Page 111 of Loreblood

I snorted a laugh.

“What does that say about this temple of yours if a dhampir is not burning in fiery hells when I step past the front door?” he asked sarcastically.

“It says they’re not as holy as they claim to be.” I gave him a smug smile of my own. Every human had learned from a young age the best place to avoid a vampire attack was in the holy houses, because they would burn from the Truehearts’ divine fire.

Now all that went out the window—complete horseshit, it turned out. More stories to scare children and make sure they attended Seventh Day mass.

Father Cullard used to take me and my Housemates from the House of the Broken to this very temple. It seemed so huge and awe-inspiring then, as a child. Now, the Temple of the True was little more than an elegant, ostentatious building in my eyes. It held no power despite everything the vowagers and priests tried to make us believe. The smallest vampire dwellings in Olhav were grander than this cathedral to my people’s faith.

Garroway leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling. He winced and hardly moved. I could only imagine how great his pain was. “We h-have to get going soon,” he muttered. “Won’t stay safe in here for long. Especially if the militia comes looking for us.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Can you walk?”

His head shook. “Not yet. Soon.”

My eyebrows lifted to my forehead.

“Vampires heal quickly,” he said. “Grayskins . . . less so. Still faster than humans. I have a few broken bones, I think. Nothing a few days’ rest won’t regenerate.”

“We don’t have a few days. A priest ran off, probably to go find the Bronzes. We don’t have long, Garro.”

His eyes met mine. I was shocked there was still mirth pooling there despite being gravely wounded and putting on a façade of strength and resilience.

“I enjoy when you call me that,” he admitted.

My throat was dry when I swallowed over a lump. I didn’t look away though. I wasn’t scared. Not this time.

Garroway had saved us both. He had done that multiple times now—first in the alley when I met him as a whelp, then in the pit at Manor Marquin when he could have killed me, and again at the manor when I was going to foolishly charge into the fray to try and save Lukain from his fate.

Now this. We had fought valiantly together but it had felt futile. I’d thought he held onto the fifth firebomb out of greed. Now I understood the man had ulterior motives more altruistic and practical.Protection.

That’s what this man represented. Born into a life of vampirism or not, Garroway Kuffich was a protector at heart. For some reason, he had chosenmeas his charge.

“. . . ‘Nothing will heal your injuries faster than the blood of a vampire.’” The words poured from my lips.

Garroway tilted his head. “What’s that, lass?”

“Something Master Lukain told me.”

“You are not a vampire or even a dhampir.”

“No,” I said, and then lifted my bloody wrist—bloody from Garroway’s wounds, not mine. “I’m something different entirely, according to Skar. Somethingmore.”

A shadow chased across his features. “What you’re saying sounds dangerous, Sephania.”

“It might be the only way we get you back on your feet in time.” Gently, I smeared his blood away from my wrist. I presented him with my arm, close to his face where he could see my veins calling to him.

Hunger developed in his eyes the longer he stared at my pale flesh. He became entranced by the prospect of feeding on me. His voice was little more than a croak and he gulped loudly. “Sephania . . .”

“Just be careful.” When he looked at me in confusion, I bowed my head. “Lukainchangedafter he drank my blood. I don’t know what to expect. Only that it will heal you swiftly.”

Garroway pressed his hand behind my arm, bringing my wrist to his lips. He glanced over at me with a helpless, hungry expression. “You’re certain?”

I nodded decisively. “Do it.”

His lip twitched. He bared his fangs. The pointed teeth shimmered in the glow of the temple’s chandelier.

When his teeth pierced my flesh, a rush of sensations roared through me. It felt like an innocent kiss at first—warm, tempting—before expanding with a slight tug of pain that quickly melded into unimaginable pleasure.