25. 23
23
Thorn
T he blood thrums hot beneath my skin as I tidy my chamber. I can feel the thirst rising, that restless itch that signals the need to feed will soon be upon me. The copper kettle begins to steam over the fire, reassuring me that relief is near. The dried petals I purchased last night at the festival market float atop the steaming water, infusing their vibrant color and earthy aroma. No actual blood goes into this brew, only flowers, herbs, and magic, but it will grant me the same respite and strength.
A pang of discomfort shoots through me, and I pause mid-motion, frowning. What was that? I reach inward with my senses, prodding my own magical energy gently. There. Another pulse, like a plucked string, reverberates at my core .
Realization dawns swiftly. Draven. Our bond thrums with his unspoken call, transmitting sensations and emotions whether I wish it or not.
Cursing under my breath, I reinforce my mental shields, trying to block out the unwelcome connection. I want no part of this “destined” entanglement, no matter what sweet words and promises he uses to tempt me.
I’ve spent decades perfecting the art of solitude, remaining aloof and untethered. The last thing I desire is some mystical vampire bond threatening to tie me down again, forcing unwanted intimacy. Better to sever this thread between us before it strengthens any further. Before either of us gets hurt more deeply.
Another pulse ripples through me, and I clench my jaw, fighting the reflexive urge to listen, to soothe, to go to him. I never asked for this.
With ruthless effort, I force his intrusive presence from my mind, rebuilding my walls stone by silent stone.
Peace. I need peace to think and meditate upon what is wisest now .
I settle onto the wool rug before the fire, slow my unnecessary breaths, and close my eyes. Focus inward. Let the mind be still as a forest pond…
But the very air around me seems to tremble and blur. Draven’s call reverberates more insistently. Without warning, the floor drops away beneath me. My stomach lurches as magic wraps me in crushing darkness.
No! I’m being pulled right to him! Panic claws at my throat. I grasp outward blindly with my power, trying to halt the summoning and anchor myself back to my room.
With a gut-wrenching wrench, the darkness splits open. I collapse to my hands and knees, gasping though I need no air. Rough stone meets my palms instead of homespun wool.
Blinking, I peer about cautiously, muscles tensed to spring, but no attacker awaits, only silent bookshelves rising around me like monoliths in neat, familiar rows.
The archives. Somehow, Draven’s call hurled me all the way to the castle archives.
Cold fear trickles down my spine. Our bond should not be so strong already that he can summon me thus, no matter how unconsciously. I cannot let this continue. I must go now before—
A thunderous crash echoes through the vast chamber, followed by a pained grunt. I freeze, listening intently. Sounds of a scuffle filter through the shelves then a fury-laced voice I recognize as the elder prince berating someone. Draven’s name punctuates the tirade like a curse.
Body coiled tight, I creep between the shelves toward the commotion, peer cautiously around a corner, and inhale a sharp breath at the sight meeting my eyes.
Prince Theron looms over a battered Draven crumpled on the flagstones amidst scattered books and shards of broken wood. Blood, vampire blood, slicks Draven’s chin, dripping from his split lip. He’s been brutally beaten, one eye rapidly swelling shut, but he glares up at his brother with indomitable defiance.
“The truth… our people deserve…” he rasps out hoarsely.
Blinding rage whites out my vision at seeing him thus. How dare the prince raise a hand to his own? To my mate !
Power surges tumultuously within me, bucking against my restraints like a rabid beast.
In the shadows, my skin ripples as magic flows just beneath the surface. The rows of books begin to tremble, a low ominous rustling rising in crescendo. I taste blood and snarl silently, fangs descending. Destroy the threat. Protect what is yours. The primal instincts wells up, demanding release.
With a guttural shout, Prince Theron staggers back as a book launches itself at his head then another and another. He throws up his arms to shield himself from the barrage. Draven struggles to rise, but I pin him safely down with an invisible binding spell, not wanting him hurt further in the chaos.
“Enough! Show yourself, sorcerer!” Theron roars over the cacophony.
Naturally, I don’t.
The color drains from his face. He turns and flees the archive, still pursued by a cloud of books hurling themselves at his back.
In the wake of sudden silence, I sag against the shelves, adrenaline rushing out of me. Gods, what have I done? I cannot afford to lose control like that, not even in Draven’s defense. I must go quickly before he or anyone else discovers me here.
Steeling myself, I weave the teleportation spell to return home, fighting to ignore Draven’s bewildered voice calling distantly for the “invisible spirit” to come forward. His earnest concern for his unseen defender plucks at my heart, but I silence the unwelcome pang. Attachment can only lead to ruin for us both. I must be strong, for his sake as well as mine. If nothing else, this moment has reminded me just how ruthless Draven’s family is. I can’t become part of it.
With a gut-wrenching twist, I tear myself away, leaving him with nothing but mystery and unanswered questions. The familiar confines of my guest chamber reform around me, and I collapse by the neglected tea kettle, hands shaking. The herbs have over-steeped, but I drink anyhow, the floral brew bitter and astringent on my tongue. It will not fully take care of my bloodlust, but it will hold me over for the night until I can find more or return home.
As my body regains equilibrium, I slump back against the rug, equal parts drained and rattled. This day has only reinforced the danger posed by my bond with Draven. He seems able to summon me without consciously intending to, and the murderous rage that overtook me when I saw him harmed… A shiver wracks my frame. I came perilously close to exposing myself, nearly willing to kill for his sake. That cannot happen again. There is only one way to assure both our safeties now.
Draven’s parting words echo through my mind, making my heart ache. “Rest well, unseen spirit…”
I dash the traitorous wetness from my eyes angrily. This is for the best. He is a noble prince, heir to a kingdom, and I… I am the nightmare that his family destroyed hundreds of lives to eliminate. We were never meant to walk the same path.
Tomorrow, I will tell him… it is over. Our stars crossed only for a fleeting moment out of time. No matter what destiny or bonds seek to bind us, we must each follow our own solitary course once more. For his sake and mine.
The decision made, exhausted calm finally settles over my spirit. I curl upon the woolen rug beside Luna, taking comfort in the familiar herbs overhead. Through our connection, I can sense she is nearly healed. Soon, it will be safe to travel with her magically back home. Tomorrow will bring sorrow and parting, but then it shall just be me, Luna, and my woods and quiet days of solitude again.
No matter the ache in my silent heart, that will be enough. It must be enough.
***
I stir from my nest of blankets as a familiar prodding nudges at my consciousness. Luna’s presence brushes gently against my mind, rousing me from sleep. I blink open bleary eyes to find her silver-furred face peering down at me, green eyes shining brightly despite the early hour.
“Luna?” I rasp in surprise.
She nuzzles against my cheek in response, and I feel a swell of relief to see her recovered enough to wake at last. I run my hands through her soft fur, taking comfort in the strength of our bond after days of worry for her health.
Even as joy lifts my spirit, the persistent throb of thirst stirs as well, never far from waking. I wince as it surges hotly beneath my skin, my body recognizing the creeping onset of need. The tea I brewed last night, meant to curb my rising bloodlust, seems to have lost some potency overnight.
“We must find you more herbs to bring your strength back fully,” I murmur.
Even this trivial errand now seems risky with the thirst upon me. What if I cannot restrain my nature amidst the crowds sure to throng the city streets by day?
Luna tilts her head, studying me intently. Go , her voice echoes gently in my mind. I will rest here. While I’ve slept, I’ve seen what’s transpired. Restock before you reveal yourself. You are not stable enough to take us all of the way back to your home. And bring me back some treats! I prefer the ones with frosting.
I hesitate, uncertainty and temptation warring within. Part of me yearns to flee the confines of this castle and the entanglements I’ve found here, to take Luna and disappear into the wilderness once more, leaving only mystery in our wake.
Coward.
I flinch from the gentle chastisement, even as I know it’s the truth. For decades, I have fled any threat of entanglement, wrapping solitude like armor around my wounded heart. This castle, for all its perils, offers a chance to mend long-neglected parts of my spirit… if I can find the courage to stay.
“Remain in my room. You will be safe here,” I concede reluctantly, and Luna’s delight ripples through our link. I cannot help a small smile in return. “And try to stay out of trouble.”
Her amused huff follows me out the door as I slip into the corridors, wound tight with tension. I keep my steps swift but stealthy, relying on my vampire senses to avoid the few servants beginning to stir in the early light. The last thing I want is conversation, friendly or otherwise, not with the thirst already laying claim to my thoughts.
Rounding a corner, I very nearly crash into a figure stepping suddenly into my path. I pull up short, swallowing back an instinctive hiss, and find myself staring into Princess Audrey’s startled face.
Of course. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. So much for avoiding entanglements.
“Thorn!” Audrey exclaims, quickly regaining her composure. “Just the woman I was coming to find.”
I fold my hands demurely, keeping my tone light. “How may I be of service, Your Highness? ”
Her keen gaze sweeps over me, likely taking in the tense set of my shoulders and darkened eyes, but she simply links her arm through mine. “Come along. We have important business in the city today.”
Before I can object, she propels us briskly toward the gates. I force my steps to match hers, senses primed for any threat. I need to head that way anyways. It would only complicate things if I did it alone and ran into her there.
“Business, Highness?” I prompt warily once we pass into the bustling streets beyond the castle walls. The morning sun, though weak in the winter sky, still prickles across my skin, but it is the swirling scents and sounds of the awakening city that truly threaten my restraint. I focus on keeping my breathing steady, my movements natural.
Audrey pats my arm. “Please, it’s Audrey, and yes, we have some final dress fittings to attend to before the ball the day after tomorrow. I want to be certain your gown is perfect.”
I blink in surprise, some tension easing from my shoulders as her meaning sinks in. Of course, the upcoming solstice celebration. In truth, I nearly forgot about playing my role as Prince Draven’s escort for the event. Not that anyone asked my opinion for that role.
I open my mouth to kindly reject the need for more from them, but Audrey’s expression—open and earnest, even a touch playful—stops me. When was the last time I shared such carefree moments with another? For all my wariness, part of me yearns to surrender to this silly adventure.
“It would be my honor,” I say instead, inclining my head.
Audrey beams and quickens our steps toward the merchant district. I focus on the pleasant bustle around us, letting it drown out the ever-present thrum of blood.
Despite myself, I soon grow caught up in Audrey’s infectious enthusiasm as she whisks me from shop to shop. We browse glittering jewels and fabrics, sample exotic perfumes, and share amused commentary on the passing crowds. The thirst still plucks at my veins, but Audrey’s bright laughter keeps the shadows at bay.
At the modiste, I stand awkward and self-conscious as the plump seamstress fusses over my ballgown’s adjustments. The sumptuous emerald and black velvet creation seems designed for a far loftier lady than I, but Audrey insists it complements my coloring perfectly.
“Simply stunning,” she proclaims once the final pins are in place. “Prince Draven will be utterly speechless when he sees you in this.”
I duck my head as an involuntary flush warms my pale cheeks. Audrey’s knowing look tells me she notices, but she tactfully keeps any teasing at bay. I feel a rush of gratitude for her perceptiveness. There are some matters I do not yet have words for, even to myself.
The seamstress packages up the ballgown with promises to have it delivered to the castle by tomorrow. Audrey then draws me eagerly toward one last stop—another dressmaker she commissioned to outfit me with even more day dresses suitable for court.
My protests over such unnecessary indulgence die on my lips at the sincere delight in Audrey’s eyes. Clearly, my acceptance of these gifts means something to her, so I swallow my unease and allow the whirlwind to continue.
A beautiful blonde assistant urges me to try on a gown specially made at Prince Draven’s request. Unable to resist peeking at the handiwork, I slip behind the changing screen with the dress in hand.
It proves to be a dream confection of rich burgundy velvet, cinched at the waist with a silver silk sash embroidered with delicate frosted ferns and icicles. The square neckline is trimmed with antique lace and tiny seed pearls like freshly fallen snow. As I smooth my hands over the corseted bodice, I find inner seams lined with discreet flexible boning to support my subtle curves. The full skirts fall in elegant ripples reminiscent of snow drifts, concealing cunning slits to allow freedom of movement. I slip into a pair of heels that both match beautifully and make me want to throw them. I haven’t worn heels since I was last in this court. They are something I most definitely haven’t missed.
Twirling slowly before the mirror, I can scarcely recognize myself. The gown transforms me into a court lady of refined elegance and taste, utterly unlike the wild, feral creature who roams the mist-veiled, snow-laden forests, concealing herself in winter’s shadows.
I wonder what prompted Draven to choose such a creation for me, when my true nature must seem so contrary to this civilized facade. Does he see something in me beyond the wary vagrant exiled to the icy wilderness for so long? Some hidden potential waiting to unfurl like the first flower after the thaw?
Voices sound just outside the curtained alcove, jolting me from my pensive thoughts. I turn at the familiar timbre drawing near, my borrowed finery rustling softly with the motion.
“We have everything well in hand. There’s no need to trouble yourself,” comes Audrey’s lilting voice.
“It’s no trouble, I assure you.” The smile is audible in Draven’s smooth reply. “I wished to check that the dressmaker followed my requests properly for the lady.”
My breath stills. Speak of the devil, it seems. The fates conspire at every turn to entangle our paths.
“Thorn is just changing now if you’d like to see how it fits,” the blonde chirps eagerly.
Before I can object, the curtain whisks back, revealing me in all my bejeweled splendor.
I freeze beneath Draven’s intense silver gaze, pinned in place like a butterfly beneath a collector’s needle. Heat blooms across my cheeks, no doubt staining them pink. Curse this fair complexion !
“Exquisite,” he murmurs, eyes trailing over me slowly. “You look beautiful, Thorn.”
The genuineness in his tone flusters me further. I am no lady, only masquerading as one in this dress, but the way Draven looks at me makes me wish his imaginings were true. It makes me want to become the woman he apparently sees behind my feral facade.
I dip into a wobbly curtsey to disguise my turmoil. “You have a discerning eye, Your Highness. The gown is… beyond compare.” I cringe internally at how breathless my voice sounds. Get a hold of yourself!
A hint of a dimple flashes as Draven grins. “The beauty wearing it enhances its splendor.”
Audrey makes a small amused noise while I flounder speechlessly. Blast this infernal thirst robbing me of my wits! I settle for dropping my eyes demurely, despite wanting to glare at his smug, handsome face. Insufferable rogue.
“Yes, well, I think that’s everything we need here for now,” Audrey interjects smoothly, sparing me the need to formulate a clever retort. Bless her tact. “Shall we continue our excursion to the jeweler next? Keep that on, dear. We can have them send back your dress when they deliver the rest of them. It would be a shame to take it off so quickly.”
I nod and can’t help admiring myself in the mirror, wondering how on earth I’ll manage dancing in these fancy heels, when there’s a knock. In pops Lord Anthony’s sunny face.
“There you are, Lady Audrey! Care to grab lunch with me? I had a few things I wanted to run past you before tomorrow,” he asks with a meaningful look that says this is not just any pleasant stroll.
Audrey pinks up prettily. “I would be delighted!” she chirps at him. She turns to me with an apologetic smile. “You don’t mind if Prince Draven escorts you to the jewelers instead do you? I’m sure he has an excellent eye to help you choose some accessories.”
Before I can reply, the prince speaks, “It would be my absolute pleasure.” His silvery gaze settles on me, and my traitorous heart does a little flutter. Honestly, this man!
With a grateful curtsey to the prince, Audrey sweeps out on Anthony’s arm, clearly eager to have him alone. She shoots me a significant look over her shoulder as they go .
Hilarious, fate, leaving me alone with my inconvenient crush who I’m desperately trying not to fall for. Just brilliant.
I dip into a courtesy, aiming for poise but nearly toppling on these blasted heels. “Shall we?”
Draven smiles and offers his arm, silver eyes dancing with amusement as I wobble slightly. Oh, you just love this, don’t you? I internally grumble at him as we head off toward the jewelers. The one place I need to be is the apothecary for more ingredients for my tea, but nope, stuck here playing dress up with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous. I will get my revenge on Fate the first chance I get.
The jewelers is nestled snugly between two stone buildings, its polished oak door bearing an ornate silver knocker in the shape of an owl. As Draven holds the door open for me with a gallant sweep of his arm, a merry tinkle from the bell announces our arrival.
I blink as my eyes adjust from the bright sunlight outdoors to the cozy interior, lit by a combination of natural light streaming through high arched windows and the warm glow of lanterns lining the display cases. The glass cases shine, meticulously polished to best showcase their glittering contents—gems of every hue and precious metals crafted into rings, necklaces, bracelets, and other finery I can scarcely fathom. My fingers itch to touch and explore, though such frivolous adornments are worlds away from my practical forest life.
An elderly dwarf with a bushy white beard trimmed short comes bustling out from a back room, beaming in delight. His keen eyes gleam beneath busy white brows, taking in every detail.
“Prince Draven, welcome! An honor as always to have you grace my humble shop.” He sketches a neat bow then turns the force of his friendly gaze on me. “And who might this lovely blossom be?”
“Fenton, allow me to present Lady Thorn, my personal guest from the northern forests.” Draven’s hand comes to rest familiarly on my lower back, a subtle possessive touch that makes my pulse skitter. “We are in need of some accessories for the ball tomorrow evening.”
“Of course. Of course! My lady, what pleasure it is to make your acquaintance.” Fenton makes a gracious bow in my direction, eyes twinkling. “With such beauty before me, I shall take great joy in selecting only the finest pieces to complement you. ”
I offer him a polite smile in return, though inwardly I’m amused by his obvious attempts at flattery. Still, his warm manner puts me at ease.
Clasping his hands eagerly, Fenton shuffles over to a particular display case near the back. “Now this, I believe, would be just the thing for our fair forest nymph.” With practiced care, he unlocks the case and lifts out an elegant silver necklace. “Mined by my cousins in the Blue Mountains from only the finest quality ore.” He winks conspiratorially as he lays the piece atop the glass for our inspection. “Silver laced with a touch of dwarven magic, so it will never tarnish or lose its luster. And at the center, an emerald the precise shade of moss in spring, if I may say so, my lady.”
I lean in, enthralled by the beauty and craftsmanship of the design. The emerald teardrop glimmers in a setting of delicate silver filigree. Simple yet even my untrained eye can see it is a work of art. I brush a tentative fingertip over the gemstone, half expecting the piece to disappear at my touch.
“It’s exquisite,” I breathe out.
Beside me, Draven smiles. “Of course it is. I would want nothing less for my mate,” he whispers in my ear. His eyes meet mine, deep wells of quicksilver that see past my surface. “We will take it.”
I start to protest such a lavish gift.
Draven silences my objections by taking my hand, his expression unexpectedly earnest. “Please, allow me this small token to welcome you. Seeing such finery grace your lovely neck will bring me great joy.” His voice drops lower in a subtle caress. “Though not nearly so much as your smile in this moment.”
My cheeks warm at his bold flattery even as my reservations melt away. I cannot deny being touched by his thoughtfulness and wish to make me feel valued.
I swallow my protests and accept gracefully. “You have my deepest thanks. I shall treasure it always.”
Fenton beams as he lifts the necklace carefully from its velvet case and hands it to Draven. Moving behind me, Draven gently sweeps my hair aside to clasp the chain in place. I shiver as the cool metal and stones come to rest in the hollow of my throat.
I’m aware of every movement of his body until the clasp clicks shut and he turns me around to face him. His eyes simmer with something I dare not name. His fingers trail feather-light over my nape as he adjusts the pendant, letting it nestle perfectly against my skin. My pulse thrums like a plucked violin string, hyper aware of his nearness, his subtle caress. This feels far too intimate for our precarious arrangement, yet I cannot summon the will to pull away just yet.
Fenton, bless him, seems oblivious to the charged moment passing between us. He clasps his hands in delight once more. “Oh, yes, a perfect match! The lady was made to wear such finery.”
Draven’s mouth quirks up at one corner. “On that we agree.” He takes my hand and presses a courtly kiss to my knuckles, eyes dancing. “My lady shines brighter than any gem.”
I reward his audacity with a playful swat against his shoulder. “You are absolutely ridiculous.”
Secretly, I admit his attentions leave me flushed and flustered in the most delightful way.
The shop door bursts open, and Lord Anthony enters looking harried. “Your Highness, my apologies, but you’re needed urgently.”
Draven swears under his breath, clearly irritated by the interruption. “I’m sorry. I need to…”
“Go, if it’s that important. I have an errand to run before heading back to the castle anyways. ”
With a small apologetic smile, Draven pays for the necklace quickly and the two of them leave, and I’m left clutching the emerald necklace, pulse still racing from even that brief contact. Being alone with Draven is exhilarating yet dangerous, like dancing with fire. I must keep my wits about me, though my treacherous heart threatens to overrule my logic when I’m near him.
I turn to the kindly old dwarf and dip into a grateful curtsy. “You have my deepest thanks, sir, for helping select such an exquisite piece.” I touch the emerald pendant lying cool against my throat, genuinely moved by Draven’s wish to gift me such beautiful finery.
Fenton’s eyes crinkle merrily beneath his bushy brows. “The pleasure was all mine, my lady. You and the prince take care now.” He waves cheerfully.
Out on the bustling market street once more, I breathe deep of the fresh air and lift my face to the sunshine, letting its warmth soak into my pale skin. An unfamiliar but not unpleasant weight, the pendant glints softly around my neck.
I hesitate, my throat already burning with increasingly urgent thirst. I desperately need to get to the apothecary for more blood elixir before my tenuous control shatters completely. I meander past booths peddling fragrant spices and bolts of sumptuous fabrics, and artisans showcasing their crafts. My fingers itch to explore the wares, but I keep my hands clasped tightly before me, anxious not to draw undue notice.
As I stroll, an uneasy tingle plucks at my senses, the subtle tugging of magical energy. My steps falter as I tense, instantly on high alert. Before I can react, the now-familiar vise grip of involuntary teleportation seizes me. I gasp sharply, the world blurring sickeningly around me.
When my vision clears, I’m no longer amid the sunny market but a dingy, rundown wooden room. Vampires are fighting with each other. Several are dressed in finery that tells me they must be connected to nobles while others are clearly of a much lower class.
My gaze lands on Draven grappling viciously with another vampire, and my heart clutches with fear. Draven is drenched in blood from numerous gashes marring his body. The other vampire has him pinned, greedily feeding from the gaping wound at his throat.
At the horrific sight, the last tattered shreds of my control utterly shatter. Savage, primal bloodlust surges up from deep within, consuming all reason and sanity.
No! I desperately try to cling to some scrap of humanity, but my thoughts dissolve, lost in a rising red haze. The ever-present thirst I constantly keep locked down and controlled is unleashed now with explosive force.
I let loose an inhuman snarl as the monster within takes over. Magic flares wildly around me, lashing the air like the lash of a whip. With blurring speed, I launch myself at the vampire on top of Draven. The vampire has only a split second to look up before I descend on him in a whirlwind of claws and bared fangs, ripping ruthlessly into his vulnerable flesh.
Hot blood splashes my face, and I lunge mindlessly for more. The rich metallic taste only fuels the frenzy growing within me. From far away, I hear chaos exploding as the other vampires react to my sudden berserker fury, but I am deaf now to everything except the screaming bloodlust and hunger driving me.
I carve a path of mangled bodies through the cramped room, consumed by my primal vampiric nature. My vision narrows down to the pulsing veins and frantically beating hearts of my prey. I am the hunter and they my feast. Nothing exists in this moment but the need to rend, to feed.
Only when gentle hands grasp my shoulders, sending a magical warmth through me, do I hesitate in my rampage. Panting, I blink away the haze of violence to find Draven gazing at me with a look of confusion.
“Thorn?” he murmurs.
Shame crashes down on me, horror at what I’ve done threatening to crush me where I stand. Somehow, Draven’s steady gaze anchors me before I can spiral too deep.
Taking in the ruin surrounding us, he says grimly, “We need to talk.”
The other vampires—Anthony included—seem shaken but unharmed. They are kept at a wary distance by Draven’s upraised hand. With dreadful certainty, I know I have just exposed my monstrous true nature to them all.
Before I can properly panic, Draven turns his compelling gaze on each in turn. “You will forget what transpired here,” he commands, voice resonating with power. “We were set upon by enemies and prevailed. No other details remain. ”
Their eyes all take on a glazed look of obedience. Draven has wiped their memories, saving my secret. All except Anthony, who watches solemnly, clearly still in possession of his wits.
Catching my frightened gaze, he simply bows his head. “Your secrets are safe with me.” His sincerity makes me sag with tearful relief and gratitude.
With a reassuring hand on my back, Draven guides me quickly away. My chaotic thoughts swirl like scattered leaves in a storm as we make our harrowing way back to the safety of the castle. I cling to Draven’s steady presence at my side like a lifeline, the one fixed point in my unmoored world.
Whatever consequences loom ahead, whether rejection or punishment for my monstrous acts, with Draven, I can weather the coming storm.