5. Chapter 4 Svenn
Chapter 4 Svenn
A pair of violet eyes is staring back at me across the meadow. They widen immediately as Rhianelle’s curiosity turns to shock. She tries to hide behind the leaves and trees.
Too late for that.
“Come out, little fawn,” I call to her.
Hopefully she won’t do anything foolish like—running.
And off she goes, bolting into the woods like a little minx.
A slow, sadistic smile stretches my lips.
Rhianelle has chosen to play.
Blood rushes to every muscle and nerve in my body. I can never resist a hunt. I give my prey ample time to get a head start before I make a slow, deliberate move.
Stalking her is half the fun after all.
My vision and hearing sharpen as the thrill of the chase courses through my veins. I was a tracker back in my human days. The trait was enhanced when I was made into a Strigon.
I wait just a little longer, then I follow her trail deeper into the forest. The sound of her frantic breathing is a lullaby to my ears. It escalates into something shallow and ragged as fear fuels her run. There is no way she can outrun me.
The sight of her smooth skin and silver hair among the trees demands my attention raptly.
There you are, little fawn.
Once I have her beneath my claw, we’re going to have so much fun. She smells incredible. Like honey and water lilies. I’ve caught the scent of my prey and I’m not letting go. My canines ache with anticipation.
But something strange happens.
Rhianelle’s footsteps are getting fainter, and so is her pulse rate. In a matter of seconds, they disappear altogether.
I sense no heartbeat, no breathing sounds. There’s not even a trace of her scent. It’s like her entire presence is erased from the world.
My heightened awareness fails to detect her in the castle compound either. There’s no way she got away so quickly.
“Rhianelle!” I scream without warning. “Where are you?”
Only the birds and buzzing bees answer my roar. Did she fall into a ditch and fucking die? But there’s not a hint of blood.
It makes no sense.
Have I lost my sanity? I know my brain didn’t just make her up. She was definitely there behind the trees.
I saw her.
“Rhianelle!” I try again.
The earlier excitement has turned into a gripping fear.
“Come back,” I mutter breathlessly.
A sense of doom comes crashing down on me, suffocating and heavy. I clench a fist over my chest to calm the damned thing beating there. “Nel, please come back. I need you.”
Something moves in the bushes. A flash of silver hair sprinting past me.
This leisure pace almost feels like a bait. Every once in a while, Rhianelle glances over her shoulder to make sure I don’t lose her trail.
‘Chase me.’
It’s almost as if she’s pulling me back from the despairing shadows, tugging me toward the light.
Once we reach the open field, she stops running.
The little fawn wants to fight? Or has she forfeited her life? She is just standing there, waiting for me like a prey that wants to be eaten.
Throwing my arms around her waist and my body over her, I tackle her to the ground.
Rhianelle tries to wriggle free from my grasp, but I’m too strong for her.
“Svenn,” she gasps as she struggles, her white camisole peeking beneath the dress. Why the fuck does she choose such an innocent color? It makes me angry for no reason.
I’ll devour her whole and leave no crumbs. This need for her is all-consuming. I run my nose over her collarbone to the hollow of her throat, inhaling deeply.
Then I bite.
She releases a small whimper, and just like that she is done for. No, I am done for.
Don’t do this to her.
I hear the beasts in me beg. It’s not them or my thirst that’s been keeping me on edge.
This is something else.
A strange primal instinct that wants me to own her, that wants her to submit.
The bond.
I fucking hate this. My entire body trembles with restraint as I try to shut the damn thing down. I pry my jaw open from her throat. We’re both panting, her chest rising and falling frantically below mine. My teeth leave a mark, but it doesn’t prickle her skin deep enough to draw blood.
The rush from the chase fades and I find myself staring at a pair of lilac eyes.
“I’m not fully myself yet,” I say with shame, lowering my head. “If you run from me… I will chase. Do you understand?”
She nods.
“Do you know what will happen once I catch you?” My voice comes out thick and hoarse.
“I know.” She nods understandingly. Her sweet breath dusting my face. Now I wish she didn’t open her mouth.
She keeps her face carefully controlled but I can feel her racing heartbeat. “I told you to use the Rhunhraefn if I am ever a danger to you.”
Her lips press into a stubborn line at the warning.
“Do not hesitate,” I insist, grinding my teeth. “Your survival depends on it.”
“You have this under control,” she says softly.
This blind trust for someone she barely knows, this piss poor self-preservation skill… it makes me angry. A growl escapes my throat as I bare my lethal canines at her.
“I have this under control,” she clarifies, undaunted. I feel a sharp nudge in my groin.
I bark a laughter at the feeble threat.
“It takes ninety seconds to bleed out from a severed artery. Enough time for me to rip you apart,” I whisper, licking the column of her throat for emphasis.
Her breath catches but she recovers quickly. The girl grins despite death hovering inches from her.
“Who says I’m aiming for the artery?” She presses the dagger harder against me.
A smile curves my lips at the cool feel of the blade higher up my thigh. Her threat to my balls and cock has the opposite effect she intended. She’s drawing the beast in me to play.
“I can simply… regenerate.” My body goes entirely still above her, the predatory focus refusing to fade. “You’re playing a very dangerous game, Rhianelle.”
“So are you.” She glares boldly, leaning her head to whisper in my ear, “They might grow back small.”
The beasts inside me snarl at the challenge.
She thinks this is amusing. I want to lash out to tell her this is no joke. I could have killed her.
I curl my lips, baring my sharp canines at her.
But my attempt to scare her fails miserably for several reasons. First off, her body is pressed up against me. Second… I can’t hardly think of a second reason because her body is pressed up against me.
“No more prey-like behavior,” I say through clenched teeth. It’s more of a plea, a request.
Her eyes snap up to meet my gaze. She stares at me unfazed. It’s almost as if she’s trying to find something in the depths of my eyes.
There is nothing but pitch-black darkness in there, sweetheart.
“All right,” she murmur quietly.
The girl is threatening to slice my balls and yet all I feel is adoration and desire curling in veins. I smile the moment I notice the way her body gravitates towards mine.
Rhianelle has been lying.
She can hide her blush as much as she wants, but I see it in her eyes. The strange bond is still affecting her. I better get a hold of mine soon before I succumb to it. It takes me a considerable amount of strength to pull myself away from her.
Nel shoves to her feet before I can offer her my hand. But she sees the gesture and gives me a near blinding smile. “Thank you.”
I didn’t do shit to deserve that gratitude.
The universe really does hate me. Why have they put this beautiful creature in my destructive path?
“What are you doing in the forest, Rhianelle?” I ask, enjoying the sound of her name in my mouth.
“Training,” she answers. Her gentle hand reaches to remove a leaf from my suit.
The recoil from my body is spontaneous, the weakly human part of me cowering from the memory of the witch’s whip. But it had done its damage.
Rhianelle’s bright smile dims.
I hate myself for reacting that way.
Perhaps it’s the years of torture, perhaps it’s the inevitability of the curse getting to Rhianelle… There’s too much bad blood between us.
“It’s not you.” I echo the words I once said to her.
The girl simply nods, backing away to give me space. That dejected look on her face sends pain crashing through my heart.
I should just go.
I try not to look at her haunted eyes as I turn away to leave. My gut twists the further I walk from her. Rhianelle didn’t ask to be Rhunhraefn’s vessel. She has done nothing wrong. It feels like I’m punishing her for something she never did.
A strange tug in my chest prompts me to look back. I see the girl with her shoulders hunched and her face casted downward. Confusion and sadness color her soft features as she touches her belly.
Lilith is the bitch responsible for my damnation, not this sweet girl. The years of suffering under the clutches of the witches have turned me into this horrible bastard. But I’m done hurting this girl just because I’m a coward.
I move closer to the Elven Queen, my body tensing. “Would you like a sparring partner?”
She blinks, her brows knitting into a frown.
“For your training,” I clarify.
I am certain the bewilderment in her eyes matches my own.
Her pupils constrict as she catches my stare. “I can see the benefit for me. What’s in it for you?” she asks.
“I’m teaching myself not to react to that.” I lower my eyes to look at the Rhunhraefn’s marking.
Her lilac eyes widen slightly.
“The curse?”
I merely nod.
She gives me a vexed look. “I would suggest therapy. Lady Deirdre holds a mind healing session on every fifth day of the week.”
“I’m facing my fear. I’m sure it’s a form of therapy too,” I say wryly.
“It might be… but I think you skipped a few steps.” She backs away. “I don’t want to cause you pain.”
Of course she doesn’t. This sweet fucking creature.
“It will be good for us both,” I say, half expecting her to reject the absurd idea again.
I try not to focus on the way she tugs her lower lip between her teeth in contemplation.
“Yes, I would love—like that.” I catch a hint of excitement despite the uncertain waver in her answer.
“Should we start now?” she suggests.
Shit.
I was not prepared for that.
Still, I follow behind her silently to the open clearing. She places the heavy tome on the grass and turns to face me.
“Are you good with hand-to-hand combat?” I ask.
She nods.
“I used to train with my knights. But they are busy helping Lord Wesley with the murder case.” Her eyes turn sad again.
If only she knew that one of her beloved knights was responsible for half of those deaths. I don’t feel the need to break this news to her. If what Red said was true, then I want the bastard to continue whatever the fuck he’s doing in the shadows.
“Are you ready?” she asks.
I can’t resist the challenge and the mischievous glint in her eyes. Something in her calls to my dark soul, calls to my monster to come out and play.
She swerves to my right, catching me completely off guard. I must be out of my fucking mind, being this close to a curse bearer. But when it comes to Rhianelle Wiolant, I become a fucking fool. I narrowly evade the attack, but she follows up with the next one almost immediately, like a coiled snake ready to strike.
Rhianelle is on the offense, but I don’t go easy on her. Maybe I’m just a little angry at how she is so unaffected by me when I can’t even breathe right around her.
Her lithe dance is like nothing I have ever seen. It’s just as I thought. Being silent is only half of it. Rhianelle has strategized every movement carefully.
She is so fucking quiet I can’t even sense her heartbeat. The girl can even mask her scent which should have been impossible. It brings me shame because I am a tracker. The best hunter out of the five Bloodlines. And yet I couldn’t track her earlier.
It’s unsettling.
This is the same technique she used back when she was fighting the enormous orc. The girl’s skills as a fighter are commendable but she lacks something vital.
Experience.
I remember how she hesitated back then. I still can’t figure why she would think to spare the life of a beast who wanted to harm her.
This time I lunge straight toward her opening. I am a little starstruck when she lands on top of my shoulder. She maneuvers her legs and crosses them around my neck.
Her soft hand wraps around my jaw and the other on a side of my temple in an effort to twist my head.
“Yield,” she commands.
“This won’t work for a larger opponent,” I mutter at the useless attempt.
“It will if I count everything right,” she counters.
“Prove it,” I challenge.
My muscles shift as the girl uses my own strength against me. If I don’t have the healing ability of a Strigon, she would have truly snapped my neck.
I am impressed.
“Not bad,” I say, tapping her leg.
Those beautiful lips curl to a smile. Her cheeks flush into the rosy shade that I adore.
I see a glimpse of the fiery girl who saved me from the dungeon.
Hell, I’ve missed that.
I miss her.
The scent of her arousal suddenly surrounds me.
Fucking hell, Rhianelle. I almost groan. My head is smack in the middle of her thighs.
It’s the wrong fucking position but that can be amended in one quick move. I’m bastard enough to feast on her in the middle of the woods.
“I should get down,” she stammers.
The queen seems to realize the err in her decision to climb on top of me. I can practically hear her pulse racing. She clenches her thighs together and every sane thought leaves me.
Something rustles behind us and my eyes snap to the sound.
“What’s wrong?” she murmurs quietly.
Something is up.
Desire refuses to deflate from my chest despite the threat. I inhale deeply and squeeze her leg in a silent warning. “Don’t come down. Not yet.”
There’s no safer place for her to be than sitting there right over my shoulders. I think she might argue with me, but the girl nods.
I begin moving towards the sounds when a gray-haired male elf dressed in black hunting leathers halts our path.
By human years, he does not look a day past thirty. A long sword hangs on his belt, along with a parrying knife.
“Hey,” he says blandly, by way of greeting.
Not much can be gathered from this male. Half of his face is covered with a mask but those dull, lifeless eyes… It’s the eyes of someone who has seen too much—killed too many.
Rhianelle reaches a hand to him from above me. He takes it, signing himself a death warrant.
“Svenn, this is my friend Shade,” she introduces. The name is simple and pretty enough on a tombstone. But I don’t say this to Rhianelle. I’m trying to earn her trust.
Mercifully, he doesn’t comment on Rhianelle’s odd position over my shoulders.
“How is my uncle?” she asks him with a small voice.
“Resting. But he’s not taking visitor,” Shade answers in an absent-minded tone.
Rhianelle’s grip on my hair tightens. Whatever news this guy is delivering seems to be making her sad.
“He did ask about you earlier,” he offers.
“Really?” She perks up again.
“He wants you to reconsider your plan staying in the same tower as the vampire.”
A smarter man—elf would have waited to deliver this news without me there.
“I concur with the Silverra’s opinion. Nightwalkers are dangerous.” Shade keeps spewing his shit as if he has nine lives to spare. I respect the male’s candor, but I wish he would just drop dead.
He drops his gaze from her to finally look at me. “While we’re at it, the Silverra asked me to check on you.”
His vacant eyes, the tattooed arms, remind me of my brother. Bitter memories of Ruth flash through my mind like a lightning strike. “Rainer Wiolant wants to know if his niece is sharing her bed with the killer that’s been terrorizing Windhaven. He said to do it discreetly but it’s too much hassle.”
The guy actually has nerve to hand me an apple. “Bite on this so I can get your teeth marks.”
Fuck, no.
What the hell is wrong with this kid?
“It’s not him,” Rhianelle says firmly.
My heart warms at the fierce conviction in her voice.
“I agree,” Shade surprisingly says. “It could just be rats.”
“Rats?” Rhianelle echoes the curiosity in my mind.
“Back in Tiamat, the heavy pollution resulted in a mutation to the rodents. They’re big enough to drag children and dogs into their lair. An elven girl once slept near the sewer for an hour. When she woke up, her ears were chewed.”
He makes a cross gesture to his own ear and Nel lets out a soft whimper. It is so like my Nel to befriend someone strange like this guy. But this bastard has only made her sad and scared so far.
I move past him.
Shade scratches the back of his neck. “Don’t go there. Those dumbfucks are using…”
His warning means nothing to me.
“Asterdust?” Rhianelle’s grip on my hair tightens with her shock. “But it’s forbidden.”
“Some of us need it to kill time,” he says tediously. “Your uncle may have paid the guild well, but the Grimsbane are assassins, not watchdogs.”
Nel falls silent on top of me.
“It’ll be fine,” Shade reassures her. “War is upon us. Soon their thirst for blood and chaos will be satiated.”
Her heart rate speeds up at his words and I decide it’s time to part ways with the grey-haired fucker.
After a short walk, Rhianelle taps my shoulder, signaling me to put her down. “Svenn… I left my book in the clearing.”
“Stay,” I tell her.
This is the closest we’ve ever been to each other since our wedding night. I run my hand over the smooth skin of her leg. Her bone feels easily breakable in my grip.
Too fragile.
“I never did apologize for trying to kill you,” I suddenly say. “I’m sorry.”
For fucking up your life. For everything.
She readjusts her position on my shoulder a little. “Was it because you’re afraid the Rhunhraefn will corrupt me like the other curse bearers?”
I don’t have a good answer to that. “Yes.”
“Do you still want to kill me?” she asks again, her voice is a whisper.
“No.”
That I am certain.
Rhianelle is silent for a moment.
“Can I ask you for a favor?” she asks.
Here it comes.
What will it be? Will she send me to kill Eirik Bloodhound now? Will she force me to kill every one of her enemies and rescue her friend? Will she ask me to reveal my power so she can parade it in front of her council?
“Can you go over there?” She points to a tree.
I oblige to the request without question. A strange feeling twitches in my chest when she slips away from me to climb the trunk.
She passes her green cloak into my hand. “Hold this and spread it out.”
Once again, I carry out her strange bidding.
The girl climbs higher, disappearing into the green foliage. Leaves rustle and mangoes begin dropping into the cloth in my hand.
“I’ve been eyeing them for quite a while now. It’s such a waste to let them fall and rot.”
It’s the longest speech Rhianelle ever uttered to me all week. I’m starved for the sound of her voice, so I listen to every word. Even if it’s just about fucking fruits.
After the eighteenth mango plops into my catch, the girl materializes on one of the branches, ready to jump to the forest floor like a cat.
“Come down this way.” I hold out my hand to reach her.
Rhianelle looks almost grateful for my offer. I know her left leg hurts from time to time and she does her best not to strain it. She carefully steps on my chest, searching the contours of my body for purchase. My cock takes notice everywhere she touches.
Blood rushes to her cheeks when she accidentally grazes my bulge. “I didn’t mean to do that. Sorry.”
“It feels intentional,” I mutter as soon as she touches solid ground.
She looks like she wants to throw something at my head. The mango in her hand, most likely. But of course, sweet Rhianelle doesn’t do it. She simply glares, her bottom lip quivering.
“Let me get my book and we can go,” she mutters, taking the sack from my hands.
I watch her silently as she gathers the giant tome from the grass. “Rhianelle.”
“Hmm?”
“Is that all you need from me?” I ask again.
Come on, there has to be more.
The girl stares off into the far distant; her face contorting into something stern.
I hold my breath for that order.
That fucking demand to destroy cities into rubble, to burn fleets into ashes, to bring kingdoms to their knees, to annihilate every single one of her enemies.
Rhianelle turns to me, her eyes equally serious. “The apples aren’t ripe for plucking yet. But when the time comes, I will need help.”
I force myself to swallow my dry throat.
She could have commanded me to do whatever she wants with the Rhunhraefn. Centuries worth of training in the Orynmor cave, countless of trials surpassed in Perrynvale. Bas would laugh his ass off if he knew how I ended up becoming a glorified ladder for my wife.
We walk in silence, mostly because I’m still confused as fuck that she doesn’t possess an ounce of desire to use me.
“How would you like to divide the mangoes?” she asks, matching my stride.
“You can have them all,” I say easily.
“Really?” she asks, her eyes twinkling with delight.
I nod.
And I’m rewarded with her smile.
The girl has to jog three steps for every one of mine. I have half my mind to simply throw her back on my shoulders. Once again, I am possessed by a need to hold her and never let go. The urge to grab her into my arms is so strong I almost yield.
This is just the strange bond taking effect. If I tell myself that lie over and over, perhaps I will believe it.
“But isn’t this stealing, little mango thief?” I ask as soon as we reach the courtyard.
The girl freezes in her steps.
Her eyes blink.
Once. Twice.
“That’s right… I haven’t asked for Lord Wesley’s permission.” Her body trembles and she doesn’t move from her spot. It almost looks as if she’s malfunctioning for a moment.
“What have I done?” she mutters silently.
It was just a stupid jest from me, one I’m severely regretting right now.
Rhianelle looks horrified and pale like she had just committed the heist of the century. They’re just mangoes for gods’ sake.
“Can we put it back?” she asks with a whimper.
“It’s too late for that now,” I say quickly. “Better hide your loot. Someone is coming.”
Heavy footsteps march towards us at a steady pace.
The first to appear at the turn of the passage is a broad-shouldered male with short-cropped copper hair. A sense of authority ripples through him, from his manners to his well-tailored suit. The purposeful gait and weapon suggest he is built for battle as well as court.
His unwavering gaze meets mine for several seconds before they fall to Rhianelle. I don’t catch the flinch or falter in his heart rate over my presence.
Brave, I suppose.
The same can’t be said to the two cowering guards trailing behind him. Their fear is tangible and displayed clearly in the bulging whites of their eyes.
I’ve killed people for crowns, weapons, and kingdoms before. Today I will kill them for mangoes.
Rhianelle steps forward to greet them.
“Your Highness, I hope you’re having a lovely evening—”
“I stole your fruits,” she confesses immediately.
What a terrible thief… I almost shake my head.
A suffocating silence falls in the hallway as the lord stares at her with confusion in his eyes. I calculate the best angle to slash his throat without splattering blood all over us.
But the male responds with a warm chuckle. “The orchard and garden have been abandoned after Vincent’s passing. I can’t afford to spare someone to tend to them with the orc’s frequent attacks on the border. You’re welcome to take anything you want, Your Highness.”
The guy speaks to her at a respectable distance but it’s still a little too close for my liking.
“Thank—”
“Rainer mentioned to me of your love for books,” he interrupts her gratitude.
Nel gives him a light nod. “I do love them.”
I hate it when another male talks to her as if he knows her better than I do. They probably do know her better. But I fucking hate it.
“This is a key to my private collection in the library.” The lord awards a small medallion to the palm of her hand. “It’s nothing like the Towers of Tarnarys or the Grand Valor Emporium in the Capital but I am quite proud of it.”
He gives her a smile that makes my guts clench.
Congratulations, fucker. You’re now on the same shit list as Red and Shade.
The lord’s tawny eyes finally meet mine, fear and wariness glimmering in them. “Everyone in the keep is well aware of your presence, but I can’t have you venturing my city just yet.”
I give him a curt nod. One of his guards nearly sinks to his knees at the movement.
His discomfort with my presence visibly grows, but he continues, “The wood behind this castle has some game animals and smaller prey if you need to… hunt.”
I know… I caught a little fawn today.
He takes his leave swiftly after relaying that message. Rhianelle watches silently as the lord and his guards saunter down the hall.
A mischievous grin spreads across her lips. She takes another peek in her makeshift sack, staring at the content with starry-wide eyes as if they’re gold bars instead of mangoes.
“All mine now.” She struts down the hallway with a merry hum, guiding me toward the kitchen.
Her pulse flutters with excitement and my gaze spontaneously drops to the base of her neck. It takes all of my self-control not to lean in and inhale that sweet scent again. How delicious would it be to run my tongue over her skin, to taste her and hear the sweet moan from her throat.
Calm down, I warn my heart and my cock. Neither one of those fuckers listens when it comes to her.
I’ve met countless of women in my existence, but she is the first to have me feeling unsettled, to have me doubting my moves. I am even aware of the way I’m breathing around her.
Now that we’re among other people, Rhianelle corrects her gait and pretends to walk normally again. Something cracks in my chest at the sight of it. I realize the truth right then.
I care for the girl. More than I like to admit.
If the command doesn’t come, then perhaps it’s time I offer it to her.