Page 25 of The Ballad of the Vampire Prince

The universe really does hate me. Why have they put this beautiful creature in my destructive path?

“What are you doing in the forest, Rhianelle?” I ask, enjoying the sound of her name in my mouth.

“Training,” she answers. Her gentle hand reaches to remove a leaf from my suit.

The recoil from my body is spontaneous, the weakly human part of me cowering from the memory of the witch’s whip. But it had done its damage.

Rhianelle’s bright smile dims.

I hate myself for reacting that way.

Perhaps it’s the years of torture, perhaps it’s the inevitability of the curse getting to Rhianelle… There’s too much bad blood between us.

“It’s not you.” I echo the words I once said to her.

The girl simply nods, backing away to give me space. That dejected look on her face sends pain crashing through my heart.

I should just go.

I try not to look at her haunted eyes as I turn away to leave. My gut twists the further I walk from her. Rhianelle didn’t ask to be Rhunhraefn’s vessel. She has done nothing wrong. It feels like I’m punishing her for something she never did.

A strange tug in my chest prompts me to look back. I see the girl with her shoulders hunched and her face casted downward. Confusion and sadness color her soft features as she touches her belly.

Lilith is the bitch responsible for my damnation, not this sweet girl. The years of suffering under the clutches of the witches have turned me into this horrible bastard. But I’m done hurting this girl just because I’m a coward.

I move closer to the Elven Queen, my body tensing. “Would you like a sparring partner?”

She blinks, her brows knitting into a frown.

“For your training,” I clarify.

I am certain the bewilderment in her eyes matches my own.

Her pupils constrict as she catches my stare. “I can see the benefit for me. What’s in it for you?” she asks.

“I’m teaching myself not to react to that.” I lower my eyes to look at the Rhunhraefn’s marking.

Her lilac eyes widen slightly.

“The curse?”

I merely nod.

She gives me a vexed look. “I would suggest therapy. Lady Deirdre holds a mind healing session on every fifth day of the week.”

“I’m facing my fear. I’m sure it’s a form of therapy too,” I say wryly.

“It might be… but I think you skipped a few steps.” She backs away. “I don’t want to cause you pain.”

Of course she doesn’t. This sweet fucking creature.

“It will be good for us both,” I say, half expecting her to reject the absurd idea again.

I try not to focus on the way she tugs her lower lip between her teeth in contemplation.

“Yes, I would love—like that.” I catch a hint of excitement despite the uncertain waver in her answer.

“Should we start now?” she suggests.