Page 157 of Loreblood

I vaguely wondered if this new promiscuous side of me had not been borne from nothing, but rather from years of grief, pain, and misery, stretching all the way back to my childhood. For the first time, I wastakingwhat I wanted. These three men were merely obstacles I needed to fuck to suit my purposes and needs.

Staring blankly up at the tarp from my back, I formed a crooked smile and snorted. I knew it was much more than that—more than simple pleasures of the flesh.

Vallan, Garroway, and Skartovius were offering me things I’d never had before. Choice, freedom, and power. How could I turn those down, especially when they mingled in conjunction with each other so easily?

I had thechoiceto do as I pleased, go where I wanted, thefreedomto sleep with anyone willing, and thepowerto cause actual change in Olhavian and Nuhavian society if I played my cards right.

Up until this point in my young life, I had been betrayed at every turn. Whether human or vampire, I had learned not to trust anyone. My guard was always up.

These callous, monstrous men were starting to break my shield. I knew I couldn’t hold my breath and wait for things to work out. I had tobethe difference I wished to see, in order tomakethe difference.

Now, I understood that. I had fallen for my captors, steeled my heart, and wouldn’t let anything break it, no matter what happened with these three.

As I lay in a naked, sweaty pile on the ground, attempting to recover from our hours-long activities, I coiled myself around Vallan and rested my head against his chest.

Peace fell around us. My heart stopped hammering. The sounds of miners working filled the space outside the tent, bringing us back from our isolated sanctuary in the middle of this mining camp.

I placed the letter Antones had given me on his chest. “What can you tell me about the veracity of this note, Vallan?”

He let out a low grumble, which made me smile. Dipping his chin as he unfolded the paper, he read it slowly then grunted. “Is this important to you?”

“It is.”

“Then we bring it up with Skartovius. I have no information about this.”

“Very well.” I had to accept his response, ready to move on. Night was ending and I had so many questions to ask Vall before he slept away the day. I slid my head along his chest, running my fingers over the puffy scars and divots of his formidable body.

“You want to ask me something now I’m naked, vulnerable, and satiated,” he said, reading my mind better than I could.

I chuckled with a slight nod. “You told me how different you and Skartovius are. What . . . what makes you stay with him and Garroway?”

He took a long moment to respond. For a minute, I thought he wouldn’t answer at all. Then I realized he was gathering his thoughts. The vampire was more introspective and thoughtful than I’d realized.

“Skartovius Ashfen was born into nobility, silverblood. That did not change when he was turned. If anything, his ambition and need for power only grew. I was not born into any such thing, as I told you. In fact, I was born in the same city you were.”

I stifled a gasp. “You hail from Nuhav?”

His beard ran against my forehead as he nodded. “Once, I was a gutter-rat like you. A homeless beggar and thief. I conscripted in the Nuhavian Freestanding Army after adolescence. I became a soldier.”

“You have the build for it. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Is that where you learned to blow things up?”

His grunt sounded amused this time. “It is. There is a reason I have a middling position here at the silver mines and I’m not handling a court likeLord Ashfen.”

When he spit Skar’s title out, I winced. “You do not get along with the nobility,” I noted, feeling obtuse as the words left my mouth.

“Soldiering gave me purpose. Killing gave me purpose. It went away when I was captured during a far-off campaign and brought to Olhav.”

“Your trajectory sounds more and more like mine.”

“Indeed. I was held as a prisoner by vampires for years. Used for my brawn as a slave worker, and for pleasure by both women and men.”

I held back a growl, holding my breath. My heart hurt to hear the deadpan way he told his story, without emotion. I squeezedmy hand over his chest and whispered, “True be true, Vallan, I’m so sorry.”

Part of me wondered where his story was going and how it related to Skartovius and my question of why he stuck around with the nobleblood. If anything, this tale made me believe Vallan had every reason tohatevampires, despite being one himself.

“Do not feel badly for me, girl. My life was no harder than yours. Being a soldier-turned-slave taught me many things. Not all of them good. It also gave me resilience and tenacity.”

“So what made you . . . how you are now?”