57. Swine
Swine
Luka paced anxiously, boots striking the floor as Denalia rested peacefully in her bassinet, ignorant of the magnitude of the atrocities her young eyes had witnessed. Matilda had yet to return, and with each pivot, the ache in the pit of his stomach grew.
He felt helpless.
Then, when he fled with their child, abandoning his queen to face Prince Lykaon alone, and now because her fate was unknown.
He sat in an armchair near the window and peered into the distance.
His foot tapped repeatedly, and his jaw tightened with each passing second.
His heart… it raced, feeling like galloping hooves in his chest. His fingers curled over the armrests, and his nails dug into the wood until one of them broke.
He’d barely registered the pain of the nail tearing from the nail bed.
Commotion outside drew his attention to the courtyard beyond the window.
He nearly collapsed with relief from the sight of Matilda easing off Obsidian. She appeared unharmed.
Luka’s hand found the stone ledge beneath the window, gripping it as the unbearable tightness in his chest finally loosened.
For hours, his mind had tormented him with every possible fate that could have befallen her after he’d left.
He did what he had to do to protect their child, but every instinct screamed at him to turn back.
Matilda handed Obsidian’s reins to a waiting stable hand before consulting with Ezra. She gestured toward the castle as she spoke, and his advisor nodded attentively. Luka found himself staring.
There was something undeniably regal about her, yet she resembled no queen he had ever known.
She wasn’t wearing a jeweled gown sweeping across the earth behind her, or delicate slippers on her feet.
Her hair wasn’t in an elaborate arrangement of curls adorned with an ornate crown, or rings on her fingers dripping with precious stones.
Matilda wore fitted leather britches and tall boots muddied from travel, a dark tunic clinched at her waist beneath a heavy cape that shifted from the blustery winds.
Her curls had long since escaped the braid she’d worn. From there, he could tell the earlier events had made her weary, but she still looked every bit a queen—perhaps more so.
Her appearance held a femininity, yet nothing about her seemed fragile. She looked every bit capable of walking into a throne room or onto a battlefield without changing so much as her boots.
Luka’s mouth curved into an approving smile. Centuries of queens had been taught to look majestic while sitting beside kings. Matilda looked majestic giving orders in a muddy courtyard.
Something warm expanded beneath his ribs… pride.
Matilda had faced a prince alone and returned home to him and their child.
As though sensing his stare, Matilda suddenly looked toward the castle. Their eyes met through the window, and her stern expression melted into a soft smile.
Luka’s own smile snapped into a frown when she playfully gave him her middle finger. His fingers tightened around the stone ledge.
“The woman is an asshole. Leave it to her to ruin the moment.”
Whatever frustration he felt fled as soon as she entered their private quarters, bringing with her the smell of dirt, blood, and death.
Without thought, she stood over the bassinet and stared at Denalia.
Luka recognized the look on her face. It was one he’d worn himself many times—shame and regret—something that often came with the title.
He approached cautiously.
“Shall I have the servants prepare a bath?” he whispered.
She responded without taking her eyes off Denalia.
“I was right when I called vampires soulless monsters.”
Luka flinched from the certainty and self-deprecation in her tone.
“Matilda.”
“There was blood everywhere.”
He remained silent as Denalia slept peacefully between the furs. Matilda reached down and brushed a curl away from their daughter’s forehead.
“I was afraid, but more than that, I was angry. I knew I had to keep him there long enough for you to get away with her.” Her fingertip lingered against Denalia’s cheek.
“My mind was racing as I faced him. I wondered if you two were safe, if there would be another ambush, but I was thinking about something else, too.”
Luka nodded. He understood because he’d been there before when the urge took over. “The blood,” he said.
She looked at him shamefully.
“I could smell all of it. There were bodies everywhere, Luka. Humans and wolves—some dead, some dying, some still crying out for help.”
She swallowed hard and pressed her hand to her throat. “And all I could think about was how thirsty I was.”
“That is natural.”
“Do not excuse it.” Matilda glanced back at Denalia. “It wasn’t only the bodies. There was a woman nearby. She was alive and bleeding from her arm.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I could hear her heat. I could hear the blood moving through it. And I wanted her.”
Luka remained perfectly still.
“Then I smelled one of the horses. I wanted it too. There were pigs loose from one of the pens and…” A humorless laugh escaped her. “God, Luka. I would have bitten a fucking pig.”
He might have smiled under any other circumstances, but not now. Not when she was falling apart.
“And then I heard a child crying.” Matilda’s eyes filled with tears.
“He was injured, and I wanted his blood, too. A fucking child, Luka, no different from our own.” Her face crumpled painfully.
“Man, woman, child, horse, pig—it made no difference. Everything around me became something I could feed from.”
Luka moved closer as she stared at her hands that were more capable than she’d ever known.
“I spent my entire life hunting creatures for doing exactly that. I called your kind beasts, monsters, parasites, and soulless things incapable of seeing humans as anything other than food. And now? I understand.”
“No,” he said quietly. “Now you understand the hunger.”
She scoffed. “What difference does that make?”
“Every difference. You smelled blood and wanted it.”
“I wanted an infant’s blood.”
“And did you take it?” Matilda stared at Luka as if he had lost his mind. “Answer me.”
“No.”
“The woman? The horse? The pigs? Anyone lying wounded around you?”
“No,” she whispered. “But I wanted to.”
“Yes.”
His blunt agreement seemed to surprise her, but Luka wouldn’t lie to comfort her.
“You wanted to feed because every instinct in your body demanded it. You are newly turned. You were frightened, exhausted, surrounded by blood, and had gone too long without feeding. Your hunger did not ask whether the blood belonged to an innocent or an enemy. Hunger lives freely without morality, Tilda. But you proved that you do not.”
“That does not erase what I thought.”
“No. Nor should it. You should remember it. You believed monsters were creatures who experienced monstrous desires. You were wrong.”
Matilda’s wet eyes lifted to his.
“Then what makes one a monster?”
“Choice.”
Silence settled between them for a moment.
“The hunger told you to feed. It told you to abandon the wounded and satisfy yourself, and you chose to remain behind so Denalia could escape.” A tear slipped down Matilda’s cheek. Luka quickly wiped it away. “Never in eternity would I consider you, Matilda Seraphina Alesi, to be soulless.”
She shook her head. “You weren’t there. You don’t know how badly I wanted it.”
“I have walked this earth for centuries.” His voice softened. “Do you truly believe I do not?”
“I believe you,” she conceded. “But if one day I cannot stop myself?” Luka didn’t answer immediately because he didn’t want to insult her with an easy promise. “Then I will stop you. And when the hunger passes, I will still be there.”
She finally broke. Luka caught her as she folded into him, burying her face against his shoulder.
Her body shook with sobs she had been holding back since she’d ridden through the gates.
He held her without assurances that she would never lose control or promises that immortality would become easy.
His only truth was that his arms would always receive her.
After a while, Matilda whispered against his chest, “I truly did consider the pig.”
Luka closed his eyes. “We shall keep that indignity between ourselves.”
A small laugh broke free from her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Though, I confess, I am somewhat offended.”
She pulled back and peered at him with reddened eyes. “Why?”
“You have my blood available to you, yet apparently swine will suffice.”
She shoved his shoulder, and he smiled.
“There is certainly no difference between your blood and swine blood.”
Luka scoffed. “I beg to differ.”
“Are you offering then?”
He brushed away a flyaway curl before leaning down to kiss her forehead.
“Come, my Queen. Denalia slumbers. I shall satiate you.”
***
Their private bathing chamber sat beyond an arched doorway adjoining their bedchamber. The bath was built directly into the stone floor, broad enough to comfortably accommodate several bodies, and deep enough for the water to reach Matilda’s chest while seated.
Steam billowed from the water servants had carried in by the bucketful. Strategically placed candles flickered, and bundles of dried lavender and rosemary hung nearby.
A narrow hearth burned against the far wall, keeping the chamber pleasantly warm despite the winter cold that at times found its way into the castle.
Matilda sank deep into the water with a sigh. Luka settled between her legs with his back against her chest. It was a peculiar position for them, yet Luka’s desire to feed his queen outweighed any embarrassment.
Wet strands of dark hair clung to his back until he gathered them in one hand and swept them over his shoulder. He tilted his head, laying completely exposed to her.