Page 31 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody (Elven Fantasy Romance #3)

Chapter 30 Svenn

R hianelle is nestled perfectly in my arms, the soft tresses of her hair tickling my skin. I take in the lines on her face, the face I had come to know so well and adore.

I had more glimpses into her past through the blood I drank earlier. Her life seems like a series of misfortunes. It’s one shitty thing after another. Little fawn has been through so much, though her scars may not be visible like mine. I want to know about all the storms she has weathered.

My resilient wildflower.

I can’t resist burying my face in her silver hair, inhaling the deep scent of water lilies.

Make love to me. I want more. I want it harder.

Hearing those words from that innocent mouth…

I want to fulfill every request, every desire she craves.

My gaze swivels to the guy standing at the foot of the bed. I find myself staring back at the black abyss of the bond’s eyes.

Is that how I look to Nel? No wonder her heart rate picks up with fear every time. I make a silent vow to be less intimidating to little fawn.

“I have no intention of inviting you back into me,” I say to the bastard.

Nel wants me, with or without him.

His anguished gaze locks with mine.

“I know,” he says, looking away. “But I need to show you something.”

He stretches his hand to me—no, not me—to the monsters that reside within me.

“Come now,” he coaxes one of the lesser beasts.

They don’t answer to him. Neither do I. But one of them wishes to comply with his instruction.

The creature slowly emerges from me, a small-winged faerie. Something in my chest pricks at the sight of the pitiful thing, with flower petals as clothes, clutching an acorn desperately close to its chest.

Lilith’s cruelty knows no bounds. What could she possibly gain by adding this poor creature into her batch of sacrifice?

“Show him,” the bond commands, his tone non-negotiable.

The pixie trembles at the sharpness of his voice. Slowly, it reaches into its pocket.

I don’t balk when it suddenly flies close to my face, sprinkling dust in my eyes.

Nothing happens at first.

Then the world explodes in the spectrum of colors. I nearly close my eyes from the glowing brilliance. A sense of vertigo overtakes me, something that never happens to a vampire unless we step on consecrated ground.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” I curse at the burning behind my irises. After a small eternity, my vision stabilizes.

I instantly know what the sight shows. It’s the essence of living things. Trees, animals, and mortal elves like Rhianelle, shine with an inner glow. The table, the bed, the pillow that we shared, an undead like me do not light up. It’s much like Wendy’s vision which shows the spirit or the true form of a creature.

The vision gradually dims until only a few glows remaining.

A golden thread shimmers brighter than any other essence and it’s coming from Rhianelle. I trace the rope as it twines with a dark ashen rope leading to me.

“What the fuck am I looking at?” I ask the bond.

“This is it,” he says in a low voice. “The threads that these creatures, elves, fae, orcs, and dwarves call fate.”

I admire Rhianelle’s pretty string of fate. It’s as warm and bright as she is, and I can’t fight the curve of my lips.

But then I see other strings on the mattress, not attached to either of us. They trail to the outside of the tent.

“What are those?” I ask him.

“Potential mates.”

His answer thunders through me like a lightning strike.

The bond studies one particular golden string closely. “This one belongs to some fucking fae who made a connection to her.”

His thread glows with the same bright light as Nel’s. I compare it to mine which looks like some desiccated rope on a pirate’s ship. It looks brittle enough to be picked apart by the wind.

“Destiny says he is supposed to be with her. Similar upbringing, a noble lineage, an identical past. They are perfect and were always meant for each other,” he pauses to exhale. “But by some twisted fate, she fell down a rabbit hole and met you.”

The bond juts his head to another illuminous string, twirling on the bedpost with a sapphire glow. “The blue, polite one is from her knight, Aelfric.”

Just when I was starting to tolerate Eyepatch’s presence… Guess I’d have to kill him now.

I lift the blanket from the bed, my eyes surveying for any other fucking thread.

“What are you doing?” the bond arches a dark brow.

I’m searching for a fucking red or grey string that could belong to Red or Shade. I’ll be damned if I found them.

The bond’s eyes churn with emotions. “My point is, the mating bond is a fucking fickle thing. What happens when she finds out she has options? Better ones?”

Fiery pain slices my heart at the thought of losing her.

“Do you understand now what you have to do?” the bond asks.

“Kill her other suitors and damn them to hell.”

Lesser men would have flinched at the solution I uttered, but the bond is me.

He simply nods in agreement. “Yes, that. But first, secure the bond and claim her.”

The bond stares at me, dark eyes unblinking.

My shallow breaths fill the silence of the tent. “I get it. Now go.” I close my eyes.

When I open them again, he is gone.

Emotion wells up in my throat as I glance at the girl beside me. I run my hand over the back of my head, relishing in the memory of her tugging my hair there.

“Svenn, I don’t share.” Her eyes were fierce and possessive when she said that.

“Same here, sweetheart,” I whisper to the dark.

I cast a glance at the glorious golden string reaching out to her and Eyepatch’s polite blue thread.

What if they have a chance to make her happy? A small voice of doubt takes root.

“Fuck them,” I hiss.

I swear to fucking gods, I’ll make her happier than any of her fucking suitors could. I’m the better option.

“You’re mine, Svenn.”

The beasts purr beneath my skin at the replay of her words. “You have me, little fawn.”

I lean in and allow myself a soft kiss on her temple. Nothing ever feels as good as being with her, but I’ve pushed my anger aside long enough. It’s time to rip the throats of the bastards who hurt her. I will take pleasure in ending them one by one. This is destined from the moment she walked into the tent with a battered body.

I touch her healed ribs.

Who the fuck did this to her? It kills me that I wasn’t there for her.

I move from the bed and feel a small tug on my arm. I look down to find little fawn’s fingers latched on me.

“Stay,” she mutters in her sleep.

Every single nerve ending is demanding for me to obey that wish. Her firm grip stirs a burst of emotions in my heart. If only she knew the hold she has on me.

Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll never let you go.

I take that soft hand, kiss every knuckle, and place it softly on the bed.

If I stall this any longer, I’ll lose track of those bastards. And if it rains… I’m fucked.

It doesn’t take long for me to put on my hunting leathers and vambraces. I pack several small blades into the inside of my coat, not that I need them for the kill. They serve an entirely different purpose. I take another look at the sleeping queen before I leave.

I’ll be back soon, Nel.

The amber glow of the early morning light is near blinding as I step outside the tent.

Tall one—Darstan is on his post with a lady on his lap. She’s tending to his wound the same way Rhianelle healed me in the old castle with the elven blessings. I can’t help but feel like I’ve intruded on a very private moment.

I clear my throat to alert them politely, but the couple have registered my presence long before. It’s subtle but they’re both poised to attack me should the need arise. The lady will jam her dagger to my throat and that heavy sword leaning on the tree stump will be lodged into my abdomen if the knight’s swing doesn’t sever my head first.

They’re a team.

And not just any team.

Mates.

Through the sight that was blessed by the pixie dust, I see how Darstan and his wife are bonded by solid chains made of gold. It shines brightly, glowing like blades of morning light passing through a window. Shame fills me at my own ugly thread, barely put together and supported by Nel’s.

I’m not slighted by the couple’s intention to kill me. That’s a fairly normal reaction to a Strigon, and I’m used to it.

The knight’s gaze hardens, then narrows at me.

“I’m heading out. Will you look out for her while I’m gone?” I request briefly, gesturing at Nel’s tent.

He nods silently to me.

“Thank you, Darstan.”

The words sound awkward and uncomfortable. I’m almost grateful that the male did not respond in kind, and merely nods again.

Nel is safe in capable hands and I can begin my hunt. These people who hurt her are still hanging around close. It’s faint but I catch hints of their scent at the edge of the camp, near the trees. It’s becoming clear to me the ones who hurt Nel are her own people.

I head straight into the woods. The smell of blood from the field and fortress is interfering with my senses. I lose their trail several times.

Damn it.

I need to do this quick. The gray sea of cloud in the sky above is looking like it’s about to pour out its contents soon.

I recognize his presence before I hear his easy, light footsteps.

“Oh, it’s you,” Red mutters in lieu of a greeting.

The knight appears from the trees, dressed in a black battlesuit and a crimson cloak. I quickly move away from the guy to continue my hunt. Of course, like the complete fucker that he is, he trails behind me. He doesn’t make his stalking subtle either.

His presence becomes grating enough that I have to ask. “What are you doing?”

“Want to tell me why you’re not at the camp trying to win your wife back?” he asks right back.

It’s none of his goddamn business.

“Stop following me,” I tell him, inserting enough threat in my tone.

“I’m not following you. Aelfric wants me to patrol the camp. He will kill me for slacking,” he announces, flashing a dazzling smile.

So patrol away, leave, I almost tell him.

Either the devil or the gods must have blessed me because it hasn’t rained yet despite the distant thundering.I can’t afford to waste time driving Red away, so I let him shadow me and do whatever he wants.

I wish I could see the scene of what the hell had happened. I tried looking for it inside her head. Poking around a person’s consciousness is my expertise but Rhianelle’s mental barrier is too strong. I ended fucking her in her mind instead. I guess not all is wasted.

But now I have to rely on what little I saw in her blood to find those guys.

One of the beasts in me whispers, I’ve found them.

The one who punched her ribs. The one who kicked her shin. The one who kneed her in the guts. The one who sat on top of her.

That’s it. That’s it. I’m close.

But just like that the scent disappears again. This task is beginning to look like something futile. The forest has fallen so still that I can barely hear the sound of insects.

“You’re still here,” I mutter, turning to the red-hooded knight.

Red quirks a smile at the remark, running a hand over his hair. “I have this odd hunch you’re about to do something stupid.”

If I were a mortal, I would have rolled my eyes.

A small pause of silence hangs between us before he finally says, “You’re out here to kill.”

There is no judgement in his eyes, only raw curiosity.

I consider telling the knight about what happened to Rhianelle. I’m sure Red will hunt them like a hound if I put him on the trail.

No.

Those scumbags are mine and mine alone. My gut burns at the mere memory of her coming home to me in that battered state. When I find the fuckers who did that to her, they’ll wish they’d never been born.

Red raises a brow. “Well, what is it?”

“Nothing.” I let out a heavy sigh, expelling the frustration from my lungs.

He continues to follow me while his stalker is close on his heels. I elevate my gaze to the creature in the forest. The wolf wrinkles his jowls, its eyes locked on Red.

“It’s following you again,” I mutter.

The knight glances over his shoulder. “Yeah, I know.”

Maybe I should just leave him to be devoured by the wolf. But I remind myself that this guy is one of Rhianelle’s trusted knights.

The right thing to do is to help him kill his stalker. Red has earned that, at least for helping me yesterday. I draw my hunting blade, but something stops me in my tracks.

A soft scent floats in the air.

Shit.

“What’s wrong?” the knight asks, sending me a concerned look.

Rhianelle’s sweet scent is all over the creature’s snout.

“I would have killed the wolf for you a second ago…” I trail off with dismay. “But I can’t. I think he’s one of Rhianelle’s strays.”

It’s so like my darling Nel to feed cats, raccoons, rats, and befriend the creatures in the woods.

Red is staring at me with a muted expression.

“You want to kill it?” he finally asks, his eyes widening with disbelief. “Who the fuck wishes to kill a dog?”

Annoyance boils under the surface of my skin. “It’s not a dog…”

“Wolves are good boys too. You can’t go around killing them,” Red mutters, shaking his head.

It’s not a wolf either. I keep telling this fucker that the creature is an elf. And this elf-wolf touched my Nel yesterday. Perhaps it’s best if I kill it anyway, stray or not.

The wolf scratches his ear with his hind leg.

“See that? It’s no different from a dog,” Garrett says, as if that proves any of his idiotic points. “What a good boy.”

The wolf’s tongue flicks out and up to the tip of his nose. Its lips peel back, revealing jagged teeth, a high pitch snarl resounds from its throat.

Red pulls down his scarlet hood, his eyes fearless. “My, what big teeth you have.”

Dread crawls up my sternum knowing that Nel had been near those lethal fangs. I must keep Rhianelle away from this dangerous beast. If I’m not careful, I may have another Coral situation at my hand.

A bronze glow on the forest floor snatches my attention. I touch my temple to smooth the strain I feel there. The vision from the pixie dust is gradually disappearing, but I see it now.

Red has a string attached to him.

I expect for it to lead back to camp. I’ll kill him if his fucking string of fate goes anywhere near Rhianelle’s, but it doesn’t. The thread wanders into the bushes… straight towards the wolf.

I blink several times to confirm.

The knight’s burnished thread is entwined with the creature’s silver string.

Interesting.

But I have little time to entertain this fuckery. I need to see Nel soon. Tracking those bastards is taking longer than I thought. My longing for little fawn becomes too much for me to bear.

“I’m heading back to the camp.” I don’t know why I bother telling Red that.

“I’ll come with you,” he says easily, taking another glance at the forest.

I thought this guy said he’s on patrol duty…

Frustration curdles in my gut over the fruitless hunt as we return to neat rows of tents in the camp. Several warriors have gathered in what I can only assume is the elves’ prayer circle. The fear in their faces is stark.

“What’s the matter with them?” I ask the knight beside me.

Red lifts his brows heavenward. “Did you not hear the call to the hunt yesterday?”

No. I was too busy worrying about my sweet Nel to care about the blaring horn and the annoying drumming.

The knight’s easy expression turns grave. “The Fae King and his allies have declared war on Aelfheim. They’re coming for us.”

For her.

It grates me that little fawn has to shoulder this burden, but I cannot fault her for it. The girl is wise and brave. My equal in every way that matters. I should have seen that from the start.

“There she is, your wife,” Red suddenly says, breaking my thoughts.

I follow his gaze to one of the white-topped healing tents. The infirmary is filled with dwarven prisoners and orcs. I don’t see the polite one from yesterday, Rollo.

“I’m sorry. I’ll get you another one.” I hear Nel’s voice apologizing to the band of dwarven prisoners. I trace the sound among the crowd to find the girl.

Then I see her, dressed in a healer’s acolyte robes, sneaking to bring the prisoners food.

“She is helping them?” I don’t realize I voiced out my surprise out loud.

“Of course she is,” Red says simply.

I watch in stunned silence as Rhianelle settles beside a dwarven lord, assisting him with his meal.

“I saw the whore queen’s horse earlier,” one of the orc prisoners whispers in Orkavan, Myrkheim’s mother tongue. “I bet the silver-haired bitch is around here somewhere.”

His friend merely nods, focusing on his rations of food. Their leather armors and surcoats are faded and overpatched, and they have been disarmed. Despite the orkan warriors lack of weapons, I find their proximity to Nel unnerving.

“For what she did to us yesterday, the bitch must pay in full — in blood,” the same orc mutters, his keen eyes train on every healer in the tent. The necklace translates his insult, carving it into my brain, each one worse than the one before. Nel resumes feeding the dwarven lord his porridge, ignoring the orc.

“Once I have my staff, I am going to kill her. Then I’ll bring her back to life, just so I can have the satisfaction of killing her the second time,” he grumbles. It’s becoming unbearable having to listen to the orc ramblings any longer without wanting to crack his windpipe.

My hand inches for my blade.

Red clicks his tongue, his hand quickly grasping my arm. “They have surrendered. Rhianelle will hate you for it.”

“That asshole is openly mocking her,” I snarl at the elf. If he keeps holding me back, I might rip Garrett’s hand off.

“Come on. Don’t lose your marbles now…” His hand remains stiff on my arm. “I thought you want her to like you.”

The reminder makes me stiffen.

I am trying to earn her heart. I want Nel to trust me again. I want her to be mine.

The knight narrows his gaze to Nel and smiles. “She’s probably trying to find out her friend’s fate from the other prisoners. Let her do her thing.”

That make sense…

I shrug him off, but I heed Red’s advice. This once.

“Get that fucking look off your face,” I tell him.

Garrett, the bastard, laughs.

Little fawn’s ears twitch and she starts looking around the camp.Her gaze immediately finds mine. Just like that, a stunning smile spreads across her face. It immediately shifts to frown the closer she walks towards us.

Red and her exchange greetings but her eyes turn glassy when she looks at me. “I woke up and you weren’t there this morning.”

An ache sprouts in my heart over that look.

“I was out looking for truffles. I saw some in the woods yesterday.” The lie comes easily, making me feel like an ass.

“Truffles?” Her eyes widen. “You should have taken me with you. I’m good at finding them.”

Red knows I’m lying, but he says nothing. I’m silently grateful for it. I was ready to throw him to the wolves and unmask his secrets to Rhianelle, but here he is keeping my secret.

“No news of the maiden of Arawynn?” the knight asks Rhianelle.

I see the small lines of disappointment creasing her features.

“We’ll get her back. Don’t worry,” he vows, taking her hand in his.

I shove the need to snap his neck deep inside when I see Nel’s face brighten with hope at his promise.

I make a mental note to myself to pay attention to the things she cares about in the future like this bastard does.

“Will you be all right?” he asks her.

My darling Nel nods in determination. “I have to.”

Red’s eyes flick to me.“I’m going to finish my patrol. Walk her back to her tent safely, will you?” he says with a smile.

I give him a curt nod. I don’t feel so bad about leaving the orc alive when I see where Red and his bag of crafty tool are headed.

Rhianelle returns the robe to one of the acolytes and runs back to me in her green sundress. I swear the temple clothing they made her wear gets more ridiculous with each ceremony.

She places her hand on my arm, making me feel happier than any man has the right to feel. “Let’s go find that truffle. I’m having it for dinner.”

Shit.

“Should you really be running about?” I ask her as we get closer to the edge of camp. “Do your ribs still hurt?”

“It’s healing well, thanks to you,” she says, her lips parting in a small smile. I am so undeserving of it after everything I did to her yesterday.

“I’m sore somewhere else,” she adds softly, barely a whisper.

It takes all of my restraint from sweeping her into my arms and kissing her.

I pause from our walk and turn to look at her.

My lovely sun. Faraway. Unattainable.

Her pure soul radiates like the stars, such a stark contrast to the darkness that resides in me.

The emotions in my chest turn volatile as I imagine her being bound to me forever. The Rhunhraefn had changed me into something worse than a monster. Something like me would only taint her, lead her down to a path of damnation.

“Are you sure I am what you want?” I suddenly ask out loud.

Fucking hell. What the fuck is wrong with me? This uncertainty is unlike me. Even if she says she doesn’t, I’ll make her want me. I’ll make her mine.

Her brows knit at the question.

“Yes, I want you,” she says it clearly. The assurance in her voice triggers an odd emotion inside me.

“Svenn, you already know this. What’s wrong?” she asks, worried.

I gaze down at her and kiss the top of her head. “Nothing, I just needed to hear it again.”

“No, you need to feel it again,” she says, before pulling me down and kissing me hard. Her mouth is warm, inviting, and perfect. Yes, the girl is perfectly mine. Every stroke of her tongue purges the doubts lurking in the corners of my damned heart. It’s telling me , Of course, I want you. She wants to dance with me. She wants to spend time with me. She wants to kiss me. She wants to fuck me. She wants me.

I fucking melt into that kiss, into her.I never want this to stop. It takes every strength in my fraying control to let her go when she breaks that kiss.

“Is that clear, Svenn?” she asks breathlessly.

I nod wordlessly.

The wintry air bites on her exposed skin and I feel her shivering in that ridiculous sundress. I remove my coat in one fluid motion and place it over her shoulders.

The cloak was heavy even on me and even more so on Rhianelle, it completely swallows her lithe body. She looks like a giant bat and I might laugh if I didn’t want to kiss her again so desperately right now.

She notices the look on my face and frowns. “Svenn, don’t laugh…”

I do the opposite. “But I have a new nickname for you, little bat—”

“Stop being mean!” Her brows furrow and she glares.

I take her hands and bring her trembling fingers to my mouth. Her cheeks darken and I swear I’ve never seen anything more fucking beautiful than this. I’m suddenly reminded of that time in the labyrinth when I first met her and she was warming my hands the same way.

My darling little fawn.

“I never got the chance to say this properly, but thank you,” I pause for a moment. Somehow words don’t feel enough to convey my feelings. “If it weren’t for you, I’d still be in that abandoned well.”

“Svenn…” Rhianelle simply stares back at me. Her lilac eyes say more than her pretty lips ever could. They are bright and warm and lovely all at the same time.

I remind myself this seemingly fragile girl is battling the strongest curse in the realm, the Rhunhraefn silently with little effort.

“Can you teach me how to fight those dark curses?” I ask her. This can’t keep happening to me. First with the Grimsbane armor and then yesterday with the dagger.

Nel looks up at me from beneath her beautiful lashes. “I don’t think I’ll be a good teacher, Svenn. You still can’t write the elven letterings up to now.”

Shit.

Another one of my lies is slowly catching up with me. Balthazar’s necklace lets me speak in six hundred nineteen languages and write in one hundred and ten of them. I’m just pretending to be a dumbass so she’ll sit on my lap to help me practice.

“Rhianelle, I lied to you this morning,” I quickly confess. “I wasn’t out looking out for truffles…”

“I figured as much,” she mutters, shoulders sagging. “They’re seasonal and there are not many oaks here.”

“But you can trust me from here on. I swear—”

My senses suddenly prickle. What the fuck is this?

I look around the camp. It’s just the Elven warriors, more and more of them have arrived, probably after a meal or latrine duties. My eyes snag to one group.

It’s just her uncle and his lackeys, the Grimsbane returning to camp. But this stench…

It’s fucking them.

I’ve found the bastards who hurt her. The scent of the six people I’m looking for is spread around all twenty-seven Grimsbanes. It’s even there on her uncle for fuck’s sake. These assassins of Tiamat share weapons and equipment with one another. Which one of them touched her…

No matter.

I’ll just kill all of them.

They need to pay with blood for what they did to her. I clench and unclench my fist, readying for the kill.

The veins on my arms bulge and darken like ink. I throw my head back and blast a roar that shatters the glasses and lamp crystals around the tents. Every fire and light in the camp is extinguished by my shadow.

My body starts contorting, stretching, and tearing through my clothes. Bones break and fleshes rip. I feel every sharpened tooth that punches out from my mouth, every spike that sprouts from my body, every claw as it elongates from my hand.

I’ve shifted into my favorite killing form again.

Wendy.

A tense silence falls over the knights and folks in the camp. Their faces are pale and horrified as they gaze upon a nightmare coming to life. Wrath fuels the rhythm of my heart, pumping chaos and fire into my veins. I give in to that hunger.

My power rumbles, begging to be unleashed on my enemies. Their deaths will not be swift. I will enjoy this. I want to carve their faces, pull on their veins one by one, flay them skin to skin, mince them into fucking pieces—

Something tugs my hand.

I turn around with a grimace, snarling at whoever—at Rhianelle.

The girl covers her sensitive elven ears from my bloodcurdling roar. I stagger several steps back.

Guilt strums in my veins for showing this hideous part of me to her again. She almost fell off her horse yesterday when she saw me in this form.

I see my reflection in her eyes, dark and ugly.

A goddamn monster.

I don’t mean for her to see me like this. The shame is almost overwhelming. I want to dig a grave and fucking bury myself there. I’m beyond surprised when I find her staring back at me with wide eyes.

Rhianelle blinks, bold and fearless.

Every nerve, every muscle in me is locked as I stare at her.

“You said that I can trust you,” she says, her lilac eyes blazing with emotions.

I nod. You can.

My heart thumps like a wild animal in its cage, violent in its revolt. I lower my head, hating every minute she’s looking at me as in this monstrous form.

She raises a hand to touch Wendy’s skull.

Wait, wait—don’t, little fawn.

I feel her soft fingertips tracing the outline of his horn. For a deformed monster who was shunned by the world since he was born, the kindness she offers with that small touch is larger than the ocean itself.

She brushes my jaw, tilting my gaze up to meet hers.

“Stay with me, Svenn,” she calls to me, her voice silky soft, soothing. My need for violence evaporates at the cool feel of her fingers.

She tucks a tuft of silver hair behind her ear, her cheeks blushing just like anytime I look at her in my mortal form.

What the fuck is this?

The girl sees that I’m a walking carnage and she still wants me?

This elven queen truly doesn’t know what she’s doing to me and my demons. She’s unravelling us piece by piece. The ancient beast’s thirst for bloodshed quells at the touch and my body gradually morphs.

I give the Grimsbanes one last look in this horrid form to stoke the fear in their hearts. This is not done. When I find the six fuckers who hurt my little fawn, they’ll wish they were never born. Smoke rises from my heated body, the flowing blood in my veins cooling slowly. I’ve return to my mortal form, kneeling buck naked in front of her. Nothing survives that shift.

Fuck.

The girl drapes the heavy coat she wears back on my shoulders. I look up to her and slowly rise to my feet.

Rhianelle curls her arm around me, her breath warm against my neck. The girl isn’t just embracing me physically, she’s holding every broken, ill, damaged part of me, piecing it all together.

An audience has formed around us and they start chattering. I thought they’d be shitting in their breeches talking about me. But they’re whispering about Rhianelle being their savior and salvation from the fae. They’re calling my little fawn Queen of Flames. They’ve made several titles for me too, but they’re less favorable. All-Slayer, Death Bringer, The Black Wake.

As I pull away from her embrace, I whisper into her ear. “You’re more than I deserve, Nel.”

But I’m selfish enough to make her mine.

“I believe we started this on the wrong foot,” she says, the first hint of a smile returning to her face. “I don’t even know your real name.”

A faint shade of pink blushes her cheek as she raises her hand. “I am Rhianelle Wiolant of Volundr, Queen of Aelfheim.”

“Hello, Rhianelle.” I smile, taking her soft hand into mine. “I am Arescaine Darian Andras. The Vampire Prince of Morsvyenn.”