Page 117 of The Ballad of the Vampire Prince

He’s broken my confidence too many times today for me to trust him. But the promise of warm clothing is too tempting to refuse. I slip the blanket from my shoulder slowly, surrendering it to him with trembling fingers.

Heat scorches my cheeks as he takes in the entirety of me. His gaze feels like an invisible caress on my skin. I wrap an arm across my breasts to hide as much as I can.

I hear him scoff underneath his breath before he turns away, shaking his head. “Stay clear, Nel. You can’t touch me in this form.”

I glare at him harder.

As if I would even think to do that.

His eyes gleam in the light of the crackling hearth. “I never had… access to this power before. This ability is new to me.”

The uncertainty and the vulnerable change in his tone urges me to keep a safe distance from him.

“I understand,” I tell him.

Blue-white glimmer ignites from his chest, the kind you see in the innermost part of a candle flame. The light permeates through his entire body, enveloping him in a bright glare.

I remember this rebellious fire creature, one of the many victims of Lilith’s ritual. He tried so hard to get away from the witch’s evil clutches, but she still managed to get him.

My heart aches for Svenn and the Strigons, for the beasts sacrificed to make the Rhunhraefn. Lilith has thrown them all into this never-ending cycle of pain.

The fire recedes and uncovers him slowly. He strides to me and wraps the blanket over my shoulders. “There you go.”

The warmth is similar to the heating effect of the iron plate Lady Deirdre used to straighten clothes with. It makes me so comfortable and happy that I feel the strangest urge to cry.

“Thank you, Svenn,” I blurt out.

The delight in my voice seems to surprise him as much as it surprises me.

Nope.

I am not developing that weird thing where people fall for their captor. This is just gratitude for something decent he did.

I point to my nightgown next.

He moves towards to the metal pole near the hearth wall to pick up the dress.

I wait with anticipation for my nightgown, looking forward to have something decent to wear again.

This time a different sort of flame envelops his body, it’s fiery red, like the wrath of a thousand suns. I have to block my eyes from the blazing glare.

Slowly, he reverts to his mortal form. The flames fizzle out from the dress until only faint wisps of smoke remain. Ashes crumble in his hands, falling to the floor.

I look at the charred remains of my nightgown.

“Svenn…”

He burned—obliterated my dress.

“What have you done?”

“I told you, I’m unfamiliar with this beast,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s out of my control.”

“You did that on purpose,” I accuse him.

He gives it a thought. “Maybe I did.”

This man is pure evil.

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