Page 29 of The Crimson Princess (The Ravengale Chronicles #1)

Chapter twenty-two

S till recovering from Toren’s sudden appearance, I chide him, “You could have warned me.”

“I would have, if you had the link to our communication open.”

He’s dressed in all black, and despite the long black coat he’s wearing, I can admire the snug fit of his leather pants and tee paired with sturdy, fighting boots.

His body is ridiculously hot and hard, and after last night, I now know it to be even better naked.

Against me. If I’m not careful, I’m going to lex his clothes off and embarrass us both.

Well, I’m not sure he’ll be embarrassed at all.

“I do not believe that the most ancient of vampires cannot pierce the connection and talk to me if you so choose. And how did you know I was here?”

“This is your sanctuary. It felt like a good guess. Are you hunting?”

“Are you ?”

“Only for you, princess. And you didn’t answer my question. Are you hunting?”

“Training.” I sigh, somehow beyond games with Toren. “My mother always taught me, use it or lose it, and at this point I don’t even know what I have to lose. My birthday didn’t come with a card that listed out what changed means.”

“Let’s find out. Let’s train. Fight me.”

I gape at him and laugh. “You want me to fight you ?”

“Yes. Fight me. Test yourself by testing me, but I’m not a werewolf, Satima. I’m an ancient vampire, unlike anyone or anything you’ve ever faced. ”

“In other words, you’re an old man.”

“Experience equals pleasure. I think you know that.” His voice is silky seduction.

I feel those words in the hollow he’s left between my legs, but I manage a fast retort. “Why is everything about sex to men? Arrogance does not age like fine wine, Toren.”

“But the rest of me did?”

I roll my eyes. “You’re impossible. And I know how powerful you are, Toren.” More than my father, I think, but I don’t say that.

“And you need to know how to fight someone like me.”

“There is no one else like you.”

“Wrong. My brother is just as powerful. And when you face a lethal warrior who’s rotten to the core, he’ll fight dirty.”

Evil to the core , and this is who my father is risking partnering with the sorceress and the druids. Toren curls his fingers at me. “Come on. Bring it.”

“I’m not without my own skill,” I say. “You know that, right?”

“I, too, know very well how powerful you are. The problem is, you don’t.”

He’s not wrong and if he can read this in me, can others?

He quirks an eyebrow. “Afraid, princess?”

“What if I hurt you?” I taunt.

“It’ll hurt so good, Satima. Of that I can promise you.”

My cheeks flush with his flirtation and I throw a ball of energy at him, a skill I acquired at a very young age, and mastered while working as my mother’s shadow.

It does nothing to him. And I mean nothing .

He doesn’t so much as flinch. The next thing I know he’s blinked in front of me, his hands on my arms. “I told you. I’m like no one or anything you have ever faced. You should have already blinked away.”

“I can’t blink.” The words are like claws in my throat.

“Yes, you can.” His tone is absolute.

“No. I can’t .”

“I can feel your magic, Satima. You’re still allowing your grief to suppress it. You need to stop. ”

“I can’t blink .”

A blade appears in his hand, glinting in the beam of the sunlight, the cold steel pressing to the delicate skin of my throat. “Blink away,” he commands.

“I can’t,” I hiss.

“Blink away or die.”

“Is that how I end? You get me naked and then kill me?”

He blinks and takes me with him and I end up pressed to a giant hickman tree, the truck as wide as ten of me, his hard body pressed to mine. A blade reappears in his hand. “Shield yourself.”

“I can’t do that, either.”

“Yes, you can .” He blinks us back where we started, and while the blade is gone, his hands are pressed to my shoulders. “Now what? What do you do when it’s my brother not me holding you like this?”

“You aren’t him. You’re you ,” I say and I have no idea why I do it, but I punch to my toes and press my lips to his.

“Damn it, Satima,” he murmurs, and cups my head, his mouth slanting over mine, his kiss so wild and wicked the frostburns begin to howl.

A moment later, I’m back against the tree. “You better not ever kiss my brother like that, princess. You won’t like how I respond. Shield yourself .” The blade is back, a threatening menace in his hand.

“Toren,” I whisper. “I really can’t. ”

“Try for me.” His voice is softer now, a gentle prod. “Really want it.” He releases me and places a small space between us. “Pretend I’m my brother. Don’t let me reach for you again or I’ll kill you.”

I give a nod and imagine an evil Toren about to end me, willing a shield in place, but Toren’s hands are on me in an instant, his forehead pressed to mine. “You will never survive what is coming without full use of your magic.”

“What exactly is coming?”

“You know exactly what’s coming.” He eases back to meet my stare. “War. ”

“Why do you care if I survive?”

“Because you made me care.”

“Because I’m the future queen who can deliver peace between our races?”

“That’s a bonus, but if you even remotely resembled your father, I wouldn’t give two fucks if you died.

” His coat disappears and he lifts his wrist to his mouth, and bites himself, a deep wound that spurts blood, and even before I see the blood pooling on his skin, the iron smell triggers a ravenous sensation in me, my mouth salivating.

My body is on fire, my skin hot. I think I might even be trembling.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

“My magic will feed your magic,” he explains. “Not forever, but long enough for you to stop suppressing your abilities.” He lifts his wrist to my mouth.

I catch his arm. “No. No, I—why are you doing this?”

“Just drink, princess .” He uses the name as a raspy endearment. “You know you want to.”

He’s right. I do. So much. I want to drink.

And it’s confusing and more than a little terrifying.

I’m questioning everything I thought I knew about myself, and yet when he captures my head and presses his wrist to my mouth, I drink.

No. That isn’t an accurate description. I don’t just drink.

I ravish his wrist, consuming the very essence of the vampire king as if I’m starving for blood, for him.

The iron taste and smell transform to amber, sweet and addictive, the scent surrounding me, consuming me.

And I have never in my life felt such a clawing need, to the point the world spins out of control.

I know nothing but what I need, what I crave, and the only reason I stop drinking is Toren pulls his arm away.

“Enough. Too much too soon will make you sick.”

My fingers have somehow curled around his shirt, and the lust that burns through my veins is almost too much to bear.

He knows, too. He knows and he answers the silent cry of my body, his mouth slanting over mine, his tongue, oh his tongue drives me wild, that amber taste lingering on my lips, on his lips.

I’m without limits, pressing against him, all but demanding he take me right here. Yes. Please. Now.

But when I would melt for him, his mouth tugs away from mine. “Come with me.”

Come with him . With the vampire king. With my father’s enemy who doesn’t feel like an enemy at all. He feels like coming home and there is no logic to that feeling. None. My grip on his shirt tightens, my chin lifting in defiance as I stare up at him.

“If I find out you did this to me with magic, I swear I don’t care how ancient you are, how powerful, I’ll kill you.”

“All I’m doing is showing you who you are and where you belong.”

“I’m gale. The princess of Ravengale.”

“And vampire. You are both and you can’t live your life denying that fact. Your mother deserved better than a husband who made her feel like she had to hide.”

“She loved him.”

“He abused her.”

“He’s my father , Toren. I know you hate him, but he’s my father .”

“I’m speaking the truth and you know it, and you’re his next victim, if you allow it to happen, and that is not what your mother would want.”

“What do you know of what my mother would want?”

“I know that she was terrified at the idea of him finding out you’re part vampire. She feared for your safety. Are you going to let him drive you to the druid’s bed?”

“Why? Because you want me in yours?” It’s out before I can pull it back.

“Yes, Satima. I want you in mine.” There is possessive heat to his tone. “And if that druid touches you—”

One of the frostburns snarls and Toren draws in a breath. “Someone is coming.”

I sense it, too.

Magic.

He lifts me off the tree and his thumb rubs intimately over my lips, the tingle of magic in his touch telling me he’s swiped away the blood. “You okay?”

Emotions wells in my throat at the gentle question, stirring emotions I don’t dare allow myself to name, or I might lose it and have an ugly cry. I’m not okay isn’t an answer worthy of the warrior and future queen my mother groomed me to become. “I’m fine.”

His hands come down on my arms and he lowers his head, his breath as warm as an afternoon beam of sunshine on my neck, as he murmurs, “You’re not okay, but you will be.

It takes time.” He eases back to meet my stare.

“And you carry yourself, even now, filled with grief, like the future queen that you are.”