CHAPTER FOURTEEN #3
No one talks about the addictive qualities of vampire blood. Because for sigilmarked and mundanes to fall prey to such a weakness is intolerable. Vampires already have more than enough power over the rest of us.
And yet there are those among us who would sell their souls for just one more taste. For the buzzing in their veins, the sudden rush of pleasure, the healing of wounds both large and small.
I knew the first time I took Tiernon’s blood all those years ago that I could easily follow in my mother’s footsteps. Addiction thrives in the dark places. The places we want to escape. And my life has always been filled with dark places.
As soon as I feel the pain in my ankle subside, I force myself to lift my head.
Drinking someone’s blood is intimate. Before Bran, the only other blood I’d ever tasted was Tiernon’s. And the memories itch at the back of my mind.
I hit the ground hard and roll, pain slicing across my forearm. When I make it to my knees, Leon is giving me a hard look.
“What did I tell you, Arvelle?”
“Expect the unexpected.” I narrow my eyes at Kassia. “Just how long did you practice that?”
She gives me a grin. “Hours. Since it obviously works, I’ll teach you.”
Leon’s lips twitch, and he shakes his head at us. “We’re done.” A glance at Kassia. “Be home for dinner.”
Slinging her sword into her sheath, she crosses over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I have things to do. See you both later.”
She winks at me and saunters off. I roll my eyes. I know exactly where she’s going, and who she’s seeing.
When I turn, Tiernon is leaning against the wall in the shade surrounding the training arena. Our eyes meet, but his gaze immediately drops to my arm.
“You’re hurt.” His voice is sharp—as if my pain has caused him personal offense.
“I’m fine. My fault for not expecting the unexpected.” I grin at him. Blood drips from my forearm, and I pull a bandage from the wad in my pocket. “You shouldn’t be out in the sun. I know it hurts you.”
Tiernon ignores that. Despite the pain, he refuses to allow his transition to take the sun from him until the moment he can no longer tolerate it. Until it becomes deadly. My heart twists at the thought.
His eyes are dark, and I bite my lower lip as his gaze drops to my mouth, but it’s not that craving I’m worried about.
“Do you need a moment?”
His lips curve. “Are you asking me if I can control myself around the scent of your blood?”
“Well … yes.”
He takes a single step closer, and I blow out a shaky breath. “I won’t lie,” he murmurs. “You smell delectable. But I just fed. I’m more concerned with the depth of that cut.”
I stare at him blankly and his lips peel back from his fangs—already so much longer and sharper than ever before. He rips into his own wrist with those teeth, and the movement is so sudden, so unapologetically vampiric, that I stumble backward.
Tiernon freezes, and his eyes darken. “I can hear your heart racing. Don’t fear me, Arvelle. I’m … I’m a predator now. And it excites me.”
If he thinks those words will help calm my fear, he’s crazy. I slice a glance over my shoulder, but he’s instantly standing in front of me.
“You know I’d never hurt you,” he says. “Deep down you know. Now drink.”
My breath hitches. It’s rare that Tiernon lets me see a glimpse of his true self. Ever since he began transitioning, he’s been careful to suppress his increased speed, his incredible strength. It’s felt as if he was just a sigilmarked or mundane … one who can no longer visit me during the day.
I study his face. I’ve traced every inch of it with my fingertips, know it almost as well as I know my own. And I catch a glimpse of something in his eyes.
He hasn’t been pretending nothing has changed for himself. No, he was doing it for me. His wrist—still dripping blood and held so close to my lips … it’s an offering. A question. Will I accept him as he is? Will I accept who he is becoming?
With a shaky breath, I drop my head, pulling his wrist to my mouth. Ti lets out a soft groan, burying his free hand in my hair.
The taste of him explodes through my mouth.
Tiernon must be remembering, too, because he strokes my hair back behind my ear.
“All this time I thought leaving you had smashed my heart into pieces, and I’d be picking shards from my chest until the day I died.
But my heart wasn’t smashed. I left it with you, and you’ve held it hostage ever since. ”
There’s a faint ringing in my ears, a hollowness in my chest, a numbness overtaking the euphoria from his blood.
I’ve wanted to hear those words since the day he left. But I don’t understand him.
“Why? Why did you leave me?”
I hate how small my voice sounds. How … vulnerable.
Tiernon’s expression twists, but he raises his wrist to my mouth. “Drink more,” he urges.
“Yes, continue,” Rorrik purrs. “I do love to watch.”
I lift my head and meet his eyes. He lounges against the doorway, his body half hidden in shadow. I didn’t hear him open the door. And if Tiernon didn’t either, Rorrik must have used his power to conceal his movements.
Rorrik takes in the tears still fresh on my face, his gaze slowly traveling down to my fingernails, practically embedded in Tiernon’s arm, and my ankle, covered with blood.
“What are you doing in here?” Tiernon snaps.
I shove my elbow into Tiernon’s ribs. Even with the power he wields here, annoying the emperor’s son seems like a stupid idea.
“I sensed pain and blood,” Rorrik says. “And you know those are two of my favorite things, Primus.”
His gaze returns to me once more, dark consideration in his eyes.
“Fine,” Tiernon says. “Leave.”
Rorrik drags his gaze from mine and they have another of their weird silent standoffs.
Pushing Tiernon’s arm away, I sit up. He reaches for me, but I’m already rolling off the bed, stepping onto my freshly healed ankle.
For the first time since I can remember, the step I take is completely free of pain.
A stunned laugh bubbles from me. A sound filled with shocked joy. One I haven’t made for years.
Both vampires stare at me.
I can’t deny this is a gift.
“Thank you.”
Tiernon meets my eyes. “You’re welcome.”
When I turn back toward the door, the emperor’s son is gone.
IT’S LATE WHEN Axia checks my other cuts and bruises, before finally allowing me to leave the healers. I now feel better than I have in years.
Physically, at least.
“Arvelle.” Tiernon’s voice is soft, almost pleading. Slowly, I turn, taking him in.
He leans against the doorway leading to the healers, his helmet nowhere to be seen.
He looks … tired. When he shoves his hand through his hair, the movement is so familiar, I have to look away.
“You’re always doing that,” he says softly. “You can’t even look at me.”
I sigh, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Looking at you hurts.” The words are honest, blunt, and a muscle twitches in his jaw as he nods.
“Looking at you hurts me too.” He pushes himself off the doorway and steps toward me. “I thought you were going to die today.”
“I thought I was too.”
He raises one hand, cupping my cheek. “You’re so damned stubborn.
You think you’re some kind of heartless monster, but the moment I knew you’d be forced to kill that griffon was the moment I thought you were going to die.
But you did it. So you can stay alive for your brothers.
I just wanted to let you know I know how hard it was for you. ”
The backs of my eyes burn and I let the wall take my weight. Tiernon smooths his thumb over my chin, and I want to lean into his warmth and forget the rest of the world exists.
“It … it wasn’t just for my brothers,” I whisper.
Tiernon frowns at me and lifts a hand. I feel his power slide into place, ensuring no one can listen.
“Tell me.”
“The griffon … his name was Antigrus. He asked me for mercy, Ti. He didn’t want Baldric to cut him up piece by piece.”
Tiernon’s eyes darken, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve called him by his nickname.
My heart hurts, and I’m all out of fight. Which is why I let Tiernon move his hand to the back of my head, winding his fingers through my hair. It’s why I let him lower his head, slowly brushing his mouth over mine.
And it’s why I let him gently coax my lips apart, teasing my tongue with his own.
Tiernon tastes different and familiar all at once. He tastes like lost dreams and a thousand sleepless nights. He tastes like young love and bitter heartbreak.
He tastes like salt.
“Shhh.” Tiernon brushes tears from my cheeks. I sniff, hiccup, and attempt to push him away. But he doesn’t let go. “Just let me hold you, Velle. Just for a few moments more.”
I allow it. No, I do more than allow it.
I take his comfort and soak in it, bask in it.
Drinking his blood once more … it’s cracked open that door between us again—the one I’d wedged closed.
I lean my head against his chest and breathe him in.
His arms encircle me and his chin rests on my head, the position so achingly familiar, I choke on a sob.
Tomorrow, I’ll shore up my defenses once more. Today, I’ll take the comfort he offers.
But we can’t stand here all night. I’m not sure how long I allow myself to rest against him. But my sobs turn to sniffles, my sniffles turn to long, even breaths. I’m perilously close to falling asleep standing up, and Tiernon’s arms lock around me as I sway against him.
“Time for bed,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl as his chin moves against the top of my head.
I want to ask him what happened to his voice. As much as I’ve pretended not to care, I’m almost desperate to know why he sounds so different. Why he no longer sounds like my Ti.
That thought cuts through me, and I wriggle until Ti—no, Tiernon—releases me.
He’s not my Ti any longer. My Ti would never have left me without an explanation. And he sure as hell would never have gone this long without telling me why he abandoned me.
“I need to sleep.”
He nods, releasing me. Dark blue eyes study my face, turning bleak, and then empty.
“Good night.”
He turns and walks away without another word.
Letting out a long, shaky breath, I do the same, making my way back toward the gladian barracks. It’s late enough that there’s no one else around. Late enough that I could climb into bed and pretend I’m just a woman with complicated feelings for a man.
But I’m not. I’m a gladian who was helpless today. A gladian who was forced to hope for the emperor’s thumb to turn upward. The only reason I’m alive is because Rorrik likely wants to play with me before he kills me. Wants me to squirm and scream before I meet my end.
My life hung in the balance, dependent solely on the emperor’s thumb. It all could have been over within seconds. And my brothers would have died shortly after.
Soft snores greet me as I crack open the door to our barracks. I close it behind me, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. Letting myself into the small bathing room attached to the bedroom, I take a quick shower. At least the aether stones here never run out.
I rub at the condensation on the mirror. For the first time in days, I force myself to meet my own eyes. My face is pale beneath the few freckles scattered across my nose and cheeks, the skin beneath my green eyes dark and sunken. But—
I wipe at a drop of water dripping from my hairline, and my breath catches in my throat, my hand trembling as I stare at my sigil.
I know the elegant gold mark like I know the back of my hand. I spent years staring at it in the mirror, willing it to grow. Begging for power that could make me strong. Could keep me and my brothers safe.
All I wanted was for the gold to spread. For my sigil to show some signs of growth.
And for the first time in my life, it has.