Page 88 of Blood Match

“Darick,” Arabella warns, but I ignore her.

“Perhaps the witches are so desperate they’re resorting to sending children to do their work for them,” I say, my voice icy. Somewhere down the table, someone muffles an amused snort.

Rowan’s jaw clenches. “I’m not a child,” she hisses. “And I have every right to be here, learning how to protect my people from bloodsucking monsters like you.”

There are those words again.

Bloodsucker. Monster.

I hate that she sees me that way.

Although she didn’t seem to see me that way when I was with her earlier. I shift in my seat.

I clench my jaw, fighting to keep my expression neutral as Arabella speaks.

“Please understand Lord Drake’s…passion,” she says diplomatically, her gaze sweeping the room. “This is a sensitive issue.” She looks at me. “But we must remember why we’re here. Our two species have a long and complicated history, but this meeting is about finding common ground. “

I can feel Rowan’s eyes burning into me. I don’t look at her, knowing I might give myself away if I do.

Arabella continues, her voice taking on a stern edge. “Darick, I expect you to control your temper. We’re here to negotiate, not antagonize.”

I nod stiffly, hating the public reprimand but knowing I have no choice but to accept it. “Of course, Grand Elder. My apologies.”

The words taste like dirt in my mouth. I want nothing more than to grab Rowan and get her out of here, away from Lucien’s calculating gaze and the dangerous politics at play. But I can’t. I’ve trapped myself with my own outburst.

Seraphina, the High Priestess, speaks up. “Perhaps we should take a brief recess to collect ourselves. Tempers are running high, and a moment of calm might benefit us all.”

I see several nods of agreement around the table. Arabella considers for a moment before agreeing. “Very well. Let’s reconvene in fifteen minutes.”

As the others begin to stand and murmur among themselves, I catch Marcus’s eye across the room. He gives me a subtle nod, understanding passing between us. We need to talk, and quickly.

I rise, purposefully avoiding Rowan’s direction as I stride toward the door. I can feel her confusion and hurt radiating through our bond; it feels almost personal, as if it’s my own pain. I push it aside. This is for her own safety, even if she doesn’t realize it.

I pull Marcus into a secluded alcove, my eyes darting around to ensure we’re not overheard.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Marcus hisses, his face a mask of confusion and concern.

“That witch, the young one. It’s her, Marcus. She’s the one I’m bonded to.”

His eyes widen in shock. “The blood match? That’s her?”

I nod grimly. “Yes. And if Lucien gets even a whiff of this, we’re in deep shit. More importantly, she’ll be in danger.”

Marcus’s brow furrows as he processes this information. “Christ, Darick. This complicates things. If he finds out she’s your match, he’s going to want to get his hands on her.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I snap. I catch myself. “Sorry. I’m on edge.”

He waves off my apology. “No need. I get it. So what’s the plan?”

I lean against the wall, staring down at the floor in contemplation. “We need to keep attention away from her. Can you run interference if anyone starts asking questions?”

Marcus nods. “Of course. I’ll do what I can to keep eyes off her.”

“Good,” I say. “Meanwhile, I need to keep a low profile. I can’t draw attention to myself or to her.”

“Agreed,” Marcus says. “But Darick, how long can you keep this up? The bond, the secrecy…it’s not sustainable.”

I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the truth of his words. “I know. But for now, it’s all we’ve got. I’ll lose my clan if they find out I have the Bloodbane.”

---