Page 38 of A Bond in Blood (Blood Bound Duet #1)

Chapter 38

M y mare flew through the village, kicking dirt and mud from the pouring rain while I steered her to my destination.

I knew that handwriting.

Gods, what was this?

What had he done?

The rain grew thicker, almost blinding me when I arrived. I dug my feet into the mare’s side, alerting her to stop and I jumped from her, tying her to the post outside the small building I’d run to.

I opened the door, finding the little cottage empty and dusty.

The only thing my mother had left me. The seaside home her parents built when she first met my father. A place just for her on a strange new island.

I moved around the space, my heart racing while I lit the fire and threw my cloak onto a dusty chair at the table.

When the heat had warmed the building some, I turned back to the front door. Walking right out into the rain.

It only took a few steps before I was stopping at the crossroads. The only one I knew to exist outside of our village.

I reached into my gown’s pocket, my finger brushing the gold coin and the knife I had hidden. I lifted the blade, trembling while I breathed out and sliced it across my wrist.

“Ulrich!” I screamed, allowing my blood to hit the dirt. “I know you can hear me!”

I was not in Vaneer. I was not burying my blood as he had instructed me. But he had already lied so much.

And my soul was the one guiding me in this moment.

Calling him to me.

“Face me you coward!” I shouted.

The lightning cracked with my words like it had filled the sky the day his black ship and right hand had claimed me. I peered over the hill sloping down toward the sea the cottage overlooked.

Mist came from the water as thick, dark shadows.

He was coming.

Hands wrapped around me, pulling me back.

“I cannot rid myself of you, Ursa,” he whispered into my ear. He flipped me around, forcing me to meet his eyes hidden behind the death mask tight across his face.

“You liar,” I said calmly.

“So, you do not have to bury the blood. It still makes quite a tale,” he laughed.

I slapped him.

His eyes went dark, and he gripped my wrist. “Did you call me to slap me?”

“I know ,” I seethed.

His expression turned to one of panic.

“Brenna.” His tone dropped.

My hand went to my gown, pulling two letters out, throwing them at his face.

“Is it Ulrich or Leif? I’m not sure anymore.”

The papers fell to the ground at his feet, but he did not pull his eyes up. The lightning cracked in the sky again while the rain grew thicker. Plastering my hair to my head.

Soaking us both.

“I demand answers.”

His eyes rose upward.

“Now.”

He was silent.

“Ulrich! Do not make me hate you further than I already do!”

“You—” He paused, and his chest lifted with his breaths. “Are maddening.”

More lightning.

I scoffed. “I am maddening?”

He rushed toward me, pulling me into his arms. Pressing my body to his.

“What is it that you know? ” he whispered. “Tell me, Brenna.”

I gulped.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“You fooled me,” I cried.

“ When I gaze out in the night, I can’t help but marvel at the land. In the dark, its beauty is of another world—an old, distant world, but in the day is when it shines. The brilliant blue skies captivate the mind, forcing you to forget any hardships in your heart. I imagine your blue eyes will do the same for me.”

My pulse skipped as he recited one of the letters. Not the ones I’d thrown at his feet, but one I had left at home.

“I was not wrong,” he whispered. “They captivate the mind. Blue so bright I wonder if they could cleanse my dark soul.”

“I hate you,” I sobbed.

His hand brushed my cheek. “I hate you as well. Fuck, I hate what you do to me.”

I leaned into his touch, unable to accept the insanity of his skin against mine.

He breathed out. “I did not intend for this to go this way.”

“You’re insane,” I muttered. “You have played me a fool.”

I fell to the ground, sinking into the mud. He fell with me, gripping my face in his palms.

“What did you do?” I whispered, shaking my head. “What did you do?”

“Leif wrote at first. Gathering the information I needed. Doing what I demanded of him. But then he started to fall for you, disobeying my instructions.”

His grip on my face tightened while he breathed out slowly.

“I took over, writing to understand what beast I was claiming. To know what triggers I could use to make you hate me and ensure you would never want to show me kindness.” He let go, releasing a rageful yell.

“Fuck!”

The sound cracked with the lightning in the sky.

“Fuck, Breanna!” he shouted. “You made it so fucking hard to not be intrigued—to not want more. It was all a game, a jest to play you as the foolish woman I believed you to be.” His gaze held mine and I was sure he would melt me into the earth.

“Then you walked into that fucking ballroom, wearing that fucking red dress, with hair to match the fire of your hate and Fate fuck it all, it made me hate you instantly.”

I sniffled. “Hate?”

He gripped my face again, pulling me to him. “Because I suddenly realized there was nothing I could do to stop myself from actually falling in love with you. Which only made my hate for all that you make me feel turn deeper, all-consuming.”

I shoved him away.

“I hate you,” I said again.

“I know, Bren. I know,” he whispered.

My name being uttered like that on his lips was my undoing. Cracking open the madness I did not want.

“I hate you,” I repeated.

“I know,” he replied.

“I may never forgive you,” I muttered.

“I know,” he repeated.

I looked into his eyes, barely able to see through the rain. His lips claimed mine in an instant. Our kiss was a fire, burning through my body while he lifted me from the ground. My legs went around his hips, and he held me in place, moving his lips against mine.

Hungry.

Gods, was he hungry.

He pulled away.

“Where?” he asked breathlessly.

I pointed to the cottage and the smoke disappearing with the rising red moon. We were before the threshold in seconds, moving at a speed I could not understand.

He kicked the door down, keeping his hold on me around his waist.

“What do you need, Bren?” he asked, kissing me again.

“You,” I sobbed. “Ulrich, I need you.”

We fell onto the bed with the light from the fire warming the space. Our wet bodies instantly soaked the blankets, but neither of us cared. All that mattered was he and I.

Us—together.

My hands went to his mask, but his hands stopped me.

“No.”

“Ulrich,” I begged. “Please, please do not do this.”

“I am not supposed to be here,” he muttered. “This is not supposed to happen.”

“You started this all,” I replied. “You made me a pawn in this game.”

“Brenna,” he sighed.

“How did you get here so quickly?”

“I never left you my Enaid ,” he replied. “I have hidden myself and my ship in the shadows.”

“Say that again,” I whispered.

“ My Enaid .”

“Again.”

“ My Enaid ,” he repeated himself, allowing the words to leave his lips with a slow, sensual tone.

The fire went out and his shadows grew around us, blocking my sight like so many nights before.

“I cannot yet show you my face,” he whispered. “But I can allow you to touch me.”

The mask landed beside me and my hand rose, trembling. His hand stopped me, guiding me to the right-side of his face, allowing me to brush against his cheek.

“Oh my Gods,” I sobbed at the touch of his skin.

He grunted at my touch, gripping my fingers in his palm, holding me to him. My tears fell while I brushed his cheek with the end of my palm laying against his beard.

“ My Enaid ,” he whispered again. “You have destroyed me.”

His kiss claimed my soul. Ripping a part of me away with its movements. Guiding me into the void of his shadows encompassing us. But the darkness did not bother me. Not when I could feel his nose against mine. The softness of it with no hard mask hitting my skin.

I did not want to remove my hand from him, but I pulled away, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He lifted my hips with his, keeping his hands on my waist.

“I need you,” I whispered. “I need you .”

“I am at your mercy,” he replied.

His hands gripped me, and he moved as though he were going to flip me onto my stomach, but I grabbed his hands.

“No, not like that. Ulrich, I need you to make love to me.”

He paused.

“Please.”

“You do not know what you’re requesting.”

“I do,” I replied. “Please.”

The darkness was too much for me to see through now that he had layered the entire room with it. Blocking out the windows and every possible crack of light that could slip through.

“Ulrich,” I repeated. “Make love to me.”

He was silent, unmoving. I regretted my words. Wondered if I had been asking for too much too soon. When we had yet to even speak about what he had done. When he hadn’t even tried to explain himself to me.

“Brenna.” His voice was soft, barely audible, as his lips brushed my neck.

I jolted.

“Bren.”

His mouth went lower while his hands pulled up the hem of my gown. He lifted it over my head, undressing me completely.

My body shook from the cold of the room and the sounds of wet fabric hitting the floor raised the hair on my arms.

His hands ran up my legs, rough, large, strong. Gripping my thighs.

“My Enaid, ” he whispered as his mouth claimed me.

I cried, jolting with the heat of his tongue on my clit. Flicking back and forth while his fingers entered me.

It was all insanity.

Gods, I needed more of it.

His mouth moved faster, sucking on me while his fingers moved slowly. In and out. Curling with precision each time he left my warmth.

“ Enaid, ” he muttered around me, sucking once more.

“Ulrich,” I cried, gripping his hair. Allowing myself to touch him. To actually feel him when he gave me pleasure.

He grunted when I tugged the tie from his hair, releasing the bun he had it wrapped in.

“More of that,” he groaned.

My legs trembled around his head while I kept my fingers in the thick strands. Tugging and pulling. Forcing indecent noises from his lips.

He rose, keeping his fingers inside, pressing his chest against mine.

“The taste of you,” he groaned. “I could live on it for eternity.”

“Ulrich,” I gasped his name again.

He leaned into me, claiming my lips. Shocking me in the dark. His fingers curled more, moving slightly faster.

“What do you want?” he whispered against my lips.

“More,” I cried. “More. I will never have enough of you.”

“Yes,” he moaned.

“Please.”

He removed his fingers but continued to brush my sensitive flesh.

“You came for me,” I cried while he continued his caresses.

“I did not leave,” he replied.

I didn’t understand the words. But I did not want to understand them. Not now. I wanted to let go; I wanted to continue to fall into oblivion with him.

He leaned over me, kissing me softly and I moved my hand down. My fingers brushed him, and he jolted.

“Bren,” he muttered. “I am fine.”

I kissed him back, wrapping my hands around his shaft. “You do not allow me to give you the pleasure you give me.”

His hand gripped my hair. “Brenna.”

“Say my name, Ulrich,” I whispered. “Call out to whatever Gods you worship.”

I pressed against his chest, forcing his back against the mattress, trailing my hands down his broad chest. Moving them along where I knew his ink to be.

I moved upward, reaching for his face but he stopped me, only allowing my palm on his jaw.

“Brenna,” he whispered again.

I kissed him, cutting off his words. Wanting his fears to die with the heat of my lips. Like mine were melting away from me.

He was shaking when I pulled away. His hands trembling against my back, pressing into the scars created by his own hand.

I removed his palm from me and laid it gently on the bed.

“Call my name, Ulrich,” I muttered while I made my descent. “Call my name.”

My tongue licked his tip, taking in the small bead of moisture coming from him. His fingers wrapped in my hair.

“Brenna,” he gasped as my lips wrapped around him. “Oh fuck.”

I smiled around him, loving the pleasure I was giving back to him. Returning the release he was always so willing to give me.

His hips moved while my head lifted up and down and my hands gripped the base of his shaft. I tightened my hold on him, wanting him to feel my desire for his release. Wanting him to know I needed him.

His sounds—they were addicting.

A hand removed from the tangle of my hair, coming down and holding my chin while he continued to thrust down my throat. Bringing tears to my eyes from the force of it.

He stopped and pulled my chin up. As though he were gazing into my eyes in the dark.

“You wanted to make love,” he whispered.

I nodded.

“Do you love me?”

My tears fell—unexplainably. I couldn’t answer. The response was at the tip of my tongue, but I could not do it.

His thumb stroked my lips. “I will make love to you, my Enaid .”

His hands wrapped around my hips, pressing me into the bed. With one hand, he held my arms above my head. Trapping me in my spot.

“I want to touch you,” I protested.

He said nothing, he only gripped me tighter and I yelled out when he pressed into me.

“Oh Gods,” I cried.

He leaned forward, releasing his hold on me, allowing my arms to wrap around his neck.

He thrusted into me, making my lip quiver from the pleasure.

“I have told you about those Gods,” he whispered, then thrusted again. “They are not welcome.”

I brought my legs up, enveloping his body in them while I held onto his neck. I tugged on his hair, pressing my lips against his while he continued to move.

Holding him so close was an addiction, a poison I never wanted to leave my body. The heat of his chest on mine. His breath on my lips. His hair brushing my fingers at his neck.

He was mine and I was his.

He pulled away from me, kissing hard before he was lifting my legs up, placing them in my own hands.

“Hold on,” he whispered, kissing my calf.

My head hit the dusty pillow on the bed when he entered me, pressing in forcefully but not hard like all the times before.

This was firm, controlled.

Him and I.

His thumb began its maddening circles on me, and I held onto my legs, using them to ground myself while he moved. Pulling the tight need within me to the surface.

“Let go,” he grunted, thrusting into me. “Let go.”

I shook.

“Why?” my mouth uttered without my control. “Why?”

My tears fell but he did not stop moving. The emotions between us were hot, a blanket over the room.

“Why?” I repeated.

He thrusted again, circling his thumb.

“There was no other way,” he whispered.

My head went back against the pillows while the pleasure of his movements took over.

“There was no other way, my Enaid ,” he whispered again, slamming into me with his release.

He shook against me and his fingers moved faster, forcing my own release without my control. My legs shook in my hands, and I bit my lip, holding in my cries.

Our breaths were the only sounds in the room when he finally pulled from me and laid at my side, pulling me against his chest.

I looked up, hoping to see anything through his shadows but I was blocked from him. Like all of those times before.

My hand rose to stroke his face and he gripped it, placing my palm on his right cheek. My gasp was quiet, but my startled jump shook the bed when I felt the wetness on his skin.

Tears.

“There was no other way,” he repeated, holding me tighter.

I remained quiet and unmoving until his arms went lax against me.

When his breaths had finally shifted to that deep sleeping sound I’d learned to recognize, I slipped from his grasp. The bed shifted with him turning to his side and I laid on my back, staring at the dark ceiling.

I had a choice. A choice I knew to be foolish. My eyes went to where I believed my cloak still hung on the back of the chair and I stood slowly.

My feet moved with apprehension with his darkness still wrapped around the space. I held my hands out, guiding the way until my toe hit the legs of the chair.

I reached down, grasping my cloak, pulling it toward me, reaching into the deep pockets.

My hand wrapped around it. The black candle and the piece of flint I’d grabbed before rushing out of my room in a mad dash. My fingers trembled as I lit the flint and quickly stuck it to the candle wick before Ulrich’s shadows could extinguish the flames.

To my shock the candle became bright. Red—just like those candles on the walls in hallway nine.

I turned to the bed, the light illuminating his figure before me and I froze.

What was I doing?

What was I starting?

I shuffled across the floor, my hands shaking until I was before him.

My gasp was quiet, almost a sob when I found his hair laid over his face, covering his features. It was startling, how he appeared as normal as a simple man in the bed. Sleeping off the high of our shared ecstasy.

I leaned forward, lifting his hair as softly as I could while tears fell from my eyes.

The emotions were overwhelming me as I stared down at him. Trying to map the lines of the face I had been forbidden to see for all this time. Trying to force my mind to remember every last detail.

Gods, he was beautiful.

His nose was sharp, his brow thick. Surprisingly, a scar ran down his face. From his right brow, right across his nose, to the end of his left cheek, disappearing into his beard. I admired it, realizing each and every one of his masks were fitting perfectly to disguise the scar. It was old by the color, but deep enough it had marked his face for eternity.

I held back my desire to stroke his cheek, not wanting to wake him from his peace. Instead, I sat on the floor, admiring him. Imagining that face with his eyes open and his emerald green gaze bright and alive, staring back at me.

I wondered what his cheeks looked like with the lift of his smile. Whether or not the skin around his eyes wrinkled with the movement.

My mind wandered.

Could I love him?

Did I want to?

He was a monster. A madman—always unpredictable. Always seeming to snap at a moment’s notice. Gods, he’d locked me in that dark room. Allowed the torment to torture my mind. He’d laid his hands on me countless times. He’d embarrassed me before his court. He’d encouraged me to commit murder.

My body was forever marked by his hand. Scars I would never be able to rid myself of. Reminders of his cruelty.

My heart ached while I considered the last eleven months. The hours of his brutality but also the hours of his softness. Even if it were subtle. Even if the creature that lurked within him usually took control.

I thought about those damned letters. For at least half of those long three years, he had been the one writing to me. It was halfway through the courtship when the lettering had changed. When the words were more elongated and appearing to come from a steady hand. And I, like a love-sick adolescent, chose to ignore the change. Not thinking twice on whether or not the words were being written by another’s hand.

Words that were not Leif’s, a fool I now realized who was as much of a pawn in the king’s game as I had been. No, it had been Ulrich.

I leaned back, staring at him. In his sleep he was peaceful. Still terrifying with the harsh features of a towering man, but he was beautiful. Someone I could see who had kindness in his heart. Someone that had written that kindness in ink, addressed only to me.

I stared until I could no longer keep my eyes open. Until I could barely believe I had seen the face of the beast.

Who I realized was the man who also held my heart.

I stood, leaning over him with the candle in my hand, kissing the scar at the top of his right brow.

“I love you, Urich,” I whispered. “I may also hate you and what you do.” My voice shook. “But Gods, I do love you.”

He smiled at my words and my heart cracked at the peace on his face.

I stood again then heat ran down my fingers and I jumped in pain as wax fell from the candle. Wax that had not melted since I’d lit it.

It hit his cheek and his eyes sprang open, staring into mine.

“What have you done?” he shouted, jumping to his feet. “What have you done?”

A shrill laugh filled the air, and I screamed out in shock. I stumbled, trying to get away from the rage—no fear, in Ulrich’s eyes. His hand reached for me, but it snapped back, grotesquely, unnaturally.

I let out another shocked shout, retreating further. My feet slipped on the wax, still falling from the candle, and my legs went out from under me. Causing me to slam my head into the wooden floor, knocking myself unconscious with the sound of an enraged roar guiding me into darkness.