Page 133 of The Ballad of the Vampire Prince

There are not enough words in this world that can translate what I feel for her. I don’t quite understand this chaotic rumbling in my chest either. But I want her to know.

Brilliant rays of light breaks through the heavy clouds like a glorious triumph against the dark night. Her lips part the moment sunlight dances on the surface of the water. Corals and sediments fracture the ocean into different shades of cerulean blue, turquoise, and green.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, the soft morning rays bathing her in an otherworldly glow.

It reminds me of you.

This is the closest thing that resembles Rhianelle’s first appearance to me in that dungeon. The view pales compared to the perfection of her.

I can’t help but stare at her, taking in every detail. A strange sensation sparks in my chest, warming me more than the sun ever could.

“Thank you for showing me this, Svenn,” she says with a soft smile. It is bright, lovely, and reaching her eyes. The muscles in my chest constrict at the sight, making breathing near goddamn impossible.

The bond is wrong.

It would be easy if this was simply lust. I would have just fucked her to oblivion for the rest of eternity. But Rhianelle means something more to me than that. Something deeper and unbreakable.

I interlace my fingers with hers, clutching them as tightly as her small hand can possibly take. She squeezes back and my heart roars.

I look faraway into the future, something that I had never allowed myself to do. I see endless possibilities, a vision of Rhianelle traveling with me to distant seas beyond the horizon, of her opening a bakery, of us discovering new things together. It all seems exciting and colorful. Perhaps there’s even happiness ahead.

For the first time, the wonders of life hold a better prospect than the peace that comes with death.

In every one of those futures, Rhianelle is smiling the way she is right now. It’s a strange feeling but I fucking want it.

Yes.

That smile is mine. That crinkle in her eyes when she laughs is mine. That frown when she is concentrating on her book is mine. The soft gasp when she is overwhelmed by pleasure is mine. I want her. All of her. In every way possible.

A tiny piece of her heart must have felt the same for me because even in my most disgusting moment where I barely recognize myself or my thoughts, she chose to stay. I can’t let that feeling she has for me fade.

“You want me,” I repeat her words from last night. The way I went about forcing it from her was as messed up as it can be, but the truth remains. I wait for her to deny it in the harsh daylight, for my heart to splinter the moment she does.

But she doesn’t.

Leaning over her from behind, I bury my nose in the nape of her neck. Her breath hitches in response. Nel glances back at me, a soft frown etched between her brows.

“I also want my freedom,” she says, her eyes igniting with a challenge. I know that determination as soon as she turnstowards the sea again. My wife will brave the deadly ocean to get what she wants. Still, her fingers remain entwined with mine.

I intend to be greedy with Rhianelle. Having control over my dark urges is how I will win her back.

“And so you shall have it.” With a heavy heart, I whisper to her skin, “Fine. I’ll take you back, Nel.”

Chapter 19 Svenn

“Istill don’t get it,” I tell Rhianelle, stroking her back idly.

It’s been more than a week since I’ve sealed the bond, and I have been enjoying the clarity that comes with it. As promised, I’ve taken her back to Windhaven. My wife is now sitting in my lap in front of the coffee table.

“It’s like this. Let me show you,” she instructs, taking the brush from my hand. I watch her silently as she concentrates on the paper. Her hair is braided, revealing the smooth skin of her neck. I push the hunger carving my insides and wrap a possessive arm around her.

Last night before she went to bed, I told her that the calligraphy of the elven letterings was too difficult to master. Rhianelle, being the helpful good girl she is, settles on my lap to practice them with me this morning.

It’s a lie, of course. Balthazar is perfectly fluent with the language in speech and in writing.

I’ll lie. I’ll cheat. I’ll kill for her.

The feeling of having her close to me is so much better than any of the images the bond fills in my head. “Show that to me again,” I request, craving her attention and affection.

---