Chapter Twenty
Samara
The next round was different.
It was worse.
The one after? Not much better. I didn’t lose every round, but my winning streak came to a stark end. Silver dwindled in front of me, while Raphael barely bothered stacking his new piles as he cast another throw.
And it was the final throw, because he had enough to win the round.
“I guess no one’s lucky forever,” I groused, pushing the final silver piece I’d held on to away.
“No one likes a sore loser,” Raphael chided.
“Sore?” I huffed. “That’s hardly being sore. Sore would be if I tried to renege because I swear you did something to those dice.” Seriously, how could it go so badly? Granted, I didn’t have a ton of experience playing games—Greymere wasn’t exactly the place for it. But it seemed odd.
Demos quickly plucked the dice from between the silver and set them in their velvet pouch. “There’s nothing wrong with the dice.” He sounded a touch defensive.
“Of course,” I said, hiding a yawn behind my palm. “How long am I to wait for this mysterious boon you want?”
Raphael stood. “It’ll be sooner than you think.”
I pressed into the table to rise as well. Ouch. My legs had stiffened after sitting for a couple hours at the table. I hadn’t noticed. Not just because I was sitting, but perhaps because I’d been so focused on the game.
Perhaps because I’d had fun.
My leg spasmed when I tried to put more weight on it. I shifted onto my palms, the wood creaking beneath me.
Raphael’s hand was outstretched to help me. I ignored it. I was stiff, not injured. I didn’t need help.
I followed him through the inn, up to the top floor. He pushed the door open and held it while I went inside. A small fire was lit in the corner, but I didn’t need it to see clearly. It was cozy, with a large bed. My bags were placed in front of the bed on a large trunk.
Raphael moved to a side table with a carafe I hadn’t noticed yet. He poured into an empty goblet—no prize for guessing the contents. Blood.
He extended it toward me. “Here.”
I wrinkled my nose. “It smells even worse than usual.”
“It’s animal blood. Out here, there aren’t many donors.”
Animal blood. I swished it in the cup. The smell really was foul. But if it did come from animals, was it any worse than eating meat? I should be glad I wasn’t taking from another person.
But when I lifted it to my lips, I still hesitated, my throat squeezing.
“It’s this or mine, Samara. You haven’t had any significant amount of blood today.”
Naturally, he’d noticed I had barely taken a sip downstairs. The memory of his blood on my lips hit me low in the stomach. He was close now. Close enough I had to force myself to tilt my chin back and hold his gaze instead of looking at the column of his throat.
I hated him for it. For the way every part of my body drew to alertness when he was close, the way I felt like I was going into battle and the way I ached to sink my fangs into his bare throat even though I’d been fine moments ago.
“Of course, if you did drink my blood, you’d best not let another vampire know.”
The lecture wasn’t going to stop until I emptied it in front of him. I pressed my lips to the rim and tipped back, drinking as quickly as I could to beat the gag that threatened to block any further swallowing. I held Raphael’s gaze the entire time, challenging him to continue.
Finished, I let the empty vessel hang by my side. My tongue traced the edges of my lips, wiping away any remnants of blood.
Raphael watched.
I glanced to the door meaningfully. Time for him to go to his own chambers. But Raphael didn’t move. He just poured some blood for himself and sipped, looking me up and down.
“Remember that boon I won earlier?”
I folded my arms, goblet tapping against my elbow. I wanted to crawl under the bed and get off my feet. “As I haven’t had any head injuries in the past ten minutes, I do.”
For some reason, that made him grin. “Seems my viper’s got a sharp tongue when she loses.”
“Don’t worry about my tongue, worry about my copper blade, because if I’m not off my feet soon, I may well use it on anyone between me and rest,” I groused. “What do you want, Raphael?”
“Your legs hurt.”
Just the mention made me rub the side of my thigh. “Yes. I’m not used to riding like you are. You know that.”
He set his goblet down and took a step forward. “I’m going to make it better, little viper. Get on the bed.”
He pulled the goblet from my hand, and I barely noticed. I was too busy trying to put together the words get, on, and bed in an order that didn’t mean what it sounded like it meant.
“Come now, it’s not long till dawn,” he said. “Onto the bed, viper.”
“I beg your pardon, but what kind of boon have you deluded yourself into thinking you’re getting?” I demanded, my cheeks hot.
He grinned. “I’m going to massage your legs. I know, the bed makes things confusing, but it’s not the kind of boon you would have wanted to ask for if you’d won.”
I gasped. “I would have never asked for something… something untoward.”
I might have imagined it. For a moment. But it was his fault for planting the thought in my head if I had.
His grin was now a smirk. “I said wanted to ask, not that you would’ve had the courage to do so.
” I was still sputtering when he continued, “Besides, it makes sense. You wanted to see how the horses had to be cared for, right? Rubbed down so their muscles won’t be so sore tomorrow? This is the same thing.”
“So now I’m Alphonse in this scenario?” I grumbled.
He arched a brow. “Actually, Old Molly. A grumpy mare, ready to trample me.”
“Too bad you can’t bribe me with sugar cubes,” I retorted.
“I don’t need to bribe you. You agreed to the bet. I won.” He took a step closer, peering down at me under thick lashes. “Am I going to have to toss you on that bed to collect?”
He was joking, surely? I looked at his eyes again.
No. He wasn’t joking.
I swallowed, my chest bindings suddenly feeling too tight. “I want set parameters. This is all taking place over my breeches.” Even that concession was almost impossible to get out without looking away.
Raphael’s eyes went wide. “I would never suggest something so untoward as pulling your clothing off for this. Is that what you imagined for your boon?”
I ground my teeth. I wasn’t going to let him weasel out of a real answer. “Agreed?”
“Agreed. Onto the bed.”
I walked over to the bed and sat. “And you stay below the knee.”
That wouldn’t be so bad, right?
“Are your calves the only part of you that’s sore?” he countered.
My thighs and hindquarters were killing me. “Raphael, be reasonable.”
“I’m the picture of reason,” he countered.
“You’re drinking animal blood because you insist on it.
That means you’ll recover more slowly. You’re learning to ride at an aggressive pace, in uneven terrain.
The soreness has had time to settle. The pain will be much worse tomorrow, even with your healing.
What’s unreasonable is sitting there with your boots on like you can run out the clock. ”
He made it sound so sensible. In that tone of voice, it might’ve seemed entirely rational to strip naked for him.
“Legs only,” I said, even as he stepped close. I had to lift my chin to look at him when he reached the edge of the bed.
“Deal.”
I unlaced and set my boots aside. For whatever reason, my fingers shook undoing the laces. I yanked on the boot, but it caught on my heel. Damn shoe—
Suddenly Raphael knelt before me. He grabbed my calf with one hand and used his long, pale fingers to loosen the cord.
“I can manage on my own,” I said. My hands curled into fists at my side, my chest tight at the sight of Raphael kneeling before me, hand still firm on my thigh as he pulled the boot off.
“Of course you can.” He switched to my other foot and quickly unthreaded the laces.
The boot fell beside the other. Raphael tipped his head up, looking at me. Hand still on me. The sturdy fabric suddenly felt damningly thin.
We’d ridden together for days now. I tried to convince myself this contact was no different, but every part of my body registered the difference. I could imagine what else his steady touch could do.
“On your back now,” Raphael commanded.
I thought about protesting. About refusing him. But a deal was a deal, and the sooner he started, the sooner it would all be over.
I pulled my legs up and, slowly, lowered to my elbows.
“Is the bed uncomfortable?” he asked.
I shifted around. “No, it’s not that.” It wasn’t overly comfortable, to be sure. There was a lump under my left shoulder no matter which way I turned. “It’s just…”
“Being in a bed at all?” he guessed.
A short jerk of my chin. “I know it’s silly.” Pathetic, more like.
Raphael rose onto the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, his presence surrounding me. The large bed was also suddenly much smaller. Especially when he peered down on me, our roles reversed from just a moment ago.
“Samara, you went through a trauma as a child. It leaves a scar. That isn’t silly.”
I looked away. It was too much to confess something so shameful and have him look at me with tenderness. Contempt would have been easier to bear. “It’s silly because you’re here, right? You would… you would keep me safe.”
He moved closer. The baseboard creaked, the only sound save for the crackle of the fire. “I would. I would rip them all apart gladly before they could step foot through the threshold.” He paused. “But there’s something you forget, Samara.”
My mind raced—They aren’t here, but they wouldn’t dare while I’m around, but the guards would ensure they wouldn’t get this far. All reasons the panic that coated my skin, sick and sticky while I lay here, was irrational.
He planted his hands on either side of me, caging me in. “If they came for you now, you could kill them yourself.”
I was still reeling when he pulled back, adjusting himself so my calf was in his lap. It wasn’t the same firm touch as when he’d helped with my boots before. This touch lingered, tracing around my muscle. I bit into my lip, staring at him.