Page 25 of Stolen By the Vampire

“You’re not! What’s wrong?”

She debated. She didn’t want to burden anyone else, but it wouldn’t be right to lie. Not when he’d seen her like this. “I was cursed. As her heart is like ice, let it be so. Let it devour,” she intoned.

Jared was extremely dramatic about his curses. And literal.

“What does that mean?”

“It means sometimes when you refuse to sleep with a man again, he thinks you’re a cold-hearted bitch and should die,” she hissed. Dirt shrank away, and she felt bad for scaring him. Dammit, she was trying to accept her fate. But to let it be defined by Jared? He was no oracle. What right did he have? “There’s nothing to be done, dear one.”

“Can’t the vampire save you? He’s so powerful.”

He could. But it would cost him his life. “Even a vampire cannot defeat a curse through brute force.”

“But—”

“No more, Dirt. I’m glad I met you. You were a good friend to me.”

“And you, me,” he squeaked.

Even the tears in her eyes were ice cold. She lifted from her knees to resume her journey. Her movements were sluggish. The blood in her veins was freezing. She was nearly out of time.

Why had it come to this? Her breath was frosty in front of her. She clutched Silas’s discarded cloak that she’d swiped from the glowing cavern before leaving. There would be no escaping the chill now.

It smelled like him. Like smoke and cinders and a male who made her feel as if she was her own person, destined for more than mediocre weaving.

A person everyone in the village had dismissed.

She wiped away the tears that threatened to fall. No. She wouldn’t break down. Not in her last moments. She had to get away from the Condemned Cliffs where Silas might find her. She’d initially planned to roam as far into the forest as she could, but with every step, her emotions turned more volatile.

Sadness, yes. Grief. Resignation of a kind. But in their embers was something more, a burning anger that grew and grew. Her heart might be ice to Jared, but who was he to define her? Because she didn’t want him—and they both knew he never really wanted her, because he didn’t even know her and scoffed at the parts he’d seen—she was cold-hearted?

But the emotion that ruled above all: love.

Against her best efforts, she had fallen in love with Silas. And it was because of that love she had to get as far away as possible. He never left the cliffs, or at least, he hadn’t in several hundred years by his own admission. Aside from when he’d gone to the nearby forest to forage for food on her behalf.

The memory of him that first day, presenting the bounty of food, tugged at her heart. A tear beaded at the corner of her eye, then fell, frozen to the ground. He’d been so proud of his haul, so desperate to please her. She could see that now. He liked taking care of her.

How would he feel if she had gone to him, and he’d realized there was nothing he could do?

Would he feel as she did now, angry and helpless?

Or would it be worse, because it was one thing to fail yourself, and another to fail someone you cared about?

Another frozen tear fell.

She pushed on.

She veered closer to the village. The surroundings had grown more familiar. This wasn’t just any path, it was the one that led to the mayor’s house. Her stomach twisted. Given more time, she’d double back around just to avoid it.

But then—

“Esmae? It can’t be.”

She spun on her heel.

There he was. The source of all her misery. The mayor’s son, a curse-caster who couldn’t take no for an answer. Jared wore fine hunting garb with polished brass buttons. An empty quiver at his back, a bow in his hand. His uncalloused hands were clenched into fists at the sight of her.

Surprise. That’s what it was: he was surprised to see her. And why shouldn’t he be? For all he’d known, he’d cursed her, and she’d been a good little witch and wandered off to the woods to die. In his mind, his curse was unbeatable. How could a weak witch like Esmae fight such a thing?

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