Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tovi
White coated the sky and the forest, encompassing the land in an unnatural stillness.
The cold reminded Tovi too much of home.
It bit back, sucking away the wood’s beauty.
She trudged through the snow, a rather tedious endeavor, but her blood supplies were running low.
Tovi needed to stock up before she set out on her journey to return Drystan and assemble a force strong enough to beat Riven.
She could hear Lou’s ire for leaving the fortress alone, but Lou was gone, and Tovi would never hear her friend’s council again.
Despite the risk of venturing through the forest without a companion, Tovi’d encountered only a hare. It was the unlucky one, its blood now filled the vials in her satchel. The irony scent wafted from her side, and her fangs ached, refusing to retract.
She’d fed directly from the hare’s neck, too, enough blood to last her a few days, but the recent taste of blood awakened the curse.
Disdain battled her pride. No matter how sedated she felt, the curse always reared its viscous head when she drank blood.
She couldn’t outrun the need to feed, but Tovi had fought her baser instincts for centuries.
She’d endured the thrum through her veins after fresh blood before.
Today was no different.
She exhaled, her hot breath pluming across her line of sight. She gripped her bow tighter and retrieved an arrow on light, balanced feet. She’d grabbed the weapon on purpose. A true hunt. Not one of agile speed or sheathed talons, but skill.
Tovi cracked her neck, shut her eyes, and breathed in the scent of pine again.
Stillness. Breathe. Presence. Moments like this, weapon in hand, and out in the open air, in a land that held a similarity to the beauty of Drystan before the curse, was when Tovi felt most herself.
Not cursed. Not doomed. Nor a queen. Just her.
With a sigh, she unbuckled her satchel and counted the vials. Four full ones. Not enough to last the month, especially if she planned to travel with haste through Drystan.
Large flurries raced from the sky. Not ideal for hunting, but another smile tugged at her lips.
Her muscles vibrated with the promise of a challenge.
She climbed a slop dotted with ferns and reached a stretch of colder forest, the canopy thicker.
It had far less snow, and the little it did have was frozen solid.
Tovi boots didn’t sink, a welcome reprieve, but her heels crunched with each step.
Tovi glided on light feet to the nearest tree. Naked for the winter, the birch’s branches caged her in a crooked embrace. Back flush against the unfurling bark, she inhaled, shut her eyes, and listened past the stillness of the forest.
Snow landed with a gentle crackle, and—
Huff.
An animal snorted, close enough she scented its kind.
An elk—her favorite.
It munched on frosted grass. Tovi peered around the corner, muscles tightening in readiness. The elk’s antlers were rounded and wide, four points reaching to the sky. Fresh snow collected on the curves and lined its spine.
Set jaw, tight gaze, she studied the distance. Fifteen yards—a little too close.
Tovi’s heart raced in her chest. She’d have to wait for it to get further. One more yard, another . . .
Inch by inch, she nocked the arrow in place. Her bow groaned as she readied it. Snow kissed the arrow’s tip and caught in Tovi’s lashes. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
The elk wandered further away and turned, exposing its chest. There. Behind its shoulder—
Tovi released her arrow and breath.
The forest stilled aside from her shot. It whistled through silent flurries and then popped, hitting its target. Startled and injured, the elk fled, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.
Tovi trailed the beast out sight and waited.
Its last, hot breaths plumed over the snow, until it slacked slowly like it fell into a peaceful slumber.
Tovi sent a prayer to the Goddess, thanking her and the creature for its blood.
For its life. She promised to use its blood right, to take the kill into the village and allow the werewolves to use it, too.
Vial after vial, Tovi filled them with blood to last her weeks.
A shot in the morning, a droplet in her wine.
Her mind played through her feeding routine, a somewhat mundane task after so many years.
Lost to her own thoughts, she didn’t detect someone was near until it was too late—the sensation eyes were on her itched up her neck.
Tovi whirled with arrow nocked and bow stretched.
Gem eyes glinted past the iron tip of her arrow, a splendid contrast of color compared to the white landscape.
“Eldrick?”
He held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Tovi lowered her weapon, a response lost as her mouth dried. Sweat slicked her hands, and she shuffled to hide her vials. Fuck. Of all the things Eldrick could’ve stumbled upon, it was this—a blatant distinction that made her a vampyr.
But it was too late. He approached in that proud walk he always possessed, and his attention jumped between the elk’s slit throat and the vials.
“Let me help.”
Tovi turned as still as the forest’s icicles. A soft smile, gem eyes burrowing into her’s, tone reassuring, he meant it.
“You don’t have to—“
“I want to.”
Want.
What a dangerous word for both of them. Though it no longer mattered—she’d made her decision to leave and return home.
They were allies. Nothing more. Lou was gone, but her recent warnings were fresh.
Tovi wouldn’t let her desire for Eldrick get in the way of uniting her people under one banner, and in turn, it allowed her to run from fate and not have to face what Eldrick was to her.
“I only have four more to go,” she said, handing Eldrick two empty ones. “It’ll go by faster if you pass them to me, and I won’t say no to help with getting this beast back to the village.”
Eldrick nodded, crouching on the ground next to her. He weighed the glass vials in his hand, his gaze lingering on the broken arrow lodged into the animal’s shoulder. “An impressive shot, and your favorite, if I recall correctly.”
Tovi’s gut twisted. She wasn’t sure if she appreciated the normalcy of the conversation, or if it felt entirely wrong.
The fact he remembered her preference sent tingles to her toes, but it also made her fangs and core ache, desperate to weave feeding, pleasure, blood, and sex all into a blissful moment.
With him.
Bloody hel, Eldrick was dangerous. Tovi’s hand tightened on the vial as she filled it with blood, her fingers itching to write the word out and pin it on his chest, some sort of warning label so she could keep her wits.
At present, Tovi’s mind raced, leaving her off-balance.
Thank the Goddess they’d have miles separating them soon enough.
“This . . . doesn’t bother you?” she asked. The last time he’d faced Tovi in her vampyr element, he’d been terrified. Perhaps that’s why she was so unsettled—she didn’t care if he judged her, but it still stung.
Eldrick sighed and studied her. “Not anymore. Drinking blood is part of being a vampyr, isn’t it? Besides, I know you do this instead of feeding from . . . others.”
Tovi placed the vial in her satchel and indicated for another. “It scratches the itch.”
He passed it to her without even a flinch, not a shadow of disdain entering his eyes. Like two friends breaking down a hunt, nothing more. “When the curse is lifted, will you still need to drink blood?”
“Here and there,” Tovi said, not meeting his gaze. “Yen once told me werewolves need to shift from time to time.”
Eldrick nodded. “We do. Our inner beasts can get unruly.”
“Hunger is much the same, but once the curse is lifted, we won’t be bound by needing blood every three days. We get to determine how and when.”
Eldrick grunted his agreement. “How does that look?”
So many questions . . . Yet Tovi’s stomach fluttered, and she leaned into his curiosity.
“Usually, drinking blood is an intimate moment. Foreplay, sex, a sign of affection.” Tovi cleared her throat. Eldrick’s jaw tightened, but he handed her the last vial, nodding for her to go on. “It’s very common amongst mates, too.”
Eldrick’s brow pinched, a borderline scowl lining his face. “I’ve never heard you talk about mates before.”
“They’re rare,” she said. “Not for the reasons you may think, though. Female vampyrs are often married off before they have time to even meet their mates.”
“What a cruel practice.” Eldrick stared off into the forest, jaw ticking.
Anger wafted off him in waves, his inner wolf bristling in the air.
“But no one can outrun fate, not even the pompous lords of Drystan, marrying off their daughters.” He eyed her.
“Is that why you fought your parents on an arranged marriage? For the promise of meeting your mate?”
Tovi rose to her feet and released a light laugh. “I was thinking of freedom and nothing more, I’m afraid.”
And now?
The question hung in the air, like the slow, tranquil snow flurries. Tovi walked through them and moved onward.
“You deserve it—freedom, all of it. Don’t ever let anyone make you think otherwise,” Eldrick said.
Electricity shot through Tovi’s body, and something wedged into the crevices of her heart. It was like longing but more; beautiful but forbidden.
She unsheathed a knife, handed it to Eldrick, and found another she’d secured in her boot.
“Best we get started,” she said, words thick in her throat.
Eldrick shook his head, playful smile on his usually serious face. “Stars above, any more sharp things I should know about?”
Tovi flashed a fang. “Ten more if you count my talons.”
Their banter bled warmth into the air, and with it, they got busy skinning the beast. It wasn’t long before they’d broken it down completely and divided it into two game sleds, made with tarps and twine from Tovi’s satchel and sturdy oak branches Eldrick had secured.