Chapter 35 Lia
Lia
“What would make you do that?” Arctos asked evenly—as if they hadn’t just cheated death, as if they weren’t divided by animosities and secrets. “Explain why you would choose to end your life.”
Lia almost retreated from the confession. Would he look down on her for the actions of another? Creepy. Wrong. Family.
Then she caught the flash of turmoil in his eyes and forced herself forward.
“Because I was prey,” she said softly. “And prey runs where the hunter can’t follow. I was so tired, and that ray of light promised many things in my mind.”
“Who was hunting you?”
“Co?tin.” His name came foul from her tongue. “He’d chased me before, but that day—I could feel it. More malice. More intent. He told me if he pierced my jugular, my blood might restart his heart. And would probably have killed me.”
Arctos went still. “Your brother, Prince Co?tin.”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “He thinks I’m his mate.”
“But he’s been the walking dead since he became immortal in his thirties. That was centuries ago.” Arctos’s gaze narrowed. “You didn’t blood him.”
“No. Thank gods. His heart and lungs and other…systems remain as dormant as ever.” When a Bride blooded a male, every part of him resurrected from the deathlike state of his unique vampire immortality.
The lust he’d forfeited would surge back all at once—overwhelming and demanding release.
The prospect had terrified her. “Co?tin believes I’m too young to blood him. ”
“That can happen, but it’s rare,” Arctos said, frowning. “Usually only across species.”
“Yes. Even if I had blooded him, that would only mean I’m his fated ideal, not that I’d ever feel the same. He repels me.” She lifted her chin. “I could not despise him more.”
“What happened after?”
“When my father discovered my gift, he valued me enough to forbid Co?tin from physically harming me.” A brittle laugh escaped her.
“Yet my brother’s gaze followed me. For years I hid in the library or my room.
He waited. Then Father conceived of the crypt scheme, and Co?tin assumed he would be sealed in with me.
When he learned Father intended to sell the spaces instead, he raged.
Said the crypt wasn’t invulnerable and that if he couldn’t have me, no one would.
” She met Arctos’s gaze. “My choices became clear: leave Bloodreach or die there.”
“Did you tell anyone about the threat?”
“Yes.” The word scraped. “My parents dismissed it. Guards did nothing. Siblings didn’t care or wouldn’t cross the future king.”
Arctos cursed low.
“In the moments when you’ve been decent to me,” she whispered, “guilt strangled me. He will come for me. It’s one reason I left tonight. Because when he does, he’ll kill you because of this ‘marriage.’”
“The fuck he will.” Arctos began to pace, the firelight casting his shadow across the den. “How would he reach you here? You now know what those ravines are like. Enemies have never overcome them.”
“He can’t trace, but a demon could help him. One who could teleport or fly.”
“Teleporters can only trace to places they’ve been before, and we never allow any but the most trusted into our inner sanctum. Any who fly over will be shot down by our archers.”
“I don’t want to put your people in danger.” She worried the hem of her gown. “I’m bait for him.”
Arctos stopped pacing to gaze down at her. “He’d have to be taught the way in. Berserkers and trusted demons won’t betray our map. Who would possibly show an insane vampire prince the path?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “Nightmares are resourceful. They always find ways to come true.”
***
Arctos
The haunted look in Emilia’s eyes shattered his last doubts. No one could feign that. And the tells had always been there.
Her shock that Arctos wouldn’t crawl into bed with her.
Her surprise that he wasn’t interested in her for sex.
The venom in her voice whenever she spoke of Co?tin.
Want to tear that fucking ghoul apart.
Arctos somehow leashed his rage to say, “I believe you. And I understand your actions now.”
Her shoulders dipped. “Do you think less of me because of my family?”
“No.” A beat. “But I don’t yet know how to think of you.”
“What do we do now? I don’t expect free rein, but being cut off from everything is…hard.” The quaver in her voice clearly embarrassed her. “I heard the laughter at court earlier, and I’ve never felt so alone.”
He grasped that. But he had to be realistic. “Can you control your prey drive? Everything I know says that eventually you’ll feel the pull to bite. Would you be drawn to someone vulnerable? A child?”
“I’m different in other ways,” she said quickly. “Maybe I’ll never feel it. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“It’s a risk to my people. Do you know of any vampires who’ve tried to control it?”
“Some live on animal blood for a time. Most go back.” She hesitated. “I hoped to locate abstainers in Umber.”
“You’ve got an idea of that territory in your mind, but you would only find misery there, from the warlock uplands to the Faeholt border.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Before you plan another escape, I’ll contact friends. I’ll look for vampires that live peacefully among others.”
“And until then?” she asked. “You can’t live like this.”
“We do what our queen demands.” The words were ash. And if she demands Emilia’s head? He buried that thought.
“Even if Yrsa won’t liberate your people in Bloodreach?” she asked bluntly. “I thought once I smuggled word out about them, your clan would act. It would be easy for you to free them, just as you took me.”
“I continue to speak with the queen on the subject. Governance takes time.”
“My abduction didn’t. Nadje fed Inkletter information, and you were in my bedroom not long after.”
“Nevertheless.” The warning in his voice would have straightened any warrior under his command. Changing the subject, he said, “You can have a haven here, and I’ll advocate for you. We will find some kind of common ground.”
She nibbled her lower lip with a fang, reminding him of how risky even these concessions were. “You and I both know there’s no point pretending at marriage.”
“I’m not proposing we make it true. But I won’t publicly embarrass you again.” He held her gaze. “All I ask is that you let me know if you ever feel bloodlust. We’ll deal with it. But you don’t keep that from me.”
A long moment stretched between them. Then she nodded, small and solemn. “I’ll tell you.”
He studied her face—drained but resolute, as if she’d already weathered too many battles for one night. The fire painted her skin in trembling light.
“Good,” he said gruffly, turning away to throw another log on the flames. Sparks jumped like startled bees.
“Arctos,” she murmured. “I never meant for you to risk your life tonight. But…thank you for coming for me.”
The words landed harder than any blow. He looked back, found her gaze luminous with exhaustion and drink—and something else he couldn’t name.
“I’ll always protect you. Marriage in truth or not, I will defend you.” But as he spoke, the reality sank in like a blade; Yrsa’s wrath was an unknown.
Arctos couldn’t yet decide which fate posed more jeopardy: risking the vampire he’d once hated or defying his queen to keep her.
***
Lia
Arctos’s fears about blood drinking were well-founded—in other vampires.
But she didn’t have bloodlust. Not like them. She didn’t want it. Not like them. I always was contrary.
Tonight she’d told this Berserker her secret, and he seemed to believe her. She’d even sensed his guilt beneath that rough voice of his, remorse for his earlier harsh treatment.
“You should get some rest,” he said. “You must be exhausted.”
She was. She’d eaten nothing at her lonely supper, and the vodka—her first encounter with spirits—had gone straight to her head. The cave actually spun a bit. “Will you be returning to your…nymph?” she asked before she could stop herself. Too late to pretend she didn’t care.
“I’ll remain, in case you need something.”
Relief—sharp and unwelcome—flared. “Thank you.” She turned toward the bedroom but stopped at the threshold to find him staring at the flames with a pensive repose. “Arctos…”
He looked up. “Yes?”
“One day, I hope that we can be friends.” The word tasted strange. Almost dangerous.
“Maybe that’s possible.” His tone was low, noncommittal.
“Let’s take it as it comes.” He turned back to the fire, but his shoulders had gone taut, his fists clenched.
The steady rhythm of his heartbeat quickened—strong and resonant.
What thoughts made him react so intensely?
Beside the damp hair at his neck, she spied his jugular throb.
Odd. As the cave spun, she couldn’t seem to look away from that pulsing line of his throat.
Then a sublime new thread hit her nose. Her gaze darted to lock on the source: one of his clenched hands. He must’ve cut himself with a nail because a drop of blood welled at the base of a fist, bulbous and gleaming in the firelight.
For the first time in her life, her fangs sharpened. And dear gods, how they ache. They throbbed in time with his heartbeat.
The scent of that single drop steeped the air, rich and dizzying. She rubbed her tongue on one razored fang. Pain. Blood. The shot of crimson filling her mouth was…everything.
Creepy. Wrong.
But everything.