Page 28

Sylvanna

I must have drifted off at some point—Alaric refused to put me down, even to rest and eventually my weariness overcame me. When I open my eyes, I see that we’re at my tower—home again. I ask again to be put down, but again he refuses.

“You still look weak,” he says as he pushes open the door. “I need to take care of you, Mistress.”

“Really, you don’t. I feel fine, Alaric!” I protest, but he carries me up the long spiral stairs anyway, though he must be tired from holding me for so long.

I have a new appreciation of my Paladin’s strength—as I’ve said before, I’m on the curvy side and not exactly light.

But he never falters once and refuses to put me down until we reach the bed chamber.

Then he places me carefully on the bed and goes into the bathing chamber.

After a moment, I hear the water running in my tub.

I taught Alaric the basic cantrips which he can use to open doors and turn on and heat the water just a few days into his time with me. Now I’m glad I did.

When he comes out of the bathing room, he’s stripped to the waist and still looking grim.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he begins to undress me.

“Going to bathe you and get you cleaned up,” he growls. “You’re dirty, Mistress.”

I look down at myself and see that it’s true. My dress is probably ruined—the delicate lace at the front is torn and stained. This gown wasn’t meant to be knelt in—especially not on a dirt floor.

Alaric pulls off my dress without his usual careful attention to detail.

In fact, he’s almost rough with me as he scoops me up, naked, and brings me into the bath.

He puts me in the deep, recessed tub but doesn’t come in with me.

Instead, he reaches for the bathing sponge and a bottle of my cleansing soap and pours some out.

Then he kneels beside the lip of the tub, takes one of my arms and begins to scrub me—vigorously—almost harshly .

“Ouch! What are you doing?” I exclaim, pulling my arm away—it was beginning to get red from his scrubbing!

“Cleaning you, Mistress.” He speaks through gritted teeth and I can feel the Holy Fire inside him rising with his anger.

“Cleaning me? I didn’t get that dirty!” I protest.

“Yes, you did—dirty inside and out,” he growls, reaching for my arm again.

“How in the world would I get dirty inside?” I counter, avoiding his grasp.

“By drinking that fucking peasant’s blood!” he snaps and now I see the anger flaring in his eyes. In fact, I see flames glowing and flickering in his blue gaze—I’ve never seen him this upset before. Not even when I first captured him and stripped him with my Shadows. What is happening here?

“You’re angry because I took blood from the peasant in payment for saving his son?” I ask.

“I’m angry because you took blood from another man!” he growls. “Because you allowed someone else to nourish you—to give you what you needed! Fuck, Sylvanna— I’m your Blood-servant! Why would you drink from someone else? Especially right in fucking front of me?”

I see the problem now—the reason he’s being so surly—but it’s not a difficulty I expected to encounter.

“You’re my Blood-servant, yes, but that’s just a title,” I try to explain. “It doesn’t mean that I must drink from you whenever I have the Thirst and need blood.”

“Oh yes it fucking does!” He glares at me. “How could you use another male when I was right there, waiting to give you anything you needed? Don’t you know that I’d give you my blood to the last drop if you wanted me to?”

His words shake me to my core because I see that they’re true. I remember the oath he gave me—that he would give every last drop of his own blood before a single drop of mine was spilled. It seems he really meant it.

“Alaric…my Paladin, forgive me,” I say and reach for his hand. At first, he won’t give it to me but then I say, “Please, just let me explain.” And finally he does.

I entwine our fingers and look up at him.

“Well?” he says gruffly. “What is there to explain?”

“The role of a Blood-servant is mainly to protect his Mistress,” I tell him. “And of course, if she grows thirsty, she may drink of him.”

“Then why didn’t you drink of me?” he asks and I can see hurt in his eyes now. He feels I’ve rejected him. “Is it because the peasant was another NightBorn?” he asks. “Is DayBorn blood not good enough for you?”

“My darling Paladin, I’m sure your blood would be exquisite,” I assure him, stroking his hand and arm. “But I cannot drink of you.”

“Why?” he wants to know, but at least he’s listening now.

“If I drink of you, I’ll Bind you to me so tightly it will be terribly painful when we separate.” I give him a level look. “And you know as well as I that we must separate in time. You swore your oath to your GodKing long before you pledged yourself to me.”

He looks stricken for a moment and even though I’m not wearing the Jewel of Knowing, I can guess his thoughts—he doesn’t want to leave me.

Truth be told, I don’t want to part with him either. I’ve never felt so close to anyone before—not even Kraven back before I knew his true intentions and thought I loved him.

Seeing that look on his face and knowing that it matches the feelings in my own heart decides me—it’s time to move forward with my plans.

“You know I’m right, Alaric,” I murmur. I reach for him and cup his bristly cheek in my palm. “We have to part eventually, but first we must go to the City of Night to retrieve the Heart of the Eclipse. We’ll go tomorrow.”

He looks surprised.

“You think I’m ready? Is my training over?”

I don’t tell him that his training was over some time ago, that I’ve been avoiding making this trip. Both because I dread traveling to the City again, and because I hate the thought of losing him when this is all over.

Truly, I’ve been putting this off too long.

“Yes,” I tell him. “Your training is over. Now come join me in the bath—I want you near me.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He strips and enters the bath to take me in his arms. He isn’t as submissive as usual though. He bends me over one muscular arm and takes my lips in a possessive kiss—it’s like he’s laying claim to me, proving that I’m his when it’s supposed to be the other way around.

I want to protest but somehow I can’t—I’m too caught up in the breathless kiss and the way he strokes my fangs with his tongue, teasing their points as though he’s daring himself to draw blood.

“Don’t, Alaric,” I tell him when the kiss breaks at last. “I told you—it will be agony when we part if I take your blood.”

“What if I don’t fucking want to part?” he growls. “And how do you know it will hurt so much?”

I look away.

“You’re not the first Blood-servant I’ve had,” I say, evasively. I don’t want to speak about Kraven.

Alaric gives me a searching look, like he wants to ask for more details but he must sense that I won’t give them. At last he nods.

“Let me bathe you, Mistress,” he rumbles. “Since you won’t take my blood.”

“Do as you wish,” I tell him and tug at his hair to bring him down for another kiss. I don’t know what’s wrong with me—I’ve never kissed any of my Blood-servants before. It’s too intimate. But somehow I can’t resist my Paladin.

I let him bathe me and massage me and then spend as long as he likes between my legs, tasting me, which is his favorite form of submission. I don’t let him come, however. He’ll need every bit of repressed desire to power his Celestial Fire if we run into problems in the City of Night.

And I’m afraid we’re most definitely going to have problems.