Page 22 of Dark Fate

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Iawake to a dull ache pulsating behind my eyes, courtesy of too much-honeyed fae wine last night. With a groan, I force myself upright, rubbing my temples ruefully. Note for later—their drink packs more punch than anticipated.

I drag myself up and spot an outfit arranged on my trunk—an array of leather that looks like it's meant for someone attending a dominatrix convention, not a girl trying to save the realms.

The ensemble includes tight leather pants that look painted on and a leather top that's more straps than fabric, shamelessly slicing across my midriff. Thigh-high boots round it off, fierce and imposing.

Clearly, the person who picked this out believes in arming through intimidation... or, at the very least, distraction.

With a heavy sigh, I take care of my needs and reluctantly step into the leathers, feeling constricted when they hug my skin a little too familiarly. The top is a battle, nipping in places I wish it wouldn't, barely offering the 'support' it promises while leaving no room for the imagination.

I give myself a critical once-over in the mirror, twisting with a grimace—definitely a far cry from my usual lab coat attire.

I emerge into the main tent space from behind the curtained sleeping area. Erik is hunched miserably in the corner, shielded from stray beams of sunlight. Erik last fed two days ago.However unsettling it feels, we need each other now. I won't see him come to harm when I can prevent it.

Somehow, I must get through to him. Cursing his stubbornness, I hurry over and offer my wrist urgently. "Here. Drink before you get any weaker."

Erik turns his face away, lips pressed in a thin line. "I won't take blood directly from another's mate. It's forbidden."

"Don't be a stubborn ass; you need to feed," I say in exasperation.

Erik continues to resist, even though it's been days since he last drank. Frustration mounting, I put my hands on my hips. "What, do you want me to slice my wrist open and pour the blood into a goblet for you instead?" Erik glowers, but I stand firm, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "You know it's the only way. I won't just stand by and watch you weaken. So stop being prideful and do what you need to."

One silver brow arches sardonically at my sarcastic offer. Erik may be famished, but more is needed to compromise his principles.

In other circumstances, I admire his restraint. Right now, I want to shake him. "Erik, you're no good to either of us if you waste away," I reasoned urgently. "Just one dose to get your strength back. We'll figure out another way moving forward." Seeing Erik's lingering hesitation, I extend my wrist toward him appealingly. "Come on, you know you want to," I say in a light, teasing tone, trying to coax him.

Erik's eyes fix on my wrist hungrily for a moment, and I see a flash of his fanged teeth. But then he steels himself once more, looking away. "Do not make light of this," he says harshly. "You tempt the beast within."

I sigh, exasperated, my hand falling limply to my side. "Look, I'm not playing seductress here. But you have to eat, Erik. I recognize you’ve got a handle on things." Holding his uneasy gaze, I add with as much conviction as I can muster, "I trust you." I need him to understand just how much. "We've linked our fates—we're comrades in arms. So please, no more of this self-imposed fasting because of me, especially if it's going to make us vulnerable."

"Your offer honors me, Little One. But I cannot drain life from my brother's mate. Forgive my stubbornness in this." A faint smile touches his lips. "Anyway, I've endured far worse trials than a small thirst."

No matter what I say, Erik’s resolve is like granite; my pleas skitter off him like pebbles against a fortress wall. After what feels like an eternity of talking in circles, I throw in the towel. My frustration is tinged with a kind of grudging respect. So here we are—steadfast in his vows, refusing sustenance, and me wrestling with magic that zigs when I zag- a testament to sheer pigheadedness. Stubborn to the core, the pair of us.

I'm deep in thought, considering slicing my wrist, when Faderyn sweeps in, a hefty bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes are usually so bright, but they darken with worry as he takes in Erik's drawn face and the tension in his frame. He pivots toward me, and his voice softens when he speaks like he's offering a lifeline. "May I offer a suggestion?" At my relieved nod, he reaches into his bag and produces what looks like a syringe to draw blood. "If you would permit me to draw some of your blood into this vessel, Erik could feed safely without violating any oaths."

Relieved of precisely the exact thing I would search for, I nodded in agreement.

Erik considers my compromise with grudging acceptance. "You allowed this once before, you stubborn ass. Don't hesitate now."

Erik scoffs. "That was only because your mate was present and permitted me to drink of you."

I think about that for a minute, and I'm surprised. "Wait, so you have to have Rhyland's permission to drink my blood?"

Erik nods. "Among vampires, a mate's consent must be given before taking blood from their chosen."

"Huh. You guys have some weird customs," I say dryly. "It's my blood. I should have the final say on who drinks it."

Erik shakes his head. "You know little of our ways yet, Little One, but you will learn in time."

I sigh, realizing arguing vampire etiquette is pointless right now. "Fine, just stop being so stubborn. Rhyland trusted you to keep me safe. So take just enough blood to stay strong and nothing more."

I eye the equipment Faderyn has laid out with undisguised skepticism. It consists of a needle and plastic tubing that looks straight out of a horror movie, along with glass vials for collecting the blood.It is hardly the sterile setup I would expect. "You've got to be kidding me," I mutter.

Faderyn notices my doubtfulness because he smiles reassuringly. "I give you my word; the process does not harm. But the choice is yours."

I exhale loudly. "Yeah, I'm not brimming with confidence over here. This looks like something from a mad scientist's lab." I gingerly pick up the needle, examining its sharp point and the rust spots forming on the metal.Just the sight makes me queasy. "Any chance we could skip Medieval Times and use an actual syringe?" I ask wryly. When Faderyn seems confused, I shake my head. "Of course not. Let's get this over with before I overthink it."

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