Page 51 of The Ballad of the Vampire Prince

This is bad.

I had just shortened her life to three years, now I’ve got to ruin it whatever she has left too?

I should stay the fuck away from her.

But now that I have her in my arms, I don’t think I’ll be able to let go. She feels so fucking perfect there. It feels so right.

“Nel?”

“Yes?” She lifts her face to look at me. The sight of her flushed cheeks and wide eyes is surreal. I believed Rhianelle was a dream when I first saw her. She still seems ethereal and otherworldly to me.

Something heavy settles in the air between us. Our lips would be touching if she… tilts up her head.

Rhianelle does exactly that.

Shit.

Her eyes widen and her pupils dilate. That delicate face does the same odd thing once again as it turns red. The girl pretends to be indifferent to the pull of the bond, but I can hear her heart pacing a little faster.

We’re so close, I can kiss her if I want to.

And I want to.

So does she as she leans forward. I feel her rising heartbeat the closer she gets to me.

Then her ears suddenly twitch. “What’s that sound?”

Give me a fucking break—

My eyes roll to the back of my head at the interruption. I’d noticed this annoyance about half an hour ago. But I’m not quite ready to let her go yet.

“Save me!”

Fuck.

Chapter 7 Svenn

Raindrops glisten from the leaves and barks of the sea of trees around us. I could be kissing Rhianelle right now, but here we are, traversing through the thick woods to find the source of the noise.

“Please don’t kill me. Oh, it hurts, it hurts…”

Rhianelle winces at the trembling voice behind the shrubs. But the girl doesn’t rush blindly to the desperate plea. We both know where we are right now. This forest is close to the fae border and the Red Road. The sound we’re hearing can very well be a lure from the monsters in the forest.

“Let see if faeries do bleed silver.” A harsher voice resounds, and at that Rhianelle steps out from the wild berry bushes into the open.

The cruel voice belongs to one of the black-armored elven knights. He looms over a small bearded man, no taller than my knee, wearing an oversized brown cloak and a pointy hat.

The fae spirit within me immediately recognizes the creature as its kin.

A gnome.

He is held against the tree, his face flushed red from the assassin’s tight grip around his throat. His elven assailant has another creature trapped beneath his heel, a small boar.

The animal cries in pain when the assassin swivels to face us.

“Your Highness, this is a surprise.” The male greets Rhianelle with a curt nod.

I should kill him right then for the blatant disrespect. I repress the urge for the sake of earning Nel’s trust.