His expression gave nothing away.

Instead, the man extended a hand. "Come. Now blood bond."

More blood.

At this rate he was going to throw up.

Against every instinct he had, Emilio placed his hand in the ruler's.

The ruler stepped forward.

A priest approached them, a ceremonial knife in his hand. He stopped beside them, turned to the crowd, and began speaking. Emilio caught the words blood and gods, but he was far too nervous to make any real effort to follow the speech.

The ruler—how ridiculous was it that Emilio still didn't even know the man's name?—held out his left hand, palm up.

The priest drew a diagonal cut across it.

Blood welled up instantly.

A moment later, Emilio realized he was expected to do the same with his right hand.

The blade sliced across the old scar from his fall in the high mountains, cutting through part of it again. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as pain immediately pulsed through his hand.

"The divine couple will now be bound together in blood for all eternity."

At least, that was the translation Emilio's pain-clouded brain attached to the words that followed. It had to be something along those lines.

The ruler took hold of Emilio's wounded hand and pressed it firmly against his own.

Emilio tried to yank his hand away—who knew what kind of diseases this creep carried—but the ruler's grip was ironclad.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Apparently, nobody found it strange that two men had just been married.

Right. So this is the one thing they're actually progressive about...

He knew he should probably force out a smile. Something that would make the people believe he wanted this. That he and the ruler were equals. That he wasn't being forced into it by this bastard.

He couldn't do it.

And all this... because I let Sawa tell everyone we were gods.

We should've called ourselves lost travelers. Juan and I would've both been put to work, and we could've escaped together.

He would've never met Iliyan.

But then he also wouldn't be dealing with the painful realization that his friend had abandoned him.

He could've at least said something to me... back in that hallway...

The priest took his time wrapping their hands together before a group of six warriors approached carrying the double litter.

Feeling as though every bone in his legs had turned to sand, Emilio dragged himself toward it. The only upside was that the slick bastard finally let go of his hand. As soon as he was seated, he cast one last glance at Mateo. There wasn't a trace of guilt on the man's face.

You filthy asshole.

Emilio looked away again. The people surrounding him blurred into little more than shadows as the litter rose and began to sway forward.

He didn't say a word during the journey to the other pyramid. The cut in his palm throbbed viciously, and although the man sitting beside him had to be in just as much pain, Emilio had no illusions that it would stop him from doing what he intended once they arrived.

They left the sandy path behind and were carried up the endless flight of stairs.

Emilio leaned back and looked up at the stars. It was impossible to believe that only yesterday he'd been lying beneath that same sky with Iliyan beside him, the two of them speculating about what would happen once they'd proven Emilio's divinity.

Neither of them had imagined this.

As they reached the top of the stairs and entered the broad corridor, a spark of hope flickered back to life.

The palace had been empty.

Iliyan had had plenty of time to sneak inside and find the ruler's bedchamber. No one would be in there.

There wouldn't be a better chance to escape.

The idea made so much sense that Emilio felt himself coming alive again. He fought to keep a grin from spreading across his face. Suddenly, he was certain Iliyan had thought of the exact same thing. He was clever enough, and sneaking into the palace wouldn't scare him.

By the time the litter came to a stop and was lowered to the floor, adrenaline was surging through Emilio's veins.

Man... I can't wait to see that bastard's face when he comes face-to-face with Iliyan's spear.

His change in mood didn't escape the ruler. Just before pushing open the door, the man studied him for a long moment. Then the grin returned.

"You want me. You just not admit in front of friend."

"I'm not getting out of this anyway," Emilio said with a shrug. "Might as well make the best of it, right?"

Even with rescue only moments away, sweat was already dampening his back. Encouragingly, he placed a hand against the man's shoulder blades, silently urging him to open the damned door.

It worked.

The heavy wood swung inward with a groan, revealing a room washed in strips of moonlight that spilled through tall, narrow windows, along with the desert wind. The thing that passed for a bed was round and large enough for several people.

Does he normally sleep here with all those wives?

There wasn't much furniture. Just a stool holding a clay jug, and a long wooden chest covered in elaborate carvings that Emilio assumed held the ruler's clothes.

That's the only place someone could hide.

"So... now that we're married..." Emilio said, lingering a step behind so the ruler would have to turn his back to the chest if he wanted to face him. "Isn't it about time you told me your name?"

It worked.

The man turned around.

"Kuyasqay. You call me."

"Kuyasqay." Emilio tilted his head. "Is that your name... or a title?"

Not that he gave a damn. He just didn't know how else to keep the conversation going.

Come on, Iliyan... This would be a really good time to come out.

He shot another impatient glance toward the large chest.

Kuyasqay followed his gaze over his shoulder before turning back to Emilio with a faint frown. For a second Emilio thought he was about to walk over to the chest himself, but instead the man stepped closer and slowly let his hand slide along the slit in the side of Emilio's ceremonial skirt.

Emilio immediately recoiled until his back hit the wooden door.

"Dude. Don't touch me."

Kuyasqay clicked his tongue. "You not know clothes come off?"

"I don't have to do shit," Emilio growled.

Again his eyes darted toward the chest.

Come on... There'll never be a better moment than this.

The lid didn't move.

Not even a fraction.

Slowly, it sank in that Iliyan wasn't here either.

His shoulders slumped. I'm really not getting out of this. Or...

A new thought slipped into his mind. Of course you can get out of this. You just have to do it yourself.

"You forget I have Mateo?" Kuyasqay asked. The unreadable look in the man's eyes never wavered.

There would be no talking his way out of this. The bastard wasn't going to stop until he'd gotten what he wanted.

Afraid Kuyasqay would realize he was planning something, Emilio decided to go all in. He pressed his lips against the man's and yanked the feathered headdress from his head. Pouring every ounce of passion he could fake into the kiss, he forced himself to imagine he was kissing a woman instead.

At least the man's smooth skin made that part a little easier.

Kuyasqay kissed him back eagerly.

A heartbeat later Emilio's own headdress hit the floor as well.

He shoved the ruler backward.

His entire body tensed the instant those disgusting hands began roaming over him, but he forced himself to imagine they belonged to someone else.

Never breaking the kiss—so he wouldn't have to look at the man's face—Emilio slid his own hands beneath Kuyasqay's robes. He kept driving him backward until they toppled onto the pile of wool blankets that served as a bed.

Determined to stay in control, Emilio wrapped a hand around the man's cock.

Kuyasqay gasped.

Emilio immediately shifted his weight fully on top of him, pinning his upper body between his knees so both arms were trapped against his sides. Once he had him in the best hold he could manage, he brought both hands around the ruler's throat and squeezed with everything he had.

For a brief moment, a grin flickered across Kuyasqay's lips as he muttered something in his own language. "I cannot die. I am a god."

Keep believing that, asshole.

Emilio threw as much of his weight as possible onto the man's throat, relieved that despite the cut in his palm he could still put plenty of force behind it.

Now fear finally appeared in those dark eyes.

Kuyasqay struggled wildly, trying to wrench his arms free while kicking his legs beneath Emilio, but Emilio had positioned himself well. He ignored the knees slamming into his back.

Just keep squeezing.

Don't stop.

Kuyasqay's eyes bulged.

Though it was too dark to make out the color of his face, Emilio knew it had to be turning purple.

As much as it had sickened him to kill the woman earlier that evening, he didn't feel the slightest hesitation or remorse now.

This bastard deserved to be strangled in his own bed.

"Goodbye," Emilio said in the language Iliyan had taught him. "I hope you never find peace."

He kept staring into those hateful dark eyes until the life finally faded from them.