Page 20

ALARIC

I ’ve never known fear or fury like this. In all of the centuries, in all of the battles, in all of the life-or-death situations I’ve found myself in—nothing has ever compared to this.

We arrived back at the camp to find that Dahlia and her Keeper had gone to the village. I had already been on the verge of breaking and giving up on the notion of staying away from her before the conversation with Elias out in the wilds, but it had admittedly pushed me over the edge. I’d decided while lying in my tent that first night by the lake that even though I can’t claim her as my mate in the ways I want most, this self-imposed torture of keeping my distance was wearing thin. I am a prince. I am the High General of the most fearsome army in the history of the world. I can damn well control myself around my fucking mate.

So, instead of waiting for her to return, Elias and I had ridden out to meet them on their journey back from the village. Elias had given me a knowing look, a self-satisfied smile on his lips as if he were the sole reason behind my choice, but had miraculously refrained from gloating. We’d been laughing about nothing in particular when a stab of terror had nearly felled me. Even Xerxes had stutter stepped, stomping the ground and shaking his head in confusion. But it hadn’t been my terror I’d felt—it was Dahlia’s. I’d taken enough of her blood to truly feel her emotions now, at least strong ones, and the fear and panic and confusion she was feeling were so strong that my chest nearly split.

“What? What is it?” Elias asked, instantly on alert when he saw me tense.

“Dahlia,” I managed to grit out. “She’s in danger.” I spurred Xerxes into a gallop so fast that we were a blur across the road, my fangs and claws sharpening in rage. We pulled ahead of Elias, but he gave chase, his own fangs glinting as he snarled his own fury. Elias loves me like a brother and I know that he will protect my mate with all his power now that he knows the truth. My heart had swelled at the love for my closest friend, even as that iron fist of fear and rage clenched it tight.

Now we ride like the devil himself is on our backs, desperate to find her, desperate to figure out what could possibly be going on. I can feel Dahlia’s fear pulsing with every beat of my heart, a dagger of ice slipping deeper and deeper into my chest. What in seven hells could be happening to make her so afraid? To make her panic this way? Then I smell the blood and fire and smoke on the wind, hear the clash of blades and cries of battle in the distance, and my heart stops beating entirely.

No .

“Fuck,” Elias grates behind me.

“Come on, boy. Ride. Fly ,” I beg, desperately spurring Xerxes to go faster, pushing the warhorse to the limit of his power, but he can feel everything I’m feeling, and he seems to find some strength in himself, a fierce need to protect Dahlia as well, and he puts on a burst of speed that makes me gasp. Magnificent bastard . After what feels like an eternity, I can make out shapes in the distance, the familiar dance of battle through the thick smoke covering the road ahead. I don’t dare slow as I approach, but take in every detail of the utterly unbelievable scene before me as I barrel towards the chaos: twelve Revenants fighting four of Dahlia’s guard; bodies littering the earth, the dirt road wet and sticky with blood; no sign of Dahlia. Where the fuck is she? I know she’s near, can feel her and sense her, but can’t scent her over the stench of Revenant blood and smoke and fire.

Xerxes snorts and huffs, the cold and thrill of battle settling into every inch of the horse. He knows exactly what I want to do and where I want to go without me making a single move or command. We careen towards two Revenants fighting Malcom. The big vampire is covered in blood, both red and black. I unsheathe Night’s Fury from my back in an easy, practiced motion that’s as familiar to me as breathing. I swing the great sword and take the heads of both Revenants in one strike. Their bodies fall and Malcom inclines his head briefly before sprinting through the smoke to aid Cyrus. Isaiah lays in pieces beside him and my chest clenches. Vale, brother.

I slide from my horse as Elias hurtles into the fray just behind me and leaps from Orion’s back, landing easily and sprinting to engage another pair of Revenants with his twin short swords. He’s one of the greatest swordsmen in all the world, second only to myself, and watching him set to work on the two creatures is truly a thing of beauty. Later, I’ll recall it and marvel at my friend’s skill. Later, I’ll commend him for his bravery and valor. Later, I’ll even stroke his ego a bit and tell him how glorious he cut through the fray, like an avenging angel, all gold and fire.

But now, all I can think of is Dahlia, the need to find her like jagged claws tearing me apart from the inside. Another bastard charges towards me, but Xerxes throws himself between me and the Revenant. He rears back and kicks out with his hooves, and they crush right through the Revenant’s chest. Blood and bone spray through the air. The horse stomps on the Revenant’s body, just to be safe, his head popping like a grape, and soon nothing remains of the creature but thick, black pulp and shards of milk-white bone. I scan the area, trying to see through the smoke and bodies. The cool calm of battle is still upon me, as it always is during a fight, but there’s a frantic edge to my thoughts now that I’ve never had before. Where the fuck is she??

Descartes lay bleeding a few feet away, a Revenant looming over him. I speed towards them, fangs bared. The Revenant whirls, dark braids spinning wide around her head and her eyes going wide in shock.

“Not supposed to be here,” she hisses just before I plunge my blade into her chest, slicing through flesh and muscle, grating against bone. The Revenant howls in agony as the silver stars burn her, and I yank the blade free, kicking out and dislocating her knee caps with a loud snap that echoes off of the trees. She screeches and falls, black blood oozing from her chest and running down her chin. She bares her fangs and raises a dagger, but I lop of her hand at the wrist with a flick of mine, sending her dagger sailing through the mud, still clutched in her fingers. She howls and holds up the other hand to ward me off, fear in her eyes. I take that hand too, just for good measure. I leave her for someone else to finish off, or to be questioned later, if she survives, and rush to Descartes’ side.

“Where is she?!” I demand, only realizing a moment too late that the vampire’s eyes are wide and unseeing. He’s gone. “Fuck,” I growl, another swift stab of sorrow slicing my chest. Vale.

I feel a pulse of fear, but immediately followed by an even stronger pulse of rage. Dahlia. I stand and whip my head around, trying to find her, trying to—Pain laces through me, a white-hot agony that makes me stumble for a moment. I whirl, trying to find my attacker, but I see no one. My hand flies to my arm, where the pain still lances my body, but I frown—there’s no wound. I don’t understand…but then realization turns my blood to ice, spiky shards of it piercing every inch of me. It’s her pain I’m feeling. Dahlia is hurt.

Every instinct roars in my head to find her, to protect my fucking mate. My vision goes red, my mind nearly feral. My fangs and claws sharpen with the need to rip the bastard who had dared harm what’s mine to bloody ribbons. I grip Night’s Fury so tightly that my knuckles creak beneath my skin.

I let the instincts that I’ve been fighting all this time lead me now, fully opening myself up to them for the first time, and it’s like coming up for air after an eternity under water. I can feel her now, like a beacon in the darkest of night calling me home. I sprint through the melee, squinting through the smoke.

I finally see the outline of her carriage and crouched in front of it, a Revenant. Dahlia’s beneath it, cowering and bloody and rage and terror explode in my head. I move so fast that I swear I’ve somehow teleported. One second, I’m watching the Revenant reach towards my mate, and the next, I’m standing over his headless body, breathing hard and furious that his death had been so quick and painless. I wanted to make him suffer for days, weeks, years for daring to try to touch my Dahlia.

The fear is still pulsing from my mate, but something is off now, like the fear is becoming muted. It’s difficult to explain, but I know that something isn’t right. I drop to my knees and clench my jaw at the sight of her wound. Her arm is nearly severed completely, white bone standing out starkly against the crimson coating most of her body. I can tell within seconds that she’s lost entirely too much blood, her skin pale as death. Her eyes are wide, her pupils nearly overtaking the green completely, but they’re unfocused. She’s staring at me, but not seeing me, I know. This is why her fear seemed muted. Her mind is slipping, everything becoming too much for her to handle.

“Dahlia,” I say as gently as I can around the rage and fear and agony coursing through me. “Dahlia, look at me.” She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t blink. Shock. She’s in shock . Panic begins to claw at my throat. Human minds are fragile things. They can be broken beyond repair. But I have no idea how the fuck to help, how to pull her back. But I have to. I have to.

I somehow maneuver my big body beneath the carriage in front of her, knees sinking into the bloody earth. Her blood. My mate’s blood . I gnash my teeth and take a settling breath, forcing myself to be gentle as I reach forward. I cradle her face between my hands and there’s the tiniest flicker of something in her eyes.

“ Keeva ,” I say, the word a choked, broken whisper. Though she doesn’t say a word, I feel relief rush through her a moment before her eyes roll back and she slumps forward into my arms.

“Alaric!” Elias calls.

“Here! I’m here!” I reach above me, gripping the bottom of the carriage and shove it away. It flies into the air, landing on its side a hundred yards away. I hear Elias mutter holy shit as I gather Dahlia’s limp body in my arms, careful of her injury. It looks even more gruesome up close, and I take in her pale skin again. My heart races as real fear pumps through me. No, not fear. Utter terror .

She’s lost so much blood…

“Ah gods,” Elias says as he skids to a stop before us. “What the fuck happened?”

“She needs blood. Help me, Elias. Gods, please help me…” I’ve never felt so helpless or so afraid. I can’t lose her. I can’t. I won’t. Please, please, please.

Elias nods and puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. I slide to my knees, careful to keep Dahlia steady in my arms. Elias tilts Dahlia’s head back and opens her mouth. I bring my right hand to my mouth, slicing my wrist open with my fangs, and hold it over her lips. Blood pours down her throat and she coughs quietly, still unconscious.

“Come on, beauty. Drink,” I urge. I can feel death coming for her and know it will arrive soon if we don’t get enough of my blood in her to heal this injury, to replenish the blood she’s lost. Finally, even unconscious, her body responds as all humans instinctively do: she begins to drink. They know, on some deep, primal level, that a vampire’s blood is life itself, life eternal, and they crave it. Her throat works as she swallows mouthful after mouthful.

“That’s it,” I whisper. “That’s it, love. Come back to me.” I can feel Elias’ eyes on me, but I don’t care. She finally falls limp once more, head lolling to the side, but the blood has stopped flowing from her arm at least. Even vampire blood can only do so much with grievous injuries. She will heal, but it will take time, and she will not escape this day without a scar to remind her.

“Thank the gods,” Elias breathes. I whistle but realize that Xerxes is already trotting to me, worry for Dahlia pulsing from the horse as well. I manage to climb onto the saddle with Dahlia in my arms. I cradle her to my chest, the feeling of it so right that my whole body seems to glow with it, before turning to Elias. Without having to ask the question, my lieutenant gives me the answers I need.

“Three dead. Seventeen Revenants dispatched. Two fled the fray when you arrived, but Cyrus is in pursuit. One left alive for questioning.” That’s all I need to know for now. I’ll speak to the others later to get to the bottom of what in the fuck had happened here, but for now, I need to get my mate safely back to our home.

“Get things settled, gather the dead, and have everyone report to the war room in three hours.”

“Of course,” Elias nods. He gives me a long, knowing look, but says nothing else. He simply steps back, slaps Xerxes on the rump, and watches as I carry Dahlia away.

It’s been days and Dahlia still sleeps. I know that she’s not in any danger from her injury—that is nearly completely healed—but I worry about her mind. What she experienced…well, it would be enough to break any human. I know Dahlia is strong, but there is only so much a person can handle. I’ve checked in regularly, though I would have much preferred to stand a constant vigil at her bedside, and her Keeper assures me she is doing well, that she just needs time. The healer from the village says much the same. I know they are right, but every minute she remains asleep, alone in the darkness, a part of me dies.

I have put off the funeral rites for Isaiah, Kane, and Descartes for now. I believe that Dahlia would want to be there. She counted the men as more than just her guardians—they were her friends. Something about that catches at my heart. Any other Consort in her position would have seen them as nothing more than servants, vampires there to do her bidding. They would have been little more than objects to her. But Dahlia took the time to know them, to joke with them and drink with them and laugh with them. I think that speaks volumes about the kind of person she is and the kind of heart she has. It makes me…feel things for her. More than just mating instincts, but actual feelings that I don’t quite know how to express or explain. Fuck if I have any idea what that means.

I spoke with the remaining members of the guard, and their stories were all the same: the trip to the village was uneventful, no signs of anything amiss; no problems within the village; and then half way back to the camp, they came upon the tree across the road. I hardly even remembered Xerxes leaping over it in our haste to get to Dahlia, but I recalled it once the men spoke of it.

“We were sorting out how to move it from the road, sir, and they came upon us,” Viktor said as they sat around the war table the evening of the attack.

“There were no signs of them, no scent either, not until they stormed the road,” Malcom added.

“Perhaps they found a lesser wielder to do their bidding? To hide their scent?” Elias suggested.

“Perhaps,” I agreed, rubbing two fingers across my chin absentmindedly as I thought through everything. Full magic wielders had been gone for centuries, but there were those with fading bloodlines that gave them some magical abilities. They could do small things, like help your crops grow or give you luck at the dice tables—or, potentially, hide you in plain sight.

“Did any of them say anything?” I’d asked the group.

“Nothing, sir. Other than the usual ‘I’ll eat your heart’ or ‘fuck you, your rotting whoreson’ that comes with any battle.”

I remembered the female Revenant hissing that I wasn’t supposed to be there. So this attack had been planned for when I would be gone—they hadn’t counted on me riding to find Dahlia. I shuddered at the thought of what would have happened if I hadn’t. But why? The only obvious reason was for Dahlia, but no one knows how important she is to me except Elias…But it is no secret that she is my Consort. A Consort is a sacred title among the vampires in Braxhelm. To have one attacked and killed, especially the Consort of the High General himself…well, it would be a blemish to be sure. It would say to the entire continent and the whole of the Revenant army that I cannot protect what’s mine.

“Rest. Mourn your brothers. We will have rites once Dahlia awakens,” I’d told them.

They all inclined their heads. “Yes, sir,” Viktor said, and then added quietly, “How does she fare? Our Lady Dahlia?”

“She heals,” I’d told him, and he nodded, relief clear in his eyes. They care for her as well , I realized. The friendship extends both ways. Leave it to my mate to charm some of the most fearsome vampires in all of Braxhelm.

They’d all exited the room, leaving Elias and me alone.

“There’s no way…I mean, no one could know…”

“No,” I cut him off. “No one could possibly. I think Kilgren only meant to hurt my Consort, not my…mate,” I said quietly, still unused to saying the word out loud.

“That’s something at least,” he huffed out. “The prisoner is ready for questioning.”

I’d nodded and the two of us journeyed to a cave deep in the east Sister. The Revenant was shackled to the wall, the silver cuffs around her throat and upper arms filling the space with the stench of burning flesh—her missing hands made it hard to shackle her wrists, of course. Those chains were some of the last remaining bits of silver in the entire continent. One day, I hoped to wrap the damned things around Kilgren’s throat myself, to smile as they burned his flesh and rejoice in his screams of agony.

The Revenant lifted her head as we’d entered, baring her black fangs before spitting at my feet.

“I’ll tell you nothing, you leech! Torture me all you wish,” she’d said, defiance written in every line of her dirty, blood-stained face.

I’d bent down so that we were eye to eye. She met my gaze, but flinched backwards ever so slightly when she beheld the absolute lethal fury in my eyes. They had planned to take what was mine. They killed my men. They nearly killed my fucking mate.

They would pay.

“Thank you for the invitation,” I’d said in a deadly cold voice. “I accept.” The defiance faltered, fear flashing in her red eyes.

The interrogation did not last long.

In the end, the Revenant confirmed what I’d suspected: that Kilgren’s plan was to kill my Consort, knowing that would be a blow to not only my ego, but to the faith put in me by everyone in Braxhelm. She died before she could tell me how they’d managed it, unfortunately.

Now, I stare at the map on the massive table in the war room. I haven’t been able to figure out where the Revenants had come from. There are still nests of Revenants throughout Braxhlem, of course, but never in the Northlands, at least not this near the camp. My army constantly sweeps the area for leagues upon leagues in training exercises. There’s no possible way there have been any Revenants in this area before the attack.

So, where the fuck had these been hiding? Or had they somehow gotten through the pass undetected? The thought unsettles me more than any other option. I’ve worked so hard these years to keep that from happening. I set up my camp here for that sole fucking purpose. They’ve never found their way through before, so how had they possibly managed it now? The idea of a doorway is still in the back of my mind, but I can’t quite make myself fully accept it as a real option. It could explain it though…

Then there’s the question of how, exactly, they’d known when Dahlia would be on that road, away from me…

I rub my temples and clench my jaw. An obvious answer surfaces but I refuse to accept it. There is not a spy within my camp. Perhaps someone in the village…A low growl of annoyance rumbles through my chest. Not knowing is driving me mad. I’m going to attend the funerals for three of my men in just a few hours, and every time I think about how much worse it could have gone, what I could have lost…

“No,” I command myself. “Don’t think of it.”

“Don’t think of what? How much you love me?” Elias asks breezily from the doorway in his customary unflappable swagger. “That’s actually a physical impossibility.”

“Not in the mood, Elias,” I grind out. To my utter surprise, Elias sighs, a bit of the cocky ease draining out of him.

“I know. I know we are no strangers to death on the battlefield, but this feels different. And I can’t even imagine what you must have felt, what you must still be feeling. To have your mate in danger like that, hurt like that…” He shakes his head, paling slightly. “I’m glad she’s alright.”

I sit heavily in one of the high-backed chairs surrounding the table and put my head in my hands, running my fingers roughly through my hair. Elias comes around beside me, leaning back against the table.

“Is she though? How could she possibly be?” I ask. Sure, she’d healed physically because of my blood, but mentally ? I have no idea. Her Keeper informed me that she woke again several hours ago and seems…alright so far (she didn’t wake screaming this time, at least), but not knowing if she’s truly ok is killing me. I could feel her terror when she woke the first few times, memories probably clawing at her like a rabid beast, and there was nothing I could do to help her. Fucking nothing .

“She’ll come through this just fine, brother, I know it.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“And when she does?” Elias asks pointedly after a moment. “What are you going to do?”

“I…” I inhale deeply, letting it out slowly before answering. “I can’t stay away from her any longer. It’s…too hard,” I admit quietly, feeling weak and not appreciating the experience in the slightest. I drop my head into my hands. Elias smacks the back of my head, and I raise my chin slowly, staring at my oldest friend.

“Did you just smack your High General?” I ask slowly.

“I did. And I’ll do it again if you don’t stop being so stupid.” I arch a brow and Elias rolls his eyes. “She’s your mate . You were literally made for each other by the hand of fate itself. Of course being apart from her is difficult. Painful even, I’d bet. It’s because you aren’t meant to be away from her now that you’ve found her, you horse’s ass. You’re meant to be together, to complete and balance each other in every way.”

I think through his words, knowing that he’s right. I feel…whole when I’m near Dahlia. I feel right in a way I never have before. Only with her do I ever feel truly at ease and…happy. Yes, that’s the feeling I’ve had in the few brief moments I’ve allowed myself to be with her. True happiness.

“And you’re suddenly the mate expert?” I grumble.

“Ah you forget my parents. I’ve seen firsthand what mates mean to each other, what they can do for each other and be for each other.” His gaze shifts, looking across the room but I know he’s seeing far into the past, to a childhood surrounded by love and happiness. I’d known his parents as well—they were part of my father’s court and Elias had grown up in one of the manors on the Montclare property in Astoria’s Keep—and I still remember the waves of affection and loyalty and devotion that seemed to radiate from both of them, though of course I didn’t truly understand it at the time.

Elias focuses back on me again.

“So, yes, I’m a bit of an expert,” he says with a grin.

“Well, you’re partly right, I’ll admit. The draw to her is too much, so I won’t be keeping myself from her anymore. But…” I rub the back of my neck, “the urges that arise when she’s near are…strong. Too fucking strong.”

“So give into them,” Elias says with a shrug.

“I could fucking kill her! Easily. It would take one tiny mistake, one second of letting my control slip, and she’d be gone forever. She’s a human . There’s a reason that princes don’t bite or fuck humans! There’s a reason that mates are never humans.” I slam a fist down on the table, nearly splintering the great slab of oak.

“Yes, you could kill her, as easy as breathing,” he agrees easily, and I sputter.

“Not helpful,” I growl.

“But you won’t .” I might just throttle him and he must see it in my eyes because he cuts me off with a raised hand. “I don’t think you’d be physically able to hurt your mate. Your entire being would rebel against the idea, and the mating instincts would take over in the event your mind was…otherwise occupied. They are far stronger than our primal vampiric instincts to fuck and drink.”

I open my mouth, but snap it shut again, frowning. That…actually makes a bit of sense, I suppose. But is it worth the risk? Could I possibly put it to the test? I think to the attack, to seeing Dahlia coated in blood with her arm nearly severed, so near death that I could smell it on the air. I shudder and shove the images away. No, I couldn’t risk hurting her—or worse.

“For arguments sake, say I believe that. Say I believe I can give in to these urges and not hurt her…it doesn’t mean she’ll want me to. That’s the other reason mates are never human, Elias: humans don’t have mates. The mating bond can’t go both fucking ways if my mate isn’t a vampire.” It was something I’ve been thinking about all these months, from the moment I knew she was mine. In the deepest, darkest part of my mind where I allowed myself to think about claiming her as my mate, entertaining the idea of us being together, this fear slept: she might be mine, but I couldn’t be hers, not in the same way.

Elias gives me a secretive, knowing smile. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. Though, to be fair, you may have to work a bit to bring her around after ignoring her for months after you dragged her from her warm, loving home to a war camp in the Northlands surrounded by bloodthirsty vampires…” I punch him in the arm and he winces, but laughs. He rubs the spot and then, a bit more seriously, he adds, “Listen, just because she might not have the same instincts to call you her mate doesn’t mean that she can’t come to love you, Alaric.”

Love me.

Gods the warmth that those words send through my body and soul, like a low, soothing fire after too much time in the cold. Could she truly? I don’t know if it’s possible or if she would even want that, but I refuse to stay away from her any longer. I can control myself. I fucking will control myself. I won’t allow anything to happen between us other than…friendship, perhaps? Is such a thing possible? I think that it…is, actually. She’s smart and strong and cunning, with a sharp tongue and a quick wit that makes my lips quirk more often than not. She doesn’t act like a Consort or a noble, and I enjoy her all the more for it. She’s kind and generous—her Keeper told me of her arrangement with the apothecary in the village to pay for any medications or supplies that the villagers couldn’t afford—and is fiercely loyal to those she cares about.

Friendship? Gods I might be falling in love with her already.

I groan and put my head in my hands. Elias laughs and claps me on the shoulder.

“All will be well, my friend. All will be well.”