Page 13 of Born of Blood and Thorns

The shattered porcelain on the twin thrones seemed arranged in a deliberate pattern, and a chill went down my spine. It was as if their very souls were fractured and trapped here, unable to move on. What dark magic could accomplish such a terrible fate?

"Why are you still here?" His deep voice cut through the silence, forcing me to jump.

I inspected him momentarily, my gaze flicking back to the throne. "They are cursed, aren't they?" I asked, moving forward.

Only for him to round on me, forcing me to step back quickly before I lost my footing and stumbled backward. Pain flickered across his handsome features before he quickly stamped it down, his face turning into a mask of hardness. He expected fear, but I was used to being treated like shit by men.

Instead, I crossed my arms and glared. My early inspection continued as I noticed his clothing, while finely made, was very much out of date. He wore a long, embroidered tunic and a belt. Then beneath it were tight, form-fitting pants with tall, worn leather boots on his large feet. He had the body of a warrior used to battling with a sword. I knew just by a sniff that he held daggers on his person. The steel was sharp and metallic in the air. Despite that, he had forgone a sword. Those large hands were weapons enough.

He must have thought I wasn't a threat, and I supposed to him, I wasn't.

"Yes, they are cursed. So am I," he said through gritted teeth. As if it hurt him to admit it.

"Who cursed you?" I asked, squaring my shoulders as I felt the air spark at an oncoming fight.

He barreled toward me, his hulking, towering form pushing me further back until I felt the hard bite of the wall at my back. "Your people did," he spat. His face invaded my space, inches from mine.

My hands went up to protect myself, pushing against his chest. His muscles were tense beneath my fingers.

"My people?" I inquired while trying to push him away to no avail. I was weak, even with half-vampire blood running through my veins. I was nothing compared to him.

"I can smell death clinging to your skin. You belong to the moon, or at least you serve them." He leaned in, breathing in deeply. "Yet, there is something else. Something otherworldly. Why is a creature of the moon here? Did she send it to you?" he growled, pushing me further against the wall until there wasn't any space to breathe.

"Get off me, you creep!" I shouted, the sound echoing off the chamber. I felt my hands ball into fists as I pushed against him, feeling the swift rise of my heartbeat. I thought of the last time I'd been in a similar position, helpless against a man.

I knew my eyes had widened, and for a moment, I thought I saw regret in his gaze as he released me just enough that I could push him back a half step. I knew he'd allowed that, and my puny strength had been nothing.

He wasn't human, but I wasn't entirely sure what he was. Whatever he was, he was powerful. His aura alone brushed up against my skin, and it was intoxicating.

"Make me." He leaned over and growled in my ear, his hot breath warm. Which did funny things to me even though he was a stranger.

He had me against the wall, and he was threatening me. Yet, it was different somehow from Gideon. I had the distinct feeling that although he intentionally intimidated me, he'd never cross the line. My heart sped up, and I felt the warmth in his body. The intoxicating scent of firewood and cedar did odd things to me as a warmth spread deep in my center. I licked my lips.

He smirked as if he had read my reaction. The smug bastard merely smirked. I pressed my teeth together, my muscles tense, and my fists tightened as I felt the anger wash over me.

I kneed him in the balls, and he folded over. I kneed him in the face. "Don't you ever threaten me again!" I screamed in rage, feeling angrier at my reaction to him than what he'd done to me. I was used to alphas and men manhandling, threatening, and abusing me. I was done with it. Done with being weak and at the mercy of others.

I heard the laughter and the chuckle that sounded across the room. "Well then, Lore. You sure know how to pick up the ladies," someone with a thick accent said. It was one I couldn't place.

I turned to see another man, not as big as the redhead, who was now standing up to glare at me. He was broader in his shoulders but a few inches shorter. His hair was a shade of blond that seemed to shimmer bright in the sunlight but darkened as he stepped into the darkened room and away from the tall stained-glass windows. He wasn't nearly as handsome, either. The man called Lore had a rugged kind of attractiveness that made women swoon. Not pretty, but manly. This man looked ready to spend the night in the elements and live in a cabin all his days. Wildness was in his appearance; his hair was long, messy, and unkempt as if the forest had long since claimed him as her own.

Moments later, a busty pale-haired woman and her young boy barreled behind him through a door just past the man.

"Stay out of it, Alastair," the one called Lore spat toward the blond man, his eyes narrowing on him.

If the man called Alastair didn't hold an amused grin, I'd have thought them enemies. But he merely stood as if desperately trying not to laugh. Leaving me even more confused.

"Is it true?" the boy asked, the same shade of pale blond on his head as his bright green gaze shot to mine. "There's a lady here?" He smiled a toothy grin, one of his teeth missing.

The busty, plump, petite blond woman grabbed him, stopping him from barreling forward.

"She just got here, unfortunately," Lore, my assailant, muttered as he turned toward the odd bunch behind him. They, too, were dressed in outdated clothing, less refined than the man they'd called Lore.

"Your name is Lore?" I asked, changing my tone. I wasn't ready to leave. I knew if I did, the pack would find me and either tear me to shreds or pass me along as their personal whore. Neither sounded particularly pleasing.

"You simpleton," the woman said, a look of disapproval on her face as eyebrows furrowed. "Introduce yourself to the lady."

Lore had the good sense to look guilty at her tone and hard stare as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The thought of cookies made my stomach embarrassingly grumble so loud it, too, echoed through the room. I was mortified, but the woman's gaze softened, and she stepped forward.

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