Page 82 of Bewitched By a Vampire

“Was? She’s—”

He nodded, cutting her off, not ready to tell her about his sister yet. “I eventually settled in the Second Legion and the commander took me under his wing. Franz was stern, but fair too, and taught me well. He took the time to train me and others in his legion. He liked to call it sharpening his weapons. I began working in the field… and experiencing the darker side of our world… and it changed me, but it gave me the purpose I had badly needed.”

Her little sigh and wistful look said she knew all about needing a purpose.

“What is your coven like?” He wanted to know more about her, and it didn’t hurt to know more about her family too. He had the feeling they hadn’t seen the last of them.

“We’re mercenaries too. When I joined the field operatives… It was all I had dreamed about as a young witch. I studied hard to learn all the spells I needed to master in order to be selected, but it still wasn’t guaranteed that I would be chosen.” She tucked her knees up against her chest and picked at the dirt on his trousers with her right hand, her eyes on her fingers and a solemn look settling on her face. “I was so excited when I was chosen… even though I knew in part it was because I possessed two useful talents.”

“Two?” He arched an eyebrow at her. “You mentioned you can dream memories. Is that one?”

She nodded and hiked her shoulders in a small shrug. “I also curse people when I… well… curse. Even if I don’t mean to. Or sometimes when I do mean to.”

His eyes widened slightly as he vaguely recalled her telling the two guards to drop dead and that they had. “That’s one hell of a power. I’m not sure I could master that one. Aren’t you afraid of accidentally cursing someone?”

“All the time.” The sorrowful edge to her eyes as they shifted to meet his said it had happened in the past.

He edged his hand towards hers and she tensed as their fingers touched and then relaxed, her gaze falling to her hand and softening again.

“When I was with the Second Legion, I was part of a small advance team. We were scouting a coven of witches someone wanted the Preux Chevaliers to take down. Franz was a cautious man and knew the dangers of a direct confrontation with witches. I was second in command and suggested our small party stay at a local inn, acting as travelling traders.” He skimmed his hand over hers and held it, needing the contact as memories roared up on him and his pulse raced, the fear he always felt when he remembered that night clamouring in his veins and shortening his breath. Lilian turned her hand in his and held it, tangling their fingers together, and he looked up into her eyes, silently thanking her for lending him her strength. “We thought we were blending well. The blood was flowing—in tankards—and the locals were accepting our presence well, those who ran the inn pleased to have guests for a change rather than just locals who wanted ale and food.”

He could see every second of that night as if he was still there. He could hear the locals singing as they grew more inebriated. Could smell the fire and the food, and the perfume the females who had drifted to his group had been wearing.

“What happened?” Lilian stroked her thumb over the back of his hand, drawing him back to her.

“Franz followed a female who had been talking to him out into the night and when he didn’t return, I got a bad feeling. The other three men in our team told me he was probably taking more than blood from the female, and I tried to believe them, but in the end, I needed to see with my own eyes that he was fine.” Night clutched her hand a little tighter as his chest constricted and his throat burned. “I set aside the female who had been fawning over me. She tried to make me stay… charmed me and wanted me to come to a quiet corner with her instead—”

He grimaced as Lilian squeezed his hand hard enough that it hurt and met her gaze.

The black look in her eyes disappeared and they dropped to his hand, and her death grip on it eased as horror flitted across her face. “Sorry.”

She didn’t need to apologise. If she had been telling him a story about a man who had been trying to seduce her, he probably would have reacted the same. Or worse. Most likely worse. Demanding to know the name and location of the man, and dispatching his team to eliminate him sounded like the sort of reaction she would have gotten from him.

Night would lead the team of course.

And the kill would be his.

He cleared his throat, pushing aside the pleasing images of taking down the faceless male.

“When I ignored her and went in search of Franz, she insisted on coming with me, so we could be alone together once I realised my friend was fine. I should have known she was up to something but she was rather… distracting.” It seemed like the best way of describing the blonde female’s appearance and behaviour, without mentioning her low-cut corseted dress or the way she had been looking at him with desire darkening her hazel eyes and the scent of it rolling off her. Everything about her had made him want to forget finding his commander and instead pull her into a shadowy recess where no one would see them as he took his fill of her. “She kept palming my hand, the contact between us teasing me into wanting more. I should have known it was a trick. A spell.”

“When did you figure it out?” Lilian shuffled a little closer, twisting her knees towards him so they brushed his hip as she tucked her feet in beside her bottom.

“When I thought I heard her saying something to someone else. I snapped out of it and spotted her friend bent over Franz, her hand glowing as she pressed it to his chest. I tried to stop her, but it was too late and the blonde witch I had been with turned on me and attacked.” He lifted his free hand to his throat and rubbed it as he tasted blood. He told himself it was Lilian’s blood, not his own. He wasn’t back there, and this witch wouldn’t hurt him. She cared about him. It was right there in her eyes as she looked at him, a soft quality to them that warmed even the coldest, darkest reaches of his heart. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple rubbing his palm. “I reacted quickly, but not quite quickly enough. If I had been slower, her blow would have taken my head clean off. As I fell… I was sure it was the end and that she would finish me off. She looked as if she wanted that… but then my team came rushing out and drove them off.”

“How did you survive?” She caressed the start of the scar below his ear, making his skin tingle.

He swallowed again, trying to move the lump from his throat as he felt sure he was going to gag. It wasn’t blood. He wasn’t back there. He was here, with Lilian. Safe.

Alive.

“One of the innkeepers was a breed that could heal. They did some work on me, enough to stop me from bleeding out. I don’t really remember too much about that time.” He did, but he refused to let those memories come, kept them locked away. “I only remember a hunger for revenge. It kept me going. It kept me fighting. I wanted to find the witches and end them. I wanted to make them pay in blood for what they had done.”

And he still did.

“It took me over five months to recover, first healing the wound and then my voice box. I was bedbound for all of it… on Grave’s orders. The doctors worked tirelessly to help me… but gods… the pain.” He pushed the memories back down inside. The pain had been immeasurable, and learning to speak again had been humiliating. Some part of him had wished he had been slower, that he had died, and the rest had burned with the fire of a thousand suns, driven to live and hunt down the witches. “By the time I was strong enough to leave the infirmary, the coven had disappeared.”

“Night.” Lilian squeezed his hand, lightly this time, and she sighed softly as she shook her head. “I don’t blame you for going after them. If someone had done such a terrible thing to me…”

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