Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
JULIET
“ I need you to understand something.” Valaric’s piercing gaze holds mine. “It has been over fifty years since I was human, Juliet.” As if to emphasize his point, he places two claw-tipped fingers under my chin, and his eyes swirl with black as he tips my face up to his. “I have seen things that you could only imagine and done things that I’d rather you not. The world is full of darkness and when you cannot walk in the light, the dark is all you can see. And the darkness is what you become.”
He clenches his jaw. “I want to be more than I am. But the truth is, I am a predator—a creature of the night. I know you’ve offered to keep my schedule, but you are meant to walk in daylight. You do not have to chain yourself to this eternal darkness for me.”
“I know what you are, Valaric, and I understand that Vampires are dangerous.” I meet his gaze evenly so he can see the truth of my words. “But you are not a danger to me. You didn’t have to take me as your true wife. You could have just as easily made me your blood wife, but you did not.
“Your people are much stronger and faster than mine. You could have taken anything you wanted, without my consent. Instead, you have protected and cared for me.” I tug at the hem of his cape, around my shoulders. “Just like how you noticed I was cold without me even saying anything, and you gave me your cloak.”
I take his hand in my own. “Perhaps I will choose to spend some of my days in the sun. But for now, I find that I am learning to appreciate the moon and the stars with my husband.”
He blinks at me, and the darkness recedes from his eyes as they turn red once again.
“So stop telling me that you’re a monster. I know what I’ve married, and you are more than that. I am choosing to give us a chance, Valaric.” I thread my fingers through his. “Will you do the same?”
His mouth drifts open as if he cannot believe what I’ve just said. After a moment, he nods. “Yes.”
I smile, glad that we’ve finally come to an understanding.
Heat pulses through me as I recall his hands on my body and his warm breath skating across my skin. After our time at the inn and the moment we just shared in the kitchen, I know for certain that I want so much more than simple companionship with my husband.
Valaric leads me to the study. A large sofa and two chairs sit before the hearth. A piano is positioned in the corner on the left side of the room, near a series of built-in shelves that hold a rather impressive number of books.
A row of windows lines the opposite wall. The curtains are pulled back, revealing a view of the gardens and the mountains beyond. The stars are brilliant pinpoints of light scattered across the darkened sky. “This is absolutely breathtaking,” I murmur, more to myself than to him.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says, his voice smooth as velvet.
Although it is beautiful, it’s so very remote. My heart clenches as I wonder how many years Valaric was alone here. There is still so much I do not know about my husband.
“What do you normally do to pass the nights?”
“When I am not out hunting, I often read.”
I walk to the bookshelf, studying the various titles. Many of the books are in good condition, but some look so worn, I worry they might fall apart at the slightest touch.
They are written in various languages. Most I recognize, but there are a few, especially among the more weathered book spines, that I’ve never seen before. “What is this language?”
Valaric studies it a moment before responding. “It is a dead language, the written word of the original Vampires—the Ancient Ones. Damar found these tomes on one of his travels.”
“What are they about?”
“They are interpretations of some of the writings and prophecies of the Lythyrians.”
“Lythyrians?” My ears perk up. “I thought they were nothing more than myth.”
He runs a finger lightly over one of the books. “I used to believe that as well.”
I stare at the tomes, in awe of the strange and swirling script along the spine. The stories I’ve heard claim the Lythyrians were a race of seers—able to discern the future.
“What happened to them?” I ask. “Why have they been relegated to legend if they were real?”
“They passed from this world many ages ago. No one knows how or why. Some of their writings and prophecies survived in a series of tomes discovered in the ancient ruins of their kingdom. But none of them have offered any explanation as to why they disappeared.”
He sighs heavily. “Damar is completely fascinated with these tomes. I was surprised he left them behind.”
His words suggest that he doesn’t expect to see Damar. At least, not anytime soon. While I’d like to ask more about him, I sense it’s a delicate situation and decide to change the subject.
“Do you ever use this?” I motion to the piano.
“Damar is the one who plays. What about you?”
“I’ve never learned,” I admit.
“What sort of things do you like to do?” he asks.
“I love reading.” I gaze at the books and heat flushes my face as I contemplate telling him something I’ve only told very few people. I’m about to lose my nerve, but when I turn back, I find his attention fully fixed upon me. As if he is truly interested in the answer and not simply asking just to make polite conversation. “I also love to write,” I add a bit hesitantly.
I brace myself for his judgment. Jonathan dismissed me when I first told him of my secret passion. So did my family and my best friend, Lucy. The only person who ever encouraged me when I said I wanted to be a writer, was my father.
Sometimes I feel like he was the only one who ever truly saw me.
Valaric’s eyebrows lift in a thoughtful expression. “What do you write?”
“Adventure stories.” I pause, waiting for his reaction. No hint of distaste enters his expression, emboldening me to continue. “With a bit of romance as well.”
Actually, it’s far more than a bit, but I’m not ready to reveal that just yet. I’m still waiting to see how he responds to what I’ve disclosed so far.
“I enjoy reading books full of adventure,” he muses. “I would like to read one of your stories, if that is all right with you.”
I bite my bottom lip to contain the excitement bubbling within. This is the first time anyone has shown any interest in my work. “Wait right here. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Rushing up the stairs, I retrieve my precious manuscript. Quickly, I carry it back down to the study and then present it to Valaric. My heart hammers as he takes a seat and carefully removes the ribbon holding the stacked, loose-leaf parchment.
He glances down at the first page—the title—murmuring to himself. “The Princess and the Knight.”
Hot embarrassment creeps up my neck. “The title isn’t final. It’s just… something I thought up to give it a name for now.”
He nods and then gently lays the title page face down on the table beside him so he can begin reading the first chapter.
A nervous knot forms in my stomach. I’ve never had someone actually read my stories before, and I’m both anxious and dreading to hear what he thinks.
Realizing that I’m hovering, I return to my seat on the sofa across from him, trying to pretend I’m not watching him closely, on pins and needles while I wait for his thoughts on my work.
He moves on to the next page and then lifts his gaze to me. “Would you like a desk for your writing?”
I’m surprised by his question. It’s more than my own family ever offered when I told them about my hobby. Mother thought it was scandalous for a woman of fine breeding to write stories. Especially ones with romance. She never once encouraged me, nor did she ever read them.
“I have one in my room.”
“I meant for here,” he explains. “You mentioned the view, and I thought… perhaps it might be conducive to—”
“Yes.” Softly, I bite my lower lip as I smile. “That would be lovely.”
He nods and then turns his attention back to my manuscript, while I pretend to study a book. Inside, I’m a flutter of nerves, waiting to hear what he thinks, for I can tell nothing from his impassive expression.
Time seems to move slowly as I wait for him to finish. Before I know it, a hint of light brightens the horizon in the distance, heralding the coming dawn, and he pulls the curtains closed.
I’m disappointed that he has said nothing of my story, but he’s not finished with it yet. So perhaps he is waiting until he’s done to give me his opinion.
“May I take this with me to read in bed?” he asks.
“Of course.”
I stand from the sofa and pick up my book. We can both read in bed before we fall asleep.
When he bids me goodnight and heads downstairs, I try my best to hide my frustration. I thought after spending the past few nights together in the inn that we would now be sharing a room, but it seems I was wrong.
I told Valaric I wanted a true marriage, but perhaps his definition of one does not include sleeping in the same bed as his wife. He wouldn’t be the first to do this, either. Lucy told me she and James were going to reside in different rooms after they were married.
It seemed rather unromantic, in my opinion, but Lucy did not seem bothered in the least.
As I lie down in my bed, my thoughts turn to my best friend. I remember nothing of Lucy’s wedding. The only thing I recall of that day is leaving in the carriage to attend the ceremony.
A cold shiver moves down my spine. Mother said I was beaten so badly I was nearly unrecognizable. I swallow hard, wishing once again that I could remember what happened, who assaulted me.
Not because I want to relive the trauma, but because I want my attacker brought to justice. I hate knowing that the person who tried to kill me is still out there, possibly preying upon someone else.
Strong winds buffet the windows, and I tuck myself deeper into the nest of blankets and furs as if that will somehow shield me from the dark thoughts that plague my mind.
Valaric says I’m safe here, but I still worry.
Despite the innkeeper’s reassurances, I fear the villagers may send a hunter to assassinate him now that they know what he is. I’m also concerned that my attacker knows I survived and they’re searching for me, wanting to finish what they started to make sure I don’t live long enough to remember who they were.
On top of all that, a small part of me worries that I will remember everything that happened. I’m not sure I want to recall the terrible details of how I came so close to death.
Closing my eyes, I turn onto my side and try to force myself to relax. I’m still not entirely used to sleeping during the day, but as my mind wanders, I slowly drift away into sleep and straight into a dream.
The sound of stringed instruments carries on the breeze as I walk through the gardens. I glance back at Brimley manor, gazing at the dancing couples through the ballroom windows.
Cold awareness prickles my skin, raising the hair on the back of my neck. I’ve never feared the dark, but I cannot ignore the feeling that something is out here, watching me.
A twig snaps behind me, and I spin back. The large shadow of a man peels away from the trees. His face is obscured in darkness. “Who are you?”
Instead of answering, he stalks toward me.
Cold fear trickles down my spine, and I turn and race for the manor. I open my mouth to call out for help, but something slams into my back, sending me sprawling to the ground. I scramble to push myself up, but I’m forced again to the dirt as someone crawls over me, pinning me in place.
A terror-filled cry rips from my throat as I scream into the night.