Page 49 of The Broken Prince

“It won’t.”

His eyes shifted back to mine instantly.

“It’s temporary.”

“And she knows this?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

He straightened in his chair again. “Why risk your life, along with the lives of your people, for a woman who’s temporary?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I don’t mean to accuse you of deceit, but that simply makes no sense.”

“It’s…complicated.”

“I’m a smart man, Aurelias.”

It was the first time he’d called me by my name, so I knew our standing had improved. “Vampires are immortal.”

His eyes remained sharp.

“Unless we’re killed in battle, we live forever.”

“So you’re risking even more for her.”

“I guess you could say that.” Now my actions felt even heavier. I risked not only my life, but my afterlife as well. Because after this…there was nothing. I could return home and live ten thousand more years…or I could risk it in battle for humans.

He was quiet for a long time, pain brewing in his heart. “If she were a vampire, would that change anything?”

Another heavy question. “If she were already a vampire, everything would be different.” There would be no barrier between us, no reason for restraint. “But she’s not…so it doesn’t matter.”

“Unless you turned her into one…” He didn’t ask the question, like he was scared of my answer.

“I can sire her, but even if she asked, I wouldn’t do it.”

“Why?” His question was unleashed with the quickness of his blade.

I wouldn’t tell him the real reason. It was none of his business. “Once you become a vampire, you forsake your soul, so when you die…you just die. There’s nothing afterward. No afterlife. I would never take that from her.”

Huntley’s expression was so tight, it was as if he was about to snap a cord in his neck. There was terror in his heart, rampant and uncontrollable, slowly poisoning his veins. “Are you an honorable man, Aurelias?”

“Yes.”

“Then you keep your word?”

“Always.”

“Promise me you’ll never allow my daughter to be one of you.” Desperation burned in his eyes, a plea from a father.

“You have my word.”

When he looked away, he breathed a deep sigh of relief.

“Even if I asked, she would never do it.”

He looked at me again.

“I know her heart, and she couldn’t bear to live a life where everyone she loves dies, while she lives on. To know she’ll never see you and her mother in the afterlife. To know she can’t have children. I never have to ask the question when I already know the answer.”

“You can’t have children?”