Page 23 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

Chapter 23

Cirri

H e was the line between pleasure and pain—first there was the pleasure, the sense of being cradled like spun glass by a creature who could so easily destroy me. The scent of him, so familiar and yet still so exciting and new. The soft, warm velvet of his skin over the hard, brutal lines of a fiend’s warped body.

And then there was the pain, accompanied by a frisson of fear.

The sharp, hungry stab of needles in my throat. The first piercing of the skin, my nerves alight with fire and ice, the prick of his claws against my hips, pulling me closer. The shiver of vulnerability creeping down my spine.

And then the pain melted back into pleasure, a seamless transition between the two.

Because I trusted him, completely and without reservation, and once I’d accepted that Bane would never deliberately harm me, it was easier to submit to his hunger and power. What once filled me with horror now seemed a simple thing: to feed him, to become his, to let my blood fill his veins.

Crushed against him, letting the syrupy haze of the venom spread through my body and fill me with warm, lethargic delight, I wondered why I had been so afraid.

Because this was Bane, and he would never hurt me. He loved me enough to learn my language.

The warm trickle of blood crept down my neck, spilling into the hollow above my clavicle; Bane’s forked tongue lapped it away, his lips caressing my flesh in a way that raised goosebumps all over my body.

Even in the haze, I felt that I sat astride a titan, entirely at his whim and mercy, and it became too much effort to hold my head up. I let it fall back, the sensation of floating overtaking my loose limbs as heat flooded the rest of me.

Things seemed more clear as I floated, the rush of blood becoming a pale background sensation. I wanted him, and I wanted to love him, and I wanted him to love me. It was so simple. Not too much to ask for. Why waste my life prevaricating on the ifs and buts when it was all so obvious?

I laced my hands around his neck, the ridges of his spine hard under my fingers, and pushed myself more fully into him as he took another deep draught from my throat, pain and pleasure intertwining so deeply I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. The pinch of his teeth, the dizzying feeling of my blood being drawn out—it drew a gasp from me, and if I’d had a voice, I would have whispered yes, more, take more and take me.

If he was mine, and I wanted him, then I wanted all of him. He couldn’t hide his own intense lust; his cock throbbed against my core, nothing but our clothes in the way.

Why not get rid of them? So simple. So obvious.

My arms felt like they were moving through molasses, distanced from my body as I raised my hands to Bane’s shirt. From somewhere far away I realized I was just fumbling at the buttons—my fingers didn’t quite want to work the way I wanted them to.

Bane growled low in his throat, the rumble of it reverberating in my chest. He ran his tongue over my pierced neck in a slow, smooth stroke, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with apprehension.

“What are you doing, sweet one?” he asked softly.

I temporarily abandoned the buttons as I told him, I’m taking your clothes off. I want all of you.

Were my words right? I had no real idea; my mind had focused entirely on the simmer of pain in my throat, the floating sweetness in my veins, and the fact that I wanted these damn clothes to vanish so I didn’t have to think about buttons or how they worked.

Bane’s throaty chuckle, more thunder than laughter, sent another thrill of heat through me. My breasts had tightened enough to ache under his touch; the gown I wore was a severe impediment to feeling those warm, deadly hands on my flesh.

This was not a chuckling matter, not in the slightest.

I arched my hips forward, grinding myself against the iron rod between my legs, gasping again against his bloodied lips as pleasure zipped through me—even with these pointless clothes in the way, he was thick enough to ride against, my clit humming with need.

This time he didn’t laugh. He snarled, hands tightening on my hips to jerk me against him, his own hips bucking upwards. He was pulsing, so hard it had to be painful, the tingle in my pussy becoming a hot wave in my core.

“I can’t, Cirri,” he groaned, holding me in place. “I can’t hurt you.”

You won’t hurt me , I told him, panting as I fought off the edge. By the Light, there would be no pain; I was already soaked, writhing with need against him. Didn’t he see that it would hurt more to deny this?

Bane’s bright amber eyes were like a cat’s eyes in the darkness; gleaming and predatory, his hungry gaze wandering from my face to my bloody throat, down further to my pebbled nipples and everything hidden beneath the gown.

He exhaled, hands quivering. In some distant part of my mind I felt his claws and fingertips; they’d cut right through the cloth, shredding the gown. Good riddance to it.

But he made no effort to remove his own clothes. Instead, he gripped me around the waist, nuzzling against my neck, his tongue flicking out before his teeth pierced me again, white-hot and bright pain.

As he drank, he splayed his hand on my lower back and pushed in, forcing me to ride against him.

I couldn’t hold back the breathy gasps and silent moans, the only sounds I could make, as my clit rubbed against him with delicious friction. I gripped one of his twisted horns, giving myself leverage, and dug the nails of my other hand into the velvet skin of his back.

Bane groaned, sucking harder, pulling deeper, the heat of his cock tangible as it twitched under my increasingly erratic thrusts.

His lips came free with a pop, his breath warm on my neck. “Gods, ancestors… fuck .”

Hearing that word snarled in his deep voice as he strained against me was too much. I was already on the edge, the wet lave of his tongue over his bite not just tipping me, but hurling me over into a mind-shattering orgasm.

He held me tight as I shivered, coming to pieces in his arms, gasping against his shoulder. All I could do was hold on as the flood of pleasure tore through me.

As the languor sank into me, my whole body slumping against him while I panted for breath, I still felt the throbbing hardness of him. I wanted to fix that, to give him what he’d given me…

But Bane tipped my head to the side, that forked satin tongue once more swirling over my wounds.

Why? I asked, feeling like bricks were tied to my hands. Everything was so heavy. Why can’t I do this for you?

Deep inside, buried beneath the venom haze and the soft glow of release, there was a tiny seed of fear… but not for his fangs.

Maybe he didn’t find me sexually appealing. He was free with compliments, and he clearly enjoyed my blood, but maybe it was just a matter of not having had a woman in some time. Maybe any warm body would have this effect on him.

I tried to stomp on the seed, but it refused to die.

Maybe he didn’t want to do this with someone he’d been forced to marry. I was not someone he’d chosen from the heart, but a consolation prize after Antonetta’s death.

Bane held me against him, his palm pressed over my slowing heart.

“I want you more than I can say,” he whispered. “More than you know. But you see that I am not like most men. My entire body is warped.”

I don’t give a damn , I tried to sign, but my hands wavered.

“If you keep doing this, I don’t think I can stop myself.” He let out one of those low laughs, the faintest tinge of bitterness to it. “But I meant what I said. I don’t want to hurt you. This will take time… not only for my own shame, that I’m no longer a man in the sense you understand, but because I don’t want to tear you apart.”

I managed to raise my heavy head from his shoulder, gazing into those brilliant gold eyes. My hand cupped his cheek, though I didn’t remember moving it there.

At least the seed of fear had withered once more.

There’s more than one way to do this , I told him, or tried to tell him. It doesn’t have to hurt. And you should feel no shame. You are what you are, and what you are is beautiful.

The floating sensation returned as Bane lifted me fully onto the bed, curling around me. His enormous arm encircled me, hand still over my chest.

“Sleep, my lady, precious one.” His deep voice sounded miles distant, echoing over empty lands. “There’s time to worry about this later.”

No , I wanted to say, I want to figure this out now, before you decide you don’t want me , but the haze was too strong. I was floating in warmth, anchored only by Bane.

My mind followed my body into darkness.

I woke slowly, my limbs stretched out and loose, once more well-rested thanks to the venom haze and the release he’d given me.

And Bane was once more absent, the divot in the nest of blankets empty. I stretched out a hand; the linens still had a tinge of warmth. He’d left in the last hour, before the sun rose.

Despite that, I smiled; now I knew that this entire time, he’d been waking up early just to learn the priests’ tongue, for no other reason than to understand me.

For the thousandth time, I asked myself what I’d done to deserve this life, and came up without an answer.

But if he was doing that for me, then I would get on with the work I could do for him.

I dragged myself out of bed and dressed, intending to wash and dress in the Tower of Spring, which I’d hardly seen in the last week except to perform the necessary ablutions. I briefly wondered about asking Bane if I could simply use the bath in this tower, and keep my clothes in the wardrobes here, but… if he wasn’t ready to have actual sex with me, then he likely still wanted his own space. Somewhere to escape me.

Although things usually looked better in daylight, today that fear was harder to crush. Twice now he’d given me physical pleasure and taken none for himself. He could talk of not wanting to hurt me, but still…

I pinned that thought in place for later and fled to the Tower of Spring.

Both of my golems were waiting, Thorn staring out the window, Rose poking about in the dresser. I blinked as I passed; she’d organized the jewelry boxes strewn about the surface, by type and then by stone; who needed six pairs of emerald earrings, or thirty-two jeweled hair sticks?

The rose-petal golem straightened, her arms full of cloth, and immediately pointed to the bath.

If you insist , I told her, depositing my journal on my hardly-used desk. Strangely, perhaps because they weren’t human, it was easier to accept help from her, whether or not it was something I could do myself.

Or perhaps it was because there was no lurking sense of judgment. I knew Ellena would have been furious to have to wash my hair; even though Yuli and Lissa had shown nothing but curiosity, I still didn’t like the idea of them discovering I’d once been an indentured servant myself. It felt too much like placing myself on a pedestal, lording it above them when I had no right.

But Rose… she was effeminate to the core, fascinated by the piles of jewelry, the dresses, the shoes. The first time she’d forced me to bathe under her auspices, it’d been clear she truly enjoyed the entire process, down to picking out soaps and creams that matched in scent.

So I submitted to her soft, careful hands.

Rose, like me , she said, showing me the soap she was using on my hair. She scrubbed it into my scalp and I let my eyes close.

I could do that now, unafraid that Ellena would attempt some petty hurt on me. She wouldn’t dare, not with Thorn in here. He patrolled the room, window to door, occasionally climbing up the stairs.

Bane hadn’t confirmed it—he’d told me they were to be my friends, servants I could trust—but I suspected he hadn’t believed my pale lie about the knot in my hair.

To be fair, I wasn’t much of a liar. But I couldn’t prevent the odd mix of satisfaction and guilt when I heard that Ellena had been permanently removed from my quarters, and was working in the stableyard.

On the other hand, it was ridiculous to feel guilty. I hadn’t assigned her to this task; I’d tried to make her life easier, telling her to leave me be. If she hadn’t left a bruise, she wouldn’t be shoveling horse shit now.

Rose’s hands never bruised. She dried me, combed out my hair and pinned the plaited braids into a crown around my head, and then laced me into a dark blue gown. I’d quickly come to discover that I had zero opinions in these matters as far as she was concerned; the sapphire ear-drops matched the dress, the shoes were polished leather boots, and she presented me in the mirror with a whimsical twirl of her hands.

Beautiful , I said to her, and she preened.

The golems were like children, in a way; any word of kindness from me and they just about melted into a puddle. Which was why I couldn’t say no to Rose, despite my obstinance in doing it all myself—disappointing her would be like kicking a puppy.

With my journal bag draped over my shoulder, I made my way to the library, the golems at my sides. On this gloomy day the candles were already replaced and lit, the books already prepared thanks to Rose’s organizing tendencies—and there was a note left on the table for me.

No, two notes; I sat down and shuffled them apart, reading the topmost one in Bane’s writing first.

Her name is Cirri

And she is pretty

Like a rose

Which everyone knows

In the chest of a fiend

She makes the heart glow

I stared at it for a long, long minute, taking it all in. There was a little postscript at the end: I lied, it seems I am no poet. The teenage boy has me beaten. But, to my credit, every word is true.

Then I clutched the poem Bane had written me to my chest and silently squealed, my cheeks heating up with sheer pleasure.

My very first love poem, and I didn’t give a damn what he thought, or if someone else would laugh at it; it was mine, from him, and that made it the best thing I had ever read in my life.

I read it again, biting my lower lip to stop the huge idiot grin from spreading across my face. Then I folded it very carefully, torn in indecision; I wanted to tuck it into my journal alongside the tiny rosebud I’d pressed flat, but there was always a chance something could happen to the journal, even if I guarded it with my life.

I settled for tucking it within my stays, right over my heart; the tight lacing would keep it in place until I could find something more secure. I couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from it.

With the smile still in place, my hand pressed over my heart as though to push the poem into myself, I picked up the second note.

I apologize for interrupting your work, dear Cirrien—I know the agonies of being forced away from matters of importance.

Your presence will be required today. Please meet me in the ballroom.

Yours, Wyn

Normally I would be in agony at having to set aside the Red Epoch books for the day, but I was still glowing from Bane’s poem, and it didn’t bother me so much to leave the library.

It took me less time than I’d expected to find the ballroom, where we’d held the silly little party after our wedding vows. I couldn’t say my memories of it were fond; mostly I remembered the skeptical looks and wavering smiles.

And I expected it to be mostly empty, not draped with scarlet banners and silk hangings. Wyn stood in the middle of it all, clutching a sheaf of papers and watching the keep servants affix veils to the marble columns so that they floated down like sheer wisps of blood.

“There you are,” she said, keeping one eye on the decorations. “So. I know that humans celebrate Bloodrain, yes?”

I nodded, my brain slow to catch up. It was a holiday to celebrate the downfall of the Red Epoch, the death of our vampire overlords and the freedom of humanity. Every year the children would knock on doors and receive pieces of red, sweet-salty candy, and a bonfire would be built up—over which an effigy of Liliach Daromir, made of meat, would be roasted and shared out to the revelers. The humans symbolically consuming vampire flesh, as they had consumed us.

Which was a little macabre, now that I thought about it from the perspective of my husband’s people.

“So do we.” Wyn turned to grin at me as I pulled my journal out. “Although for very different reasons.”

Have you ever been to a human Bloodrain celebration? I asked.

“Indeed. It was positively barbaric. Which is why you’re here—Bloodrain is next week. We host it every year, so the human nobility can gorge themselves on our food and stores of wine. It keeps them sweet and docile.”

I blinked. Where had the time gone? I had never celebrated Bloodrain with any great enthusiasm back in Argent, so it wasn’t particularly ingrained in my mental calendar, but still… it seemed to have come out of nowhere. I’d lost all track of time in my studies.

“We’re receiving guests who are coming to celebrate with us.” Wyn frowned at her notes. “Lady Auré fel Seren. A very powerful vampire, and a very good friend of the fiends. She’s been acting as an advisor and intermediary for Lord Wroth, in Owlhorn Keep, but she’s offered to carry messages and remain for the holiday. I want you by Lord Bane’s side, visible to the public at all times, while she and her retinue are in residence and the celebrations are ongoing. Your visible happiness is of utmost importance; she’s always had their ears, and her opinions carry weight with them.”

I tipped my head, wondering why that was so important—they’d shown me to the human nobility for very brief spans of time. I’d been a figurehead then, a breathing statue fulfilling the purpose of the Blood Accords.

But the last time I’d spoken to Wyn… she’d made it clear that if things didn’t change, she would have offered to Bane to remove me for all other purposes, allowing him to find a lover of his own kind. Her aside about this Auré’s opinions felt rather pointed.

A chill crept over me as I stood there, pen poised over the journal. I didn’t want to ask the question. I didn’t want to commit that fear to paper, as though ink might make it true.

And Bane still didn’t want to fully consummate this marriage…

Wyn tipped her head, and as though she read my mind—perhaps she did, there was no telling what a bloodwitch could do—she softly said, “Yes. She was the one I had in mind, should things not proceed as desired. But, my dear Cirrien, we don’t have to worry about that now, do we?”

Her eyes lingered on the fresh new marks on my throat.

So this vampire, this Auré fel Seren, had once been considered as a lover for my husband. Did that mean he’d returned her regard? The base physical attraction?

I touched the folded poem against my heart, and forced myself to take a breath and calm my spinning thoughts.

He didn't want sex because he feared he’d hurt me. It wasn’t because he didn’t find me attractive, or was disgusted by me in some way. The Light knew his thirst, his hardness, gave the lie to that.

Maybe it was because my advances had been rejected only last night, and my feelings were still sore, but this fear found fertile soil. I hated this Auré already, sight unseen.

Let’s not act like a silly, melodramatic little girl , I told myself, caressing the poem. There was no reason yet to hate a woman I’d never met.

Bane had reasons for what he did. This vampire had nothing to do with it. I wouldn’t allow myself to behave like a jealous, angry harpy for no reason.

But sometimes I wished Wyn would lie to me, keep me in the dark, if only for my peace of mind. I didn’t need to know that this woman might have been his lover if life had taken a different path.

So… the reasons you celebrate this holiday? I wrote instead. It has a different meaning to you?

“Yes. Your kind celebrates Bloodrain to rejoice in our deaths—the rain of blood that showered upon the stones when humans rose up against their masters.” Wyn looked up as the servants began working on the next drapery. “All very well and good, the ancestors know we can’t say Liliach and her kin didn’t deserve it, but it has roots in a much deeper tradition. Humans took that tradition and warped it, as victors will do. For the rest of us, Bloodrain is not only a reflection on the folly of that era, but a celebration of Mother Blood giving us life. It is a time of gratitude for our rebirths, our very existence.”

I nodded, following her as she strode across the wide room. A team of several servants were unrolling crimson carpets; Wyn directed them via diagrams she’d drawn.

“Now,” she said, turning back to me when they’d been dispatched. “It’s a very simple holiday at heart. We’re not going to be building fires and roasting those primitive effigies to eat like savages. There will be a ball, of course, but you must know that the blood will be flowing here. Those humans who choose to slake us will be doing so openly. Can you handle that?”

I didn’t have to think before nodding. Of course I could. Bane had pierced my throat, and now I understood—it was an ecstatic experience, incomparable to any other physical sensation.

“Good. I thought so, now that you and Bane have settled your differences.”

I smiled humorlessly behind her back as she walked; not all of them were settled.

I followed her as she made preparations, feeling a bit like a pointless third wheel; she had the decorations and hospitality planned to within an inch of its life. No guest would leave unhappy.

But as she moved about, darting from task to task with the single-minded purpose of a honeybee, she told me of the past Bloodrain celebrations, including the masque they held in their first year of rule that had ended with a warg crashing through the stained-glass window, only to be decapitated by Bane with a single blow.

“But that was when we were still new to Ravenscry, the legions still untrained, and the Rift scouts not quite so well-prepared.” She sniffed as she looked over massive vases, brimming with roses. “It will be a lovely time, Cirrien. I may even have that horrendous wedding dress the Sisters put you in re-tailored for the occasion. We’re opposites in that regard—we wear white for weddings, and red for Bloodrain.”

You had it thrown in a furnace , I wrote.

“Oh. The waste of it—now I have to commission another gown. What was I thinking?” she asked, looking revolted at herself.

Visca spoke from behind us, sounding amused. “You were probably hungry and stressed, love. Also, it stank of rowan, so really it wasn’t that great a loss.”

We both turned to look at the keep commander, incongruous in her leather-and-iron armor in the middle of the decadent ballroom, but it was the woman behind her that caught the eye.

With the sensation of my stomach plummeting to somewhere around my toes, I recognized Auré fel Seren on sight, because… who else could she possibly be?

The vampire was all curves, her face almost too beautiful to look at directly. She wore violet silk that hugged the smooth, full lines of her body, and a torrent of deep chestnut waves poured down her back. Eyes the exact shade of spring columbines gazed back at me evenly, her perfect lips stretched in a smile.

“Cirrien lai Darran, Lady of the Rift, bride of the Skinner of Wolves,” Visca said cheerily, gesturing at me.

Auré bowed as Visca made her introduction to me, not that I needed it. The vampire was still smiling as she rose upright, graceful as a willow tree.

I swallowed the sick feeling in my throat as I signed to her. Welcome, my lady.

It’s the greatest pleasure to finally meet you , she signed back, and I was torn between delight and dismay.

I’d always felt at peace with myself, never craving any more beauty, grace, or talent than what I’d been born with, but Auré made me feel like I’d been pulled from a cesspit in Argent and dragged backwards through every hedge in Veladar.

“You two should get along, right?” Visca asked, slipping an arm around Wyn’s waist and avoiding flailing hands full of lists as she planted a kiss on her cheek. “Bane is coming this way, no need to fear, love.”

“Any day now,” Wyn snapped, but the tension in her shoulders melted away under Visca’s touch.

I was left staring back at Auré, whose smile grew decidedly cooler once we were no longer being stared at by the bloodwitch and commander.

“Have my people made you welcome?” she asked, with the slightest emphasis on ‘ my ’—staking her claim, making it clear that I was the outsider here, while she belonged.

Like I was their own , I said, keeping my smile in place with some effort. It was clear to me that I was outmatched. I didn’t have the mind or the training for court double-speak, the polite lies the nobles told each other, compliments while stabbing each other in the back.

“Lovely,” she said, those violet eyes full of cold calculation. “And Lord Bane? How goes it between the two of you? Has he drunk from you yet and upheld the vows?”

How very forward of you to ask . I kept my movements sharp and abrupt, denoting my tone. It was, in fact, a relief to speak sharply to someone and have no aspect of my speech lost on them. I would invite you into my bedroom to take a look for yourself, but I’m not fond of voyeurs or those who can’t mind their own business.

Auré tipped her head to the side, that icy appraisal giving way to something else, but the tap of claws on marble met my ears.

Thank the Light, he’d save me from this vampire and her prying questions.

But her chilly demeanor fell away instantly, replaced with warmth and affection as she turned to face Bane. Her columbine eyes glittered as she took him in. “Lord Bane the Lifegiver. What a relief to see you well.”

There was none of the horror of him I saw in human faces, only admiration and pride. The vampires really did see him as a hero.

“You as well, Lady Auré. It’s been a long time since your last visit.” He bowed to her, all noble courtesy.

“I have a real treat for you,” Auré said, smiling up at him. “Lord Wroth is coming, as well. He wishes to speak with you.”

Wyn whirled around, her eyes wide. “ What? ” Visca sighed as her wife began scrambling through the stack of lists. “Why wasn’t I informed of this? Get the steward over here, we need to reassess the seating arrangements.”

But I couldn’t bring myself to care about Wyn’s carefully-laid plans. My stomach felt like it was trying to tie itself into a knot now, especially when Auré offered her hand to Bane, and he bowed over it, his lips only inches from her skin.

It was the first real jealousy I’d ever experienced, and I loathed it. She was beautiful, and courtly in a way I wasn’t, and most of all, she was a vampire. His kind. She would understand him in ways I couldn’t.

I rather thought I wanted to go off and privately be sick, which was ludicrous, because… I had nothing to fear, right?

Nothing at all. He could bow over her hand and greet her because he drank my blood, he slept curled around me, and he wrote me poems that made me want to giggle and blush like a girl. Everything would be fine. Perfectly all right.

I swallowed the nausea as Bane released her hand and strode to me, taking me in his arms.

“My lady, how I’ve missed you,” he murmured, for my ears only. His eyes were bright today, skin gleaming with health; I could see the difference in him now, the starvation Wyn had spoken of. He was sleek and vibrant, a predator at full power.

I touched the note tucked in my dress, smiling up at him as I slowly signed. You write the finest poetry I’ve had the pleasure of reading.

He rubbed his snout, looking away. “I do believe I’ve fulfilled the requirements of my promise to embarrass myself before you. As it turns out, I’m no poet. Rhyming is… a struggle.”

No , I told him. It made me happier than you could ever imagine.

Bane smiled tentatively, then took my hand and pressed it to his cheek. He turned his head, his warm lips pressing against my palm in a kiss.

He’d come to me. I saw him, and he heard me.

Everything would have to be all right.