Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
JULIET
V alaric falls to his knees, and I rush forward, catching him around his shoulders to steady him. Worry tightens my chest at the jagged claw marks etched deep in his flesh. Blood pours from the wounds. The sharp scent of iron so thick in the air, I taste it on my tongue. “You’re hurt. We need to find a healer.”
His face twists in a pained grimace as he pushes himself back up to standing. “There is no need,” he rasps. “I will heal on my own. It will simply take time.”
Panic fills me as the sky begins to lighten in the east, heralding the coming dawn. The wind has picked up and the snowfall is much heavier than it was when I first left the castle.
Time is the one thing we don’t have.
“Come on.” I drape Valaric’s arm over my shoulder and wrap my other arm around his waist as I guide him to the mare. “We need to get you on the horse so we can make it back to the castle before daylight.”
He shakes his head. “We won’t make it.”
“We have to try.” I struggle to keep my voice calm despite my worry. “How far away is Corvania?”
“Close.” He winces as he lifts a trembling hand to point toward the main road. “At the base of the mountain. But it’s not safe for you to be seen with me. The villagers fear my kind. I’m not at my full strength. They might try to harm you if we’re together. It’s safer for you to go on without me.”
After what I just saw him do to the snowcat, I can understand their concern. But as for myself, I’m not afraid. He saved my life. Again. And now, I am going to save him.
“Why would they be afraid of a Vampire? Corvania is part of the Vampire kingdom of Morrowynd.”
“Corvania used to be part of the human kingdom of Aralon before Vampires conquered it during the Blood Wars. Most of the villagers are human and harbor intense hatred toward my people.”
I want to ask why he thought it would be a good idea to take up residence in the castle nearby, knowing this, but decide to save my questions for later. He’s injured and I need to get him somewhere safe before the sun rises.
I gesture to the horse. “Can you ride?”
“I don’t want to put you in danger, Juliet. Leave me.”
“No,” I state firmly. “You are my husband; I won’t abandon you. Now, can you ride?”
Surprise flickers across his expression before he finally nods.
Fortunately, the chestnut mare is much calmer now that the snowcat is dead. With a great deal of effort, Valaric pulls himself up into the saddle. Thankfully he’s able to remain upright, despite the extent of his injuries.
Quickly, I climb into the saddle. Sitting in front of him, I glance over my shoulder. “Hold onto me.”
He wraps his arms around my waist. His lean, muscular form is so much larger than mine, I’m completely enveloped. He makes sure I’m protected from the cold by pulling my hood over my head and tucking my cloak tighter around my shoulders.
My heart clenches at this extra bit of care he gives me, even in his wounded state. Clicking my tongue, I urge the mare into a quick canter to guide her down the main road. The storm is growing worse and we must find shelter before sunrise. If we don’t, I doubt either of us will make it through the day.
Hope sparks in my chest when we reach the base of the mountain. In the heavy snowfall, I can just barely make out a thick stone wall and large wooden doors up ahead. As we approach the entrance of Corvania, I notice at least four guards walking back and forth along the top of the wall, each of them armed with bows and swords.
I twist back to Valaric. “Pull your hood over your head to hide your appearance. I’ll do the talking. All right?”
He draws his cloak tighter around him to hide his wings and obscure his face in the shadows of his hood before he gives me a subtle nod.
“Halt!” My heart slams in my chest as one of the guards calls out to us. “What business do you have in Corvania?”
The icy wind bites at my exposed face, and I squint my eyes against the wintry blast as I lower my hood. Cold fire fills my lungs with each breath as snowflakes catch in my hair and stick to my skin. “We’re travelers on the way to Aralon. My husband and I are seeking shelter from the storm.”
The guard studies me warily, and I do my best to keep my face impassive, trying to hide my worry. I pull lightly on the reins, causing the mare to dance back a few steps, readying to bolt if we must.
I rest my hand on Valaric’s forearm around my waist, silently conveying that we are in this together. I wonder if he can hear my rapidly beating heart as we wait anxiously for the guard to either allow or deny our entry.
After what feels like an eternity, the guard finally nods to another beside him and then yells out. “Open the gates!”
The heavy wooden doors groan as they swing open, and a blast of icy wind roars through the entry, tugging at our cloaks and swirling snowflakes all around us as we enter.
I’m surprised by how quaint the village appears. Rows of gray stone buildings and small houses line the cobblestone streets. Black smoke curls up from chimneys on the snow-covered rooftops. Golden light spills out from windows, and fae lights glow brightly in the lampposts, illuminating the paths and walkways.
“There’s an inn over there.” Valaric points to a small building on the left.
A wooden sign hangs above the entrance, creaking loudly on rusted hinges as the strong wind sways it back and forth. A green dragon holding a flagon of ale is painted on the dark wood. “The Tipsy Dragon,” I murmur, reading the name of the establishment aloud.
Light from the windows brightens the snow-covered walkway outside. A festive wreath made of branches and greenery, threaded through with red ribbon, decorates the door. Worry tightens my chest when I notice the string of garlic hanging beside it.
I’ve heard Vampires are deterred by this, and I wonder if it’s true.
I fight the urge to glance back at Valaric, praying the garlic will not prevent him from entering. If it causes him any sort of discomfort, he doesn’t show it as he dismounts from behind me.
Despite his injuries, he wraps his strong hands around my waist and lifts me from the saddle to the ground as if I weigh nothing.
Thinking of his injuries, I gaze up at him. His cloak is wrapped around his body, hiding his wounds. His hood still covers his face, shrouding his features in darkness. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll live,” he murmurs.
While I’m sure he meant his answer to be reassuring, I still can’t help but worry. He needs a healer. I’m about to say this but stop when an elderly man approaches. “You planning to stay at the inn?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful!” He grins. “I’m Bernyd. Just knock on the door and my lovely wife, Minda, will show you to a room while I take your horse to the stables out back.”
I hand him the reins. Unease ripples through me as he disappears around the side of the building with our best means of escape if anyone discovers the truth about my husband.
Valaric stands beside me, his hand resting on the small of my back as we walk to the entrance. I lift the knocker and before it even clacks against the door, it opens and a woman with short, gray hair answers. “Greetings, weary travelers,” she says cheerily. “I’m Minda. Come in before the storm blows you away, never to be seen nor heard from again.”
Despite my concern, a smile crests my lips at her warm welcome. “We apologize for arriving at such an odd hour. But my husband and I were on our way to Aralon when the heavy snowfall started, and we thought it’d be best to find a place to shelter until it passes.”
With dawn quickly approaching, I’m anxious to get a room.
“Of course.” She grins. “You’ve come to the right place. We’ve plenty of warm beds, food, drink, and hospitality here. Would you like something to—”
“If you could just show us to our room. We’re rather exhausted from our journey.”
“I’ll bet you are.” She frowns. “Did you come by way of Redcrest or Darkhaven?”
I’m not familiar with either of these places, and I’m not sure how to reply.
“Darkhaven,” Valaric answers, his face still hidden in shadow. “Too many Vampires in Redcrest.”
“Aye.” She nods. “’Tis the safer choice for sure. The good news is there aren’t any Vampires here in Corvania, and you’re less than an hour’s ride from Aralon.”
“Wonderful.” I force a bright smile on my face despite my growing anxiety. “We’ll sleep all the better then.”
“Follow me,” Minda says.
She leads us down a wide hallway, past several portraits of what I assume must be her ancestors or relatives, along with several shelves of various knickknacks and books. At the end of the hall, she stops at a door on the left. “This one is yours,” she says, using a key to turn the lock. “It comes with a cleansing room attached. Would you like me to draw you a bath?”
Before I can reply, she opens the door and Valaric shrinks back with a sharp hiss as early morning light filters in through the threadbare curtains.
Minda whips her head back to him. “Everything all right?”
“Yes.” I step in front of my husband, giving her what I hope is my best smile. “Could we trouble you for a few more blankets?”
“Certainly.”
She starts to leave, but Valaric adds, “And some fresh clothing for myself and my wife. We will pay you for it, of course.”
She cocks her head to one side. “I noticed you don’t have a trunk or any belongings between the two of you.” She looks me up and down, arching a questioning brow. “Did you lose them during your travels?”
“Yes.” A bead of sweat trickles down my spine as I try to think of a plausible explanation as to how we lost our things. I’m a writer, so it should be easy to come up with something. The problem is, every excuse coming to mind right now is spinning into an elaborate tale more prone to fiction than reality.
I’m about to launch into an elaborate story about highway robbery, but Valaric interrupts. “We left them behind in Darkhaven so we could travel light through the Gavaryan forest.”
“Ah.” Minda nods, the suspicious look leaving her face. “A wise decision.”
I have no idea what she or Valaric are talking about, so I remain silent, worried that if I add anything, I’ll give away that we’re lying.
“You know, we’ve had quite a few travelers come through here lately,” she says. “Mostly those displaced by the war in Snowhelm. They say the mages already killed the royal family there, and it’s only a matter of time before the whole kingdom falls. And we’ve had several coming down from the north as well. All of them heading to Aralon,” she adds. “Seems everyone is going there these days.” She looks at me. “Is that where you’re from originally?”
“Yes,” Valaric replies. “We’re both from Aralon.”
She hesitates a beat, and I worry she’s going to question us further. I want her to leave so I can tend to Valaric’s injuries. Thankfully, she simply nods. “Well, as soon as the storm clears, you’re less than a day’s ride from the border. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back with those extra blankets and clothes,” she says before hurrying back down the hallway.
As soon as she’s gone, I rip the comforter off the bed and throw it over Valaric to protect him from the sun. I guide him to the far corner of the room, to a sofa next to the fireplace with a roaring fire. It’s the farthest location from the windows and the only area that sunlight doesn’t touch.
“Stay here,” I speak in a low voice. “I’ll cover the windows when she returns with the blankets.”
From beneath his hood, his red eyes meet mine as he gives me a subtle nod.
The room may be a bit on the small side, but at least it’s clean. On the opposite wall is a four-poster bed, layered with blankets, furs, and pillows. A large quilt is folded neatly on the chair beside it. Near the door is a dresser with extra sheets in the drawers.
Minda returns with two more thick blankets and a folded stack of clothes. “I brought you both something to sleep in as well as regular clothing to change into after you’ve rested.”
“Thank you.” I remove the small pouch from my dress and pull out seven gold coins. More than enough for a week’s stay at one of the finest hotels in Aralon. Which this place is not.
Her eyes widen as I drop them into her palm.
“We’re exhausted and we’ll probably be sleeping most of the day, but I’d like to reserve a meal for dinner, if it’s not too much trouble.”
She lifts one of the coins to her mouth, biting it to test the metal. Her face lights up when she’s satisfied it’s real. “No trouble at all.” She grins. “The dining room is just off the entryway. I’ll make sure to set aside two plates for you both.”
When she leaves, I close the door and lock it. Quickly, I take the extra blankets and cover the threadbare curtains on the two windows, making sure they’re secure. A faint glow surrounds the edges, but it’s better than nothing.
Leaning all my weight against it, I push the dresser in front of the door. It may not completely stop someone determined to break in, but at least it would provide some sort of resistance and give us a bit of warning.
“You are expecting trouble,” Valaric says from the shadows.
“You said the humans in this village don’t like Vampires,” I remind him. “And judging from what she said about your people, I figure we cannot be too careful.”
Quickly, I light a few candles to illuminate our room. Stripping another blanket and quilt off the bed, I walk over to Valaric. I position two wooden chairs across from the sofa, but far enough away from the fireplace to avoid any stray sparks. Then, I spread the thick quilt on the ground between the couch and chairs and add a couple of pillows as well.
“You can sleep there,” I tell him.
His brow furrows, but he remains silent as he sits down on the nest of a bed while I drape the thicker comforter over the top of the sofa and chairs to block out the stray sunlight seeping around the edges of the covered windows.
“My brother and I used to do this when we were younger,” I explain as I secure the corners of the material to make sure they don’t collapse. “We’d pretend it was a fort, and we were defending ourselves against an army of ogres, trying to invade.”
“I’m not sure about ogres,” he says, a teasing smile playing across his lips. “But this will definitely protect me from the sun. Thank you, Juliet.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” I tell him. “We need to take care of your wounds.”
I remove my shoes and my heavy cloak, hanging it near the mantle to dry the melting snow from the fabric. The hem of my dress is damp as well. It will need to be removed before I sleep, but first I must tend Valaric’s injuries. Everything else can wait.
Across the way is a door to the cleansing room. It’s sparse but clean, with a sink, a clawfoot tub, several clean towels and soap, and a toilet in the far corner. A tiny square window is centered above the bath, and I add a towel over the curtain to block the sunlight from outside.
Quickly, I retrieve a bowl of warm water and a few fresh towels. When I crawl into the blanket fort, Valaric blinks at me in confusion.
“Take off your cloak and shirt so I can cleanse your wounds,” I instruct him.
“There is no need. My injuries will—”
“You’re covered in blood, Valaric. You cannot sleep like that.”
I half expect him to argue, but instead he removes his cloak, tunic, and boots, leaving him in only his dark pants.
I inhale sharply as I take in the extent of his wounds. The marks are even deeper than I thought. If he were human, I’m almost certain these injuries would have been fatal.
“You see?” He points to his chest. “I am already healing.”
It was so dark in the forest I couldn’t see his wounds very clearly then. But if he thinks this is an improvement, I shudder to think of what they looked like originally. Blood seeps steadily from the marks. I worry my bottom lip. “Does it pain you?”
“My tolerance for such things is high.”
As my gaze travels over his bare torso, I note several scars—the silver-white lines a stark contrast to his already pale skin. It seems he is no stranger to pain. I would expect a warrior to have scars such as these, not a lord, and I wonder how he got them.
I dip one of the towels in warm water and then run it lightly over his chest. He clenches his jaw, trying to hide his discomfort, but a soft hiss escapes through his clenched teeth when I touch the edge of his wound, the cloth snagging on the torn and jagged flesh.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he replies stiffly.
Wiping away the dark blood staining his moonlight pale skin. The glow of the fire carves his figure in shadow and light, accentuating his broad shoulders, the muscular expanse of his chest, and his finely chiseled abdomen.
Heat flushes my cheeks as I move the cloth over the claw marks across his stomach. His breath hitches when I reach the waistband of his pants, and he catches my wrist, lifting it away from his skin.
I glance up to find his eyes locked on mine with burning intensity.
“Did I hurt you?”
He swallows hard. “Quite the opposite,” he grits through his teeth.
I frown, but when I look down, I notice the telltale bulge in his pants. Hot embarrassment scorches through me. I’ve never seen a man fully unclothed before, but I’ve seen images in books.
Mother tried her best to explain the marriage bed to me, but I wonder if Vampires are the same as human males when it comes to their anatomy. Despite my best efforts not to look, my gaze drops again to the sizable swelling in his pants.
I lift my gaze back up to Valaric. His eyes are dark with unmistakable desire. Nervous butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I quickly look away.
“I’m fine,” he says, his voice low and deep. “You do not need to continue.”
Dark blood still seeps from his deep wounds. “No, you’re not.” Despite my nerves, I force my gaze back to his. “I’m your wife. Let me help you.”
His piercing eyes search mine a moment before he finally releases me so I may continue. As he lowers his hand, I catch a glimpse of a strange mark on the inside of his wrist. It looks like a tattoo or a rune of some sort—a straight line with two branches extending out near the top. “What does that mean?” I gesture to it, curious.
Valaric goes still and then turns his wrist down so I can no longer see it. “Nothing important,” he replies, but the tense set of his jaw tells me otherwise.
Whatever it is, he obviously doesn’t want to discuss it, so I change the subject. “You said you will heal,” I remind him as I tear one of the larger towels into strips to use as bandages, and then wrap them around his torso, careful of his wings. “How long will it take?”
“It depends,” he replies cryptically.
“On what?”
He works his lower jaw a moment as if hesitant to answer before he finally says, “If I partake of any blood.”
I frown. “But I saw you kill the snowcat. You—” I stop abruptly as his eyes dart to my neck before he quickly averts his gaze. “Would my blood help you to heal faster?”
I’m surprised at the flash of guilt in his expression before he turns his head, staring at the fire. “You are not fully healed yourself,” he replies, confirming that I’m right.
Warm firelight dances across his tortured expression. He retrains his face into a stoic mask, trying to conceal his pain. “I will be fine,” he murmurs. “My kind heal quickly.”
My husband is definitely not the monster I feared him to be when we first met. If he were, he would simply take what he needed. Instead, he suffers to spare me any discomfort.
“It’s all right.” I tilt my head slightly to one side to give him access to my neck. “I want to help you.”
His pupils widen and his nostrils flare. “Why do you offer yourself to me so freely? You ran away. Are you not still afraid of me?”
“I didn’t run away.”
His gaze holds mine, but he says nothing, obviously not convinced.
“And I was afraid,” I admit. “But I’m not anymore.”
“What has changed between now and then?”
Everything. “You saved me when you didn’t have to. You could have demanded my blood because it is part of our bargain, but you haven’t, even though I know you’re in pain.” I search his eyes. “I believe you are a good man, Valaric.”
Something akin to guilt flits briefly across his face before his expression hardens. “I’m not a man,” he says darkly. “I am a Vampire. Do not mistake me for something I am not.”
“I know what you are,” I stress. I want him to understand that I’m not scared. He is my husband, and I want to help him. “You will have to do this eventually. Why not now?”
“Because once I do, you will fear me.” A muscle tics along the edge of his jaw before he looks away again. “It is the way this always goes.”
Always? I’m confused a moment before realization dawns. “You’ve been married before.”
He nods.
My heart sinks. I’m not sure why his answer troubles me so much. It’s not as if we are in love. We may be wed, but we are still relative strangers to one another.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask about his previous wife and what happened to her—how she died. If she were still alive, he wouldn’t be married to me.
One thing I’m sure of, however, is that her death could not have been by his hand. If he had a cruel nature, I would have seen it by now. He could have harmed me or forced me to be his blood slave, but he has not. Instead, he looks guilty at the mere thought of taking my blood, despite that it is part of our arrangement.
“I’m not afraid of you, Valaric.” Surprise flickers across his face. “And we don’t know how long we’ll have to stay here. You’re hurt and you need to heal.”
As if to prove my point, the wind howls around the building as the snowstorm rages outside. I glance again at his bandages, remembering the vicious claw marks scored across his chest and abdomen. He saved my life. Those injuries could have been mine if not for him.
He opens his mouth as if to protest, but I press a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Please, I don’t want to argue about this.” I turn my back to him, sitting on my knees. “Before we do this, I need your help removing my dress.”
I pull my hair forward, over my shoulder, exposing my back and the long row of buttons he’ll need to unfasten.
A soft intake of air is his only response at first before I feel him settle on his knees behind me. Slowly, he begins to undo them.
His breath is warm on my neck, and I draw in a shaking breath as my gown falls loose with each unfastened button. My heart is beating so loudly I’m sure he can hear it.
When he reaches the small of my back, his fingers brush lightly against my thin shift, sending small shivers down my spine. Not from fear, but from something else entirely.
The warmth of his body radiates to mine as his rich, masculine scent surrounds and envelops me. I’ve never been touched like this before. Everything about this moment feels so intimate. I’ve read several romance novels, but none of them prepared me for the pleasurable, yearning sensation that curls in my lower abdomen at his nearness.
My heart flutters wildly as my dress slips down and pools around my waist before I remove it completely. Despite the heat of the fireplace, goosebumps rise along my flesh as I slowly turn back to face my new husband, dressed in only my linen shift.
His pupils expand and I feel like a bird trapped in a serpent’s gaze as his crimson eyes travel down my form, desire and hunger burning in their depths. “You are beautiful,” he says, voice rough. “Perfect.”
Heat floods my cheeks at his praise.
His fangs lengthen, and he flexes and extends his fingers, as if fighting the urge to reach for me.
Taking a deep breath, I move closer and pull my hair to one side, exposing my neck. “It’s all right,” I whisper. “I am ready.”