Page 24

ALARIC

I stand before the fire in the study, one arm propped on the mantle as I stare into the flames. I tilt my head when I hear footsteps in the house, catch Dahlia’s scent and hear the beating of her heart. Every nerve in my body stands at attention. I turn towards the door and see her open it just enough to slip inside, glancing back out into the hallway…as if she’s sneaking into the room? Is she trying to avoid me? Well, too late for that , I think as I brace myself for being so near her again. My body tenses even as it seems to sigh in utter contentment at the sight of her. Her hair spills down her back in loose waves of fire, and the thin robe and gown beneath do little to hide the shapely curve of her ass. I swallow hard and call on my control. I’ve been training myself, shoring up my defenses at it were, every day that I was gone, preparing for this new…relationship I’m going to attempt to cultivate with her.

No more avoidance. No more denying the bond. I may not be able to have my mate the way that I want, the way I need and crave, but I will have her in the only way I can, and that will have to be enough.

After she appears to be sure she hasn’t been followed or found out, she quietly pushes the door closed and exhales in relief, leaning her forehead against the wood. I arch a brow and wait, honestly curious what she’ll do when she realizes I’m here. Might as well find out .

“Good evening,” I say in a low, even tone.

She whirls, screaming and grabbing a small statue from the shelf next to the door. She hurls it towards my head with all her might. I move to the side easily and it slams into the stone of the fireplace with a loud crack, the pieces of marble flying in every direction. I blink and brush one from my shoulder.

“Fucking hells!” Her heart gallops in her chest, so loud I think the whole camp can probably hear it. She holds one hand to her chest and runs the other through her hair, pushing the strands away from her forehead.

“I didn’t mean to alarm you.” I realize now that I should have let her know I was here. The fear that flashed in her eyes for a moment before she processed who was standing across the room reminded me with a visceral punch what she’d been through so recently. She didn’t need to be startled. I want to kick myself for being so stupid.

“Ye scared the living shite out of me,” she says, breathless. My lips twitch as her brogue slips through more than usual.

“As opposed to the dead shite out of you?” I say, and to my surprise, after a moment, her lips curl up at the corners.

“I didn’t know you were in here.”

I study her for a moment, and realize that she’s surprised to see me in this room , not in general.

“But you knew I was back at the camp.” A statement, not a question. She nods.

“I felt it when you were close again. I guess with all the blood you gave me when you saved my life…well, the bond is stronger than it was after the Choosing. I could feel you gone like a bow string pulled too tightly, and I felt it when the tension eased.”

I assumed as much, but wasn’t sure quite how strong the bond had gotten on her end. She could sense my presence, it appeared, but could she sense my emotions? Gods I hope not.

We simply stare for a long moment, and too many things seem to be passing between us. Tension, fear, uncertainty…desire. I clear my throat, knowing I’ll have to get used to this and find a way to put it from my mind if this is going to work. She seems a bit unsure on what to do now, fiddling with the ring she always wears on her right index finger.

“I’ll…go. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No, that’s alright.” I take a deep breath. “Stay.” I deliberately try to make sure the word isn’t a command. I want it to be an invitation . She blinks in surprise and her pulse beats wildly at her throat. She studies me for a long minute and I realize I’m holding my fucking breath waiting for her to decide, but she finally nods.

“Alright then.” She makes her way towards the couch and I try to keep my eyes from dipping to her throat and lower. I fail, of course, and nearly growl at the sight of her nightgown. It’s thin silk, the color of a cloudless sky, with delicate lace lining the material that dips in a low V between her breasts. Again, the silk leaves so little to the imagination that I clench my fists at my sides, my nails digging deep furrows in my palms, blood pooling. I cross the room to pour a drink and wipe the blood away before she notices.

“Would you like a drink?” I turn and she quirks a brow, staring pointedly at the glass in my hand.

“I think I’ve had quite enough blood, thank you very much.”

My lips quirk ever so slightly.

“I have plain whisky. Sans blood.”

“Oh, then yes, please.” I pour another glass for her and cross back to the sofa. I hand her drink over and we both stand there awkwardly for a moment before she seems to shrug off the strange situation and settles onto the couch, pulling her feet up beneath her and pulling her robe closed. I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

“It is quite late, are you not tired?”

“I…haven’t been sleeping well.” After a moment she adds softly, “Nightmares.”

I want to kick myself. Of course she’s having trouble sleeping. She was attacked by creatures that strike fear into the hearts of even some of my most hardened soldiers. I should have foreseen the nightmares and done…something. I haven’t a fuck all idea of what, but I should have found a way to help her. Instead, I left. Again. Fuck . I know this is my job, my duty , but leaving her is becoming harder and harder to bear. How the fuck am I supposed to be the High General when I can barely stand to leave my mate behind? I take a long drink, knowing that I’ll have no answers tonight, so I try to push the thoughts away. I want to focus on this moment, this hopeful start to something real with Dahlia.

“I’m sorry,” I say, wishing she could possibly understand how much I mean the words. My duty might be to protect Braxhlem, but it’s also to protect my mate from anything and everything, even from things as intangible as nightmares.

“It isn’t your fault,” she says, taking another sip of her drink. But it is , I think. All of it .

“And how is your training going then?”

“The last two weeks have been…what is the opposite of fun? They’ve been whatever that is.” I hide my smile behind my glass as I take another sip of my drink. “But I’m going to start learning actual weapons and fighting tomorrow. I was hoping that meant no more early morning exercise sessions, but I’ve been assured those will continue and weapons and fighting will be in the afternoon.” She rolls her eyes.

I laugh lightly and she smiles.

“You don’t enjoy rising before the sun, I take it?”

“I believe loathe entirely is a more accurate statement of my feelings on the matter…but I’ll admit that I already feel stronger for it.” She takes another drink and we slip into another somewhat awkward silence.

“You come here to read then? To distract yourself from sleeping?”

“How did you know…?” Her brow furrows.

“Your scent is all over the room,” I say lightly, though it had hit me like a battering ram when I’d first entered. It was everywhere, surrounding me, and it was like coming home and the most exquisite torture all rolled up together.

“Oh. Right, of course,” she says, shaking her head. “I, uh, hope that’s alright?”

“This is as much your study as it is mine now.” She holds my gaze and I get the feeling that she’s trying to stare right to the heart of me, to break down every wall and defense I have and strip me bare before her.

“Something’s changed,” she finally says and my heart stutters in my chest. She can’t possibly know the truth…can she?

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she says, twisting on the couch so that she’s facing me. I don’t even notice how the movement makes her robe and nightgown ride up, baring her thigh, the soft, smooth skin...No. I don’t notice it at fucking all. Control, control, control , I chant, calming myself. “That you avoided me for months and months, and now you aren’t. Something had to have changed.”

“I…” How the fuck to answer this? I don’t want to lie. I can’t tell her the truth. Not the whole truth anyway, but perhaps a portion of it. “I tried to handle the situation as other princes would have, keeping our lives separated, but as I told you before—I’m not like other princes. So, I don’t want to handle this situation as they would.”

“And that means…?”

I take a long, slow breath, bracing myself before I answer. Here it goes then.

“It means…that I don’t want to avoid you any longer.”

She inhales softly and my eyes dart to her lips, the way they part slightly as she breathes, the way the top one forms a perfect bow, the way the bottom is full and practically begging to be pulled between my teeth…I force my eyes back up to meet hers and wait. What will she think? What will she say? I’m equally excited and terrified to find out.

“Alright then.” Such a simple answer, but as her lips curl upward, my chest warms.

“Alright then,” I echo.

She nods her head once and then rises from the couch, going to the bookcase beside the fire and running her fingers gently along the spines until she finds one that sparks her interest. She pulls the volume and glides back to the sofa, that easy sway in her hips that makes it hard to breathe—and keep my hands to myself. She curls up again and begins to read without another word. I blink but decide this is a much better start to this new situation than I could have hoped for, so I simply pick my own book up off of the low table before us and begin to read as well.

It's…nice. Calming. We read for what feels like hours, the only sounds the fire popping and crackling, our soft breathing, and her heart beat lulling me into utter contentment like a babe. I steal a glance at her from the corner of my eye and find her completely engrossed in her book. The firelight dances across her face, the flames’ reflections sparking in her green eyes. She absently toys with a lock of hair, twirling it around her finger again and again. Gods, she’s beautiful.

“Do you need blood?” she asks after a while, startling me.

“No, no, you’re still healing, you?—”

“Alaric,” she says, and the sound of my name on her lips makes my blood heat, my chest clench. She closes her book and holds my gaze. There’s a fierce determination there that calls to me. “I am fine. I am perfectly healed. And I am also your Consort and it’s my duty to give you blood. Let me do it.” I hold her gaze and I see no fear, no trepidation, only stone-hard resolve.

“Alright,” I finally say, moving closer to her across the sofa. She holds out her wrist and I take it gently, barely suppressing a shudder at the feel of her soft skin beneath my fingertips. Her pulse beats quickly, thrumming against my thumb like a hummingbird’s wings. I slice a quick gash and she barely even flinches, her gaze still locked with mine. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This isn’t good. She looks like…like she wants…No. I clench my jaw and force control through every inch of me. I add her blood to my glass but don’t release her wrist…and she doesn’t pull away. Again, I keep my gaze on hers as I lift the glass to my lips and drink. Only then do my eyes slide closed, the taste of her blood on my tongue like fucking heaven. Fire licks through my veins, Dahlia filling every fiber of my being.

She’s my lifeline. She’s my heartsblood. She’s mine.

“I knew an old drunkard in the village where we lived before we took the title,” she says quietly. I crack open my eyes and meet her gaze, having no idea where she might be going with this. “There was a beat of time when he swore off the stuff, though. Didn’t touch a drop for months and months. But I saw him the day he broke, the moment the alcohol hit his lips after all that time. It was like agony and ecstasy all at once, like he was stepping foot into heaven and hell at the same time.” Her eyes flick to my lips for a quick moment before she lifts them to mine once more. “That’s what you look like right now. You have that same look on your face.”

I exhale roughly. “Fresh, true blood is quite different than the replicated version. It’s…intense.”

I realize I still have her hand, am still tracing slow circles on her wrist with my thumb, and something heavy and hot suddenly surrounds us. My fangs are still out, my heart thundering in my chest and my blood thundering in my ears.

“I think…” Her eyes dip to my lips again and she wets her own before yanking her gaze back up. She clears her throat softly. “I think I should go to bed.”

I force myself to release her hand and shove that heavy heat away.

“Of course. I can walk you?—”

She stands quickly and backs away from the sofa, towards the door. I narrow my eyes ever so slightly. There’s desire coming through the bond between us in waves strong enough to swallow even the most stalwart of ships. Is it just because of the blood I gave her? Does that cause her to…feel things for me that she wouldn’t normally feel? Or…

“No, that’s ok. Really. I’ll, uh, see you…tomorrow?” There’s a hope in her voice that sets my chest aflame again. She wants to see me again like this.

I nod. “Tomorrow.”

“Good night, Alaric,” she says as she opens the door.

“Goodnight, Keeva,” I say quietly just before she slips into the hallway.

I scrub a hand across my face and run my fingers through my hair. How the fuck could sitting in the study, reading beside Dahlia be one of the best nights I’ve had in centuries?

“And I’m doing it again tomorrow,” I say to the flames, a slow smile spreading across my lips.