Page 77 of Loreblood

I. . . must be rid of her.

There was also the chance my anger was misguided, fueling my thoughts in a false way—that I was completely off the mark.

Yet in my head, it sounded correct. Likely, even, given Lukain’s reticence and phantom attitude toward me lately, ever since our night in a room identical to this one.

Frowning, I walked to the large bed, pulling back the translucent veil. My fingers ghosted over the fluffy pillows and mattress. I recalled every torrid touch of my dhampir master on my skin that night. The way his fangs penetrated my soft flesh and sucked my blood. The intimate closeness of our bodies as his cock drove into me, bringing me pleasure I’d never known.

I winced, remembering a moment of pause and discomfort during our heavy coupling.Lukain, shortly after tasting my blood, his face contorting with a quick flash of something unexpected. Pain, perhaps? Or was that fear in his eyes?

I remembered asking him if something was wrong. He had promised me nothing was amiss, even managing to finish our scalding affair.

I had not remembered that moment until right now. It smoothly draped over the puzzle playing in my mind. It became an answer I hadn’t known to look for.

Making a fist, I sank my hand into the pillow. Madness was guiding me. Or logic. It couldn’t be both. After nearly two decades of people betraying me, I liked to think I knew the signs.

I wasn’t being paranoid. I was being pragmatic.

“Fuck this,” I growled to myself, and then spun to the window.

The glass slid aside, surprising me, welcoming a stiff breeze against my face.

I peeked up and down. A ledge rested above me, and then sheer wall. Vines and tiered layers of the mansion would make for easy handholds. Below, a drop of nearly thirty feet into darkness. Easily deadly if I missed a step.

Throwing my caution aside, I stepped out onto the windowsill, gripped my strong fingers around the lip of the ledge, and climbed out the window.

Ten minutes later, I’d made progress. I refused to look down or wait for long, urging my body to carry me across the mansion’s edifice.

The wind was stronger up here, cutting against my neck and ears as I kept my body pushed close to the wall.

I intuitively knew where my hands were leading me as I scaled the wall. The view from my recovery room, the angle of the moon that night, it had been on the third floor of the mansion.

I stepped onto a cranny separating the second and third roofs of the manse, catching my breath. Then I continued on, hoisting my heavy body up the wall until a window came into view just above my head.

Finally taking a glance over my shoulder, I frowned at the position of the moon. It seemed wrong—this window did not lead to the room where I had stayed.

I reached far to the right for a crevice of stone to grab onto, so I could pull my legs that way and scale the wall in a new direction—

A voice from the room past the window stopped me.

“P-Please, sir. Give me another c-chance. I got turned around by her. I’ll bring her back to the light, Dim.”

My throat constricted. It was Baylen’s voice, crooning, tired, raspy.“Dim.” Dimmon Plank.

What in all the True gods ishedoing here?

“I don’t know, Baylo. I just don’t know.”

Dimmon’s voice was lower than I’d ever heard.

The man first on my list.

My fingers fumbled for the latch of the window, provoking me before my mind could stop and consider the possibilities.

My recklessness almost sent me tumbling to my death, and I kicked at air for purchase. The door to the room opened and creaked closed, and I cursed under my breath.

I stayed put for a moment, listening. The room had fallen silent. Baylen was alone.

My fingers were getting tired of holding me on this ledge. I had mere moments before I needed to rest, and nowhere to go . . .