Chapter 17
A yelp echoed across the clearing as I opened a portal behind the vampire guard, forcing him through with a pulse of frigid air.
A distant splash confirmed that he had landed exactly where I wanted him to, in the nearby creek.
I raised an elemental ward. It surrounded me like a shield, the air rippling for a moment before disappearing from view.
A second guard charged me, wooden sword drawn.
Enhart had been eager to allow my sparring partners to carry actual weaponry, convinced that the threat of steel would sharpen my response time.
Mordric, however, would hear none of it.
In fact, the King wasn’t too pleased to hear I was training in combat magic to begin with.
He called it frivolous, arguing, much like I had at first, that we were a kingdom at peace.
He had debated the subject back and forth with Enhart one evening after Dr. Murrows had to set my wrist following a bad fall. I had watched on awkwardly while the physician completely ignored them. He was good at that.
Although I would never admit it to Enhart, I was actually quite pleased with this turn of events, sore muscles and broken wrist aside.
It allowed me to combine all the elements of my craft, even psychal.
I still struggled to read my opponents’ thoughts quickly enough before they struck, but I could scarcely believe how far I’d come since the winter solstice.
I could even see a change in my body. My muscles were becoming subtly more defined beneath my training garb, my stamina increasing with every session.
A cry caught my attention as Figgins, a burly guard, charged me. I grinned. Humans were much easier to anticipate than vampires. Just like Enhart had said a thousand times. They were so godsdamn loud. He collided with my ward and was forced backward, landing on his rear with a grunt.
“Well done.”
My head snapped up to see the King standing by the edge of the field. A soft smile played on his lips. I returned it, patting Figgins gently on the shoulder. The guard’s face was beet-red, his breathing labored.
“Are you alright?” I asked, staggering under the weight of both the burly guard and his armor as I helped him to his feet.
“Better than Hugo, I daresay,” he wheezed, referring to his brother-at-arms, whom I had sent hurtling into the creek. “Should’ve known there was a ward there.”
I chuckled sheepishly.
Mordric approached, the prince trailing languidly after him. He’d been sequestered in council meetings for several evenings in a row, so I was relieved to see him. “I’m impressed,” he said. “What do you think, Enhart?”
He shrugged. “Her technique needs work, and she still fails to best me nine times out of ten.”
I frowned. As far as his insults went, it could be worse, but it still stung.
“Mind if I spirit your pupil away for the evening?” Mordric asked, his eyes trained on me.
Enhart’s hesitation was so brief it was nearly imperceptible. “Be my guest,” came the response. “We were finished anyway.”
I grinned as Mordric took my hand in his, leading me toward the castle. “How are you?” he asked after we were some distance away. “Any more injuries I should be worried about?”
I chuckled. “Not since the last one, fortunately.”
Technically it had been my fault, as I had miscalculated while phasing and careened straight into a ravine. However, Enhart’s comment had rubbed me the wrong way, so I kept that rather embarrassing fact to myself.
“Are your meetings adjourned for now?” I asked instead. What he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.
“Thankfully, yes. I couldn’t stand the sight of Ansell’s withered face for one minute longer.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Trade disputes, some trouble along the eastern border, but there will be plenty of time for you to worry about these matters later. For now, let’s enjoy our evening free from the burdens of our stations, shall we?”
I squeezed his hand. “Of course, my king.”
“How about a nice warm bath?” he offered. “Soothe those sore muscles?”
“Sounds heavenly.”
We arrived in my chambers, where Mordric took care to remove my weathered clothing, soiled with dirt and sweat from an evening of training.
I sighed as he helped me into the bath, which had been drawn before we arrived.
I spread my fingers, allowing the heat of my magic to warm the lavender-scented water around me until the temperature was just right.
His clothes hit the tile floor with a thump, the water sloshing as he settled opposite me.
He took my foot in his hands, massaging it firmly as my head tilted back, my tresses hanging loosely over the edge of the tub. My eyelids fluttered then closed.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in days,” he said.
“Miss me, do you?”
“Yes.”
There was an unfamiliar edge to his voice. When I blinked my eyes open, he was smiling. But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I—”
“I’ve been thinking,” he said before I could get another word out. “About our conversation the night of Iltsar.”
My pulse quickened. “And?” I whispered as he lowered my leg gently beneath the warm water.
I yelped as he pulled me into his lap, the soapsuds sliding off my naked frame. He brought his lips to the hollow of my throat, tracing the gentle slope of my collarbone with his tongue.
“And I think it’s time we give it a try.”
I sucked in a breath. I’d anticipated this moment ever since that night, hoping every time he held me in his arms that he would finally relent. Beneath the water, his hand tightened around my thigh, sending chills skittering up the muscle.
“Why now?” I asked, sliding my hands around his neck.
He grinned. “The sharing of blood is not something vampires should take lightly, although many do. I needed time to think it over and give myself the space to do it right. I’m ready now.”
I pressed my forehead to his, drinking in his scent.
“Unless you’ve changed your mind?” he added.
“I haven’t,” I promised.
He pulled away from me, fixing me with a stern look. “You’re absolutely certain?”
I nodded vigorously. “I’m certain.”
His fingers slid along my hairline before curling around the back of my neck. A shiver rippled through me in its wake. I wriggled closer until our bodies were pressed together, anticipation pooling in my veins like magma.
“Will it hurt?” I whispered.
“At first, perhaps, but the pain will fade to pleasure fairly quickly.”
“And what will happen to you? Will it be—” I hesitated “—pleasurable?”
He chuckled. “It will.”
I glanced pointedly downward, drawing my bottom lip between my teeth.
“Are you certain about this?” he asked once again.
I had never been more certain about anything in my life. I kissed him in response, slipping my tongue between his lips.
“Yes.”
I sucked in a breath as he lowered the sharp points of his fangs to my skin.
We were pressed so close that I could feel his heart beating an urgent staccato against my own.
I supposed that even a vampire king could be nervous.
His breath tickled my skin as he paused, giving me time to become accustomed to the sensation of fangs against my throat.
I wasn’t certain how long we remained there, entangled like a wolf and its prey, but my desire swelled with every passing second.
I whimpered as he finally sank his fangs into me. I curled one hand around the back of his head, arching my back as blood rushed to the surface of my skin.
The sensation was nearly indescribable. He ravished the wound in my throat with his tongue, taking with him all the tension that had been boiling up inside me.
Enhart, Genevieve, and even my magic seemed to simply fade away.
As he drank, the sharp pain of the bite slowly surrendered to pleasure, just like he’d promised.
Why in the name of the gods had we waited so long to do this?
My eyelids fluttered shut. It was as if I was teetering on the edge of the world, the sting of his bite the only thing that kept me tethered to this plane.
He released me with a growl and leaned back, a grave expression on his face. His tongue flitted over his fangs as my blood dripped from his lips into the water.
“Mordric?” I asked, my brow creased in concern.
I shrieked as he lunged for me with a carnal snarl, pressing me backward.
Pain exploded at the base of my skull as my head collided with the cold porcelain.
Frothy water sloshed violently onto the tile.
I bucked in surprise as he buried his fangs in me again.
There was no pleasure in his bite this time. Only his raw, overwhelming thirst.
My eyes grew wide with realization. “Mordric,” I said sharply. “I think that’s enough.”
He growled in response. Instead of releasing me, he gripped my throat with both hands, tilting my head at an uncomfortable angle.
The temperature of the water seemed to plummet as he pinned me there. My vision narrowed to a point. The stream of blood flowed feverishly into his mouth now. It spilled from his lips, turning the water crimson.
Too much blood.
My pulse rang in my ears as my magic sparked to life. Heat surged through me, preparing to launch itself into the world. But it was short-lived. My will sputtered and died like a doused candle. I was powerless.
Panic seized me. I tried desperately to pry his hands off of me, but my flailing was useless.
My feet slipped against the porcelain, sending more water spilling over the lip of the tub.
He was a thousand times stronger than me, and though I struggled like a wild beast, leaving scratches down his arms, there was no escape.
My eyelids fluttered feebly and closed.
I heard a distant bang.
My skin tore as he was ripped away, blood gushing from my throat in his wake.
I slid downward until copper-scented bubbles tickled my nose.
Frantic footsteps splashed through the water that had spilled onto the floor.
A chorus of bone-chilling snarls erupted around me followed by an earsplitting crash.
I whimpered at a sudden pressure against the gaping wound on my neck.
The pain was agonizing, like someone had put a burning torch to my flesh.
“Don’t do this,” urged a voice. It sounded far away. “Open your eyes.”
I didn’t want to open my eyes. I wanted to sleep.
“Get him under control!” The crashing intensified, as if a tempest had collapsed the walls around us.
The pressure grew worse. Something warm splashed across my face.
As I opened my mouth to protest, it seeped between my lips.
It was foreign. Viscous. Delicious. Like something that should be served at the table of the gods.
Trapped somewhere between confusion and pleasure, I explored the source with my tongue.
The warmth that had been leeched from my body slowly trickled back, spreading from my lips to my extremities.
Beads of sweat pearled on my chest as I drank. I was consumed by hunger, sinking my nails into something soft as the liquid spilled down my throat. My surroundings slowly came into focus.
I snarled like a feral cat when the stream was unceremoniously stoppered. I needed more. Furious, I glanced up and found myself staring into the face of a vampire. Mordric.
No, not Mordric. As his face came into focus, I realized that the curve of the cheekbones was sharper, the hair shorter. And the eyes, the eyes were entirely the wrong color.
Enhart’s face was the last thing I saw before everything went black.