Page 26 of Stolen By the Vampire

But she had. She’d dared to hunt the beast that haunted the Condemned Cliffs. She’d stared straight into the red eyes of a predator without flinching. Yet he’d been content to think she’d left with her tail tucked between her legs? Because she’d accepted any scrap of affection for so long, had rolled over every time someone stronger bid her to be one way. Accept your place as a weaver. Accept your place as Jared’s pretty audience.

He assumed she would do him the courtesy of quietly dying away from home, freeing him of any guilt.

“Jared.” It came out as a hiss. She stumbled forward, her steps uneven with the blood in her veins freezing.

His surprise was covered by a smirk so wide his cheeks nearly disappeared entirely.

“Aww, Esmae. I’m touched. You wanted to spend your last moments with me? Finally realized what a big mistake you made?”

She balled her own fists. No. The only thing worse than dying alone would be doing so with Jared leering at her.

He strode towards her. “Or did you come to beg me to lift the curse and take you back?” He chuckled. “You’re too late.”

Chapter Fourteen

Silas woke from the most peaceful sleep he’d had in centuries with a start. He’d gone years without sleeping more than scant hours, yet now he sensed it was late in the day and he could still rest for longer.

But something had awoken him. A creature, nibbling on his tunic sleeve.

Squeaking.

He growled on half asleep instinct, but the little rodent didn’t back down. He wouldn’t really hurt it, even if he was a little groggy. Esmae was fond of the little thing, after all.

Then—all at once he realized where he was.

And the fact there was no lovely female beside him.

She had left him.

Left. Him.

Not even a day after he’d lifted the compulsion. Had she truly left the moment he’d shut his eyes? More satisfied than any other time in his life, his female in his arms, sated, exactly how she belonged.

Apparently, Esmae had disagreed.

He roared, a stabbing pain hitting him in the chest.

Is this heartbreak?

He’d read poems in hundreds of languages on the subject. Always it had been abstract. None had let him imagine the sensation as it was—ugly. Dark. Like he was halfway toward vomiting.

Grief speared him. He’d lost her. Flames, he’d never truly had her. Despite all his efforts, he had not been enough. Food, clothes, treasures—there were none finer. If she had chosen to leave, it could only be because she found him lacking. If—the moss beside him, still indented with her lovely form, left little doubt.

The mole pawed him again. More insistently, as if annoyed Silas was moping. Now it tried to tug at Silas’s sleeve with his little teeth. Damn it all. He’d managed to run off his mate, and now even the cave vermin weren’t scared of him. Maybe he should burn his hoard to ashes and be done with it.

The gentle brush of her juniper and mayberry scent was embedded in the rodent’s fur. He nearly reached out to stroke it, just to feel close to her. The little thing she’d kept as a pet. Two of a kind then, abandoned by Esmae.

But maybe it was more than that. She was a witch with magic, but Silas didn’t know the nature. He hadn’t pressed for details when she hadn’t offered any. He could have forced her to tell him anything, but that’s the last thing Silas wanted. He’d wanted to earn her confidence. Flames damn him, he’d thought he’d have more time!

But what if she was using the animal as a message? What if she had sent it to get help?

Maybe that was just what he wanted to believe, because it was preferable to confronting the fact he’d been abandoned. But he couldn’t risk the alternative.

Besides, he’d told her she was free to leave. He’d meant it.

It didn’t mean she could do so without him. If Esmae told him to go to the other end of the world and leave her be, so be it. But let that blow come from her lips, not the cold floor beside him.

He stood. The mole chirped approvingly and urged him forward. The vampire followed the instructions.

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