Page 44 of Hunger in His Blood (Brides of the Kylorr #3)

CHAPTER 44

KALDUR

H er words were a gentle confession that twisted me up into knots.

I didn’t like that she’d felt alone most of her life either. But for the first time, I was glad for Luc. Glad for their friendship, that he had treated my mate with kindness and love. That he’d given her hope and encouraged her dreams.

Without him, there would be no her . What she was. Or her unwavering optimism and resilience, though I had caused both to lose a little of their shine. One I was determined to polish back to its full brilliance.

“In Laras,” she continued, a creeping of sadness in her tone, “I didn’t feel like myself. I felt defeated, and I hated it. I felt more alone than I have in years.”

“Erina,” I growled, that familiar restlessness making me vibrate.

“And I don’t blame you,” she said quickly, as if realizing how I’d take her words. To heart. “Leaving Vyaan was my choice. It was impulsive, yes, but I thought…I thought things would be different. I dreamed that things would be different, that I would be reunited with Luc and everything we ever imagined would come to fruition. The two orphans against the world,” she said, her lips twisting a little. In bitterness…and I hated to see it on her. “But just because I dreamed it, it didn’t mean it would be true. Not in the slightest. Laras helped to pull back a veil from my eyes. I struggle with…”

She made a sound in the back of her throat, one that was frustrated, as if she didn’t know how to express the words building in her throat.

“Try,” I murmured. “Tell me.”

“Everyone always told me to stop dreaming, to stop filling my head with silly ideas and face the reality of my existence. That I was an orphan, with no family. I wasn’t born into a noble House. Wrezaan tore up a bunch of my stories once, told me that he was doing me a favor.”

I growled. “He did what ?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I worked any job I could find after I left Wrezaan’s, until I was lucky enough to work for Syndras. Which led me here. And it wasn’t glamorous work, but I was…I was content with it. Because it allowed me the freedom to think up different places and worlds in my mind, which kept my ambitions for my stories alive. Wrezaan couldn’t take that from me. No one could. I was proud of that. But what Laras showed me was the truth, one I couldn’t escape, no matter how much I could dream differently. That I’m still an orphan. With no real family. With a fake name.”

“Then take mine.”

The words fell from me easily, though nothing was easy about listening to her speak this way.

Erina’s lips parted. “What?”

“Take my name, then,” I rasped. “Take my name that stretches back generations, the lineage our child will be born into.”

My kyrana stared at me in disbelief, but I’d never been more serious about anything.

“What you’re saying is true. Objectively,” I said gruffly. “You are an orphan because you never knew your parents. But you’re not alone and you have a family. In me, in our child, in Luc. In Syndras, who took you into her own home when you felt like you had none and tried to protect you, even from me. And you don’t have a fake name, Erina. You took a name that was meaningful to you, that made you feel not only connected to Luc, your chosen brother, but to your stories. And I think it’s one you should carry for the rest of your life.”

“Even above yours?” she asked.

“You could be Erina Denoren of House Kaalium,” I suggested quietly. The burn of need at the sound of that name nearly humbled me. “You don’t have to give anything up.”

We regarded one another closely, both of us seeming to hold our breath. I knew she wouldn’t give me an answer right now. But I would be patient.

“You don’t need to decide now,” I told her. I saw a burst of relief she couldn’t quite hide and felt the sharpness of disappointment spear through me. “It will always be yours if you choose to take it.”

Silence lapsed between us again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was speculative.

Then my mate’s breath hitched, wonderment entering her expression, a small smile following. She took my hand, placed it on her ever-growing belly.

I felt it then. A slight fluttering that could be mistaken for a heartbeat, only it was sporadic and came and went.

“She’s moving,” Erina said.

My throat went tight, disbelief and awe bursting in my mind. The first time I’d felt our child in her womb, and it was…indescribable.

We grinned at one another as morning light flooded the room, golden rays stretching across the floor. A special moment that eclipsed everything else.

When she finally stopped and I couldn’t feel any more movement, Erina sighed. Her brow was furrowed, and I could see her mind turning.

“I don’t want you to misunderstand me…or—or think that I’m sad about how this all turned out. It’s the opposite,” she said. “I think I needed Laras. My time there humbled me, and I think it was a blessing. I think I needed to face the cold sting of reality, to realize that not everything will be perfect just because I want it to be. That’s foolish. But…I also don’t want to lose who I used to be. I…I don’t think it’s a bad thing to romanticize life, to wonder about the endless possibilities, to hope for something more,” she finished.

And hearing that relieved me. I nearly closed my eyes with it.

“I don’t want you to lose that either,” I confessed. “Because I love that about you, Erina.”

She went shy with the words, this maddening female, trying to hide her smile which threatened to burst. “You do?”

Among many other things, I thought.

But I didn’t say that aloud. I didn’t want to scare her. I was working on being patient. For her.

Her gaze went back to the painting hanging on the wall.

“I worried I’d lost my inspiration to create,” she said softly. “But this morning, a scene struck me and it felt wonderful. And now this …”

She gestured around the room before she resettled her gaze on me.

“Thank you, Kaldur,” she said. “I can’t quite tell you what this means to me. But I’m not worried anymore. I can’t wait to get back to my stories. So, thank you.”

She leaned forward to press a kiss to my cheek. Right over my scar, which she now knew how I’d received.

“You’re welcome, dallia .”

The door opened to the studio, Maudoric humming as she entered. When she saw us sitting in the armchair, Erina sprawled over my lap, she looked as surprised as I’d ever seen her, stuttering for a moment.

“Oh, goodness—my apologies, Kyzaire ,” she said, already backing out of the room. “I should’ve?—”

I waved away her worries, especially when I saw what was in her hands. “I wanted to show her what we’ve been working on.”

Maudoric smiled hesitantly, inclining her head. “This was just delivered by a boy from the village.”

“Thank you,” I replied as I patted Erina, who stood. I followed and crossed to Maudoric, taking the ribboned box from her hands.

“Would you like breakfast brought here? Or out on the terrace?” Maudoric asked.

I looked to Erina, who said, “Here.” She beamed at the Head Keeper. “The light is beautiful in here.”

It pleased Maudoric, I realized. Erina’s happiness. “I’ll tell Saira,” Maudoric said, leaving the room swiftly, giving us privacy.

I brought the box over to the drafting table and gestured Erina over.

“Another gift?” she asked, biting her lip.

“The last one for today—I promise,” I teased gently. “Open it.”

Erina pulled at the silky black ribbon, and the box unfolded with dramatic flourish, the sides falling open. She gasped. Because inside was a familiar vase.

“I thought it was gone,” she breathed, reaching out a hand to touch it.

“Maudoric found it in the drawer. Luckily I caught her before she disposed of it,” I said. It was the vase I’d helped her clean up that day in the sitting room, the one she’d cut her hand on. The one that had been the cause of everything. She’d loved it, had wanted to repair it even though it’d been shattered.

The vase had been pieced back together and was filled with precious silver along the cracks. But otherwise the potter had been able to preserve the majority of it—the dark green that she’d so loved, the delicate vines.

“It is missing a big piece though,” I informed her, turning the vase to show her the back. “It’s a large shard. I couldn’t find it. So he kept it open.”

“I have it,” she admitted.

“You do?” I asked, laughing.

“I—I took it that morning I left. I don’t know…it was a silly impulse. I just wanted to take something. To remember,” she confessed, her cheeks flushing a little bit.

“Little thief,” I murmured softly, a burst of affection in my chest.

“It wasn’t the only thing I took from House Kaalium,” she joked, her hand touching her stomach, “as it turns out.”

“No, it wasn’t,” I said, watching when her eyes strayed to the vase again. “I was going to have one made in its exact likeness for you. But then I remembered what you told me.”

“Remind me.”

“Even if it’s a little broken, that doesn’t mean it can’t be beautiful again.”

Her exact words. Words I’d remembered.

Her breath whistled with her inhale as she stared up at me in surprise. I saw tears well, which she tried to blink away.

“You were right, dallia ,” I murmured. “I think it’s even more beautiful like this.”