Page 21 of Born of Blood and Thorns

I walked the length to what looked like a front gate. I leaned over, studying the vines that stopped where the stone crumbled in areas, and once again reached out to them to see if I could cut through them with my dagger. As I reached to slice through the nearest vine, something threw me backward off the wall and into a heap in the castle courtyard. I slammed into the ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs and bring stars to my eyes.

I rolled over and groaned, pulling my throbbing hands to my chest as the blood once again flowed freely. The sun over my head became heavily shadowed as I realized someone was standing over me, and slowly, I peeled my eyes open.

Eyes as blue as a cloudless day peered down at me from the most stupidly attractive face I'd ever seen. Too bad it belonged to one of the biggest prejudiced assholes I'd ever met.

"Done trying to escape?" he asked, studying me with an arrogant smirk.

"There's no way to get out, is there?" I groaned as I rolled over, ignoring his offered hand. As I stood, his eyes went to my bloody hand.

"Not unless it wants you to go." Lore's eyes were still on my hand as his nose flared.

"So that whole thing of wanting me out?"

He shrugged. "Wishful thinking." He moved closer, his eyes raking over my prone form. "Come, we need to get that treated quickly." His eyes landed firmly on my bleeding hand.

"Why? It's just a cut." I jerked back as he reached for my hand, refusing his help.

His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't reach for me again.

"Do you like your hand?" He sounded annoyed as if I were ruining his day with my existence. He threaded his hands through his auburn hair, pulling it from its tie as it came undone. The long strands brushed his broad shoulders.

I stared as my lips suddenly felt dry. I licked them. "What do you mean?" I asked, my pulse pounding again. His presence made my heart change cadence to its own rhythm, which seemed determined to beat its way straight out of my chest. Traitor.

"The thorns." He pointed to my hand.

"Yeah, and?" I asked sharply as I forced my breathing to slow. An odd flush was now spreading across my body.

Lore stepped toward me, his arms outstretched as I felt the world tilt on its axis. He grasped my arms, and I didn't jerk out of his grasp this time. "And," he snapped low before taking a deep breath and exhaling, speaking as if talking to an injured animal. " It's poisonous."

It was three steps before I stumbled. My tongue seemed to grow as every word I uttered sounded like I was talking with a ball in my mouth. Lore took pity on me, lifting me into his arms.

“Ith thar ah ahntihdoh?” I tried to utter, but it made no sense to my ears, and the drool that followed each carefully formed syllable was enough for me to shut my mouth and accept my fate.

"There is an antidote, yes."

Lore surprised me by deciphering my slurred and garbled words. My eyes must have shown my shock because he chuckled. The sound was deep and infectious, warm in a way that seemed in stark contrast to the situation. In his arms, I was close to him—me, the half-vampire enemy.

I was literally drooling all over him. Not in the oh, he's so attractive way—which he was, much to my chagrin—but in the literal sense. My head lolled to the side, and the spit in my mouth dribbled out and onto his now-wet shirt. Soon, it was drenched, and I wanted to die of mortification. Just my luck, I finally drooled for an attractive guy, and it was with actual drool.

I knew I needed to keep my guard up as Lore walked us through the courtyard, but soon, my head seemed to swim so fast that I closed my eyes. Lore's hand pressed my head down, and I felt it connect with his neck and shoulder. He no longer allowed my drool to wet his shirt but now his actual skin. If I wasn't in a dire situation, I'd snatch his dagger up and jam it in my heart just to end my embarrassment because how in the world could one person drool this much?

"Ith thenkth yew need ah nee…" I stopped as spittle flew at each word I tried to say, only furthering my humiliation. I wanted to tell him he needed a new shirt and to just put me down, but instead, more slobber covered us both. What the hell was in those thorns?

I closed my mouth tightly, trying my best not to further the issue, and rested my head against his skin.

Gods, he was warm, enveloping my senses like a toasty embrace. The crisp, earthy aroma of pine needles clung to his skin, evoking images of a lush, green forest after a morning rain. Beneath it lay traces of hickory wood smoke, tendrils of the rich smoldering scent wrapping around him and conjuring cozy evenings curled by a crackling fire.

The tantalizing hint of sweetness, some sugary and mysterious nectar, pulled me in like a siren's call, making my mouth water with longing. It conjured visions of lazy summer days filled with sticky fingertips and stolen kisses under the shade of a peach tree.

His scent was a delicious contradiction—the rugged wilderness and raw masculinity of the outdoors marbled with an irresistible sweetness and warmth. I breathed him in, letting his aroma fill my lungs and awaken my senses. He smelled like temptation, adventure, and comfort, all rolled into one intoxicating aroma that left me desperately craving more.

For a moment, I forgot I had been poisoned and almost choked on my tongue.

"Already?" a deep voice called somewhere in the distance, and I felt the atmosphere change.

A fire crackled in a fireplace, and the shuffling of feet sounded nearby. The aroma of freshly baked bread filled my senses, and I knew exactly where we were—in the kitchen. Cool hands touched my forehead, and I vaguely felt my body placed on a hard surface.

"She's turned feverish," Alysha's frantic voice admitted. "Get me the tonic and quick!" she yelled to someone.

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