Page 118 of Loreblood

A leash.

My eyes bulged. “You can’t expect me to wear that.”

His smile was dark, intense. “If we’re going out in Olhav together, we must keep up appearances, love.”

My head shook violently. “I refuse. I won’t put on a collar and leash, Skartovius.”

“I could make you.” He spoke the words matter-of-factly, not with any vitriol behind them.

I gritted my teeth. “You said you would never attempt to steal my agency, my independence. My tenacity is what you enjoyed about me.”

“Among other things, it is.” With a sigh, he lowered his arm. “It was worth a try.”

I blinked.

“Come, little temptress, let us be away.” He motioned for me, tossing the leash and collar to the corner of the room with a clank.

My eyes lingered on the apparatus for a moment before I scurried behind him. I suppressed a shiver, remembering how many times in my life I’d been chained and caged.

Garroway knew about my shackled past now. Skartovius only knew inklings, or what he could deduce from reading Garro’s mind. He would need to learn the impact something of this nature—leashing me around Olhav like a slave hound—had on me.

At the door, Skar put an arm over my shoulder and neck. He held me close in a way that made me feel wanted but possessed. More goosebumps broke out along my arms and nape. “I will not steal your freedom as others have . . .” he began, trailing off.

“Thank you.”

His smile turned somehow darker. “. . . No, you will abdicate and submit to me all on your own, little temptress, when the time is right.”

Chapter 37

Unlike with Garroway, we did not skirt the fringes of the city to make our way around Olhav. I suspected a half-vampire like Garro was not allowed complete freedom to waltz through the city proper.

With Lord Ashfen, we staked through the heart of the ancient metropolis. My eyes kept jumping at the astounding buildings and residents I saw.

Once we exited the comparably mundane district where the safehouse was located, everywhere I looked were enormous buildings built vertically. Stained glass glinted from reflections of eerie firelights raised high on poles. The skyrises stretched five, ten, even twenty stories, nearly punching into the clouds.

Combined with the colorful windows and lights, a cornucopia of emerald, sapphire, and ruby hues danced above us in the sky. I quickly lost my sense of direction from the overwhelming, suffocating closeness of the tall buildings.

The streets were smooth stone rather than rough cobbles I was used to. They looked to be hewn from alabaster marble in some places and sleek obsidian in others. It created a checkered walkway that dizzied me.

Skartovius glided across the streets like he owned them. He walked gracefully, his cloak behind him remaining still from his measured gait, while I stumbled along like an ape, entranced by the sights. My eyes bulged at every cross-street when a new, larger structure popped up out of nowhere.

The people we ran across were no less decadent than the mountain city they called home. Pale-skinned, one and all.Dressed in fineries of lace, silk gowns for the women, with ostentatious hair stylings. The men wore pressed tunics and form-hugging suits.

Unlike the packed, stifling streets of Nuhav, we could go entire blocks without seeing anyone. It was an eerie contrast, likening this place to a ghost town.

When we did cross an errant vampire or a small group of them, invariably I would see a bloodsucker glance over and sniff the air. At first I thought everyone here just had the sniffles from the stiff mountain breeze.

“It’s your scent,” Skartovius explained when I made a confused face after the third time it happened.

“My scent? Do I smell bad?” I resisted the urge to lift my arms and check.

“I daresay you smell enchanting, little temptress. In fact, I know you do. It is your human blood they smell, not your body.”

My neck went hollow.Every bastard here is hungry to feast on me.

He noticed my reticence and gave me a dark smile. Lowering his voice, he said, “Your unique blood, I suspect, is doubly mesmerizing to the commons.”

Skartovius’ hand fell on the small of my back, his touch effortless and light. It did nothing to stop the stiffness of my gait. He stayed alarmingly close, never stepping more than two feet away from me, matching my stride note for note.