Page 13 of Trapped By Vengeance

My body is more vulnerable than those blooms with nothing to protect it— Not myvater’scastle walls or an innkeeper pleased with the coin I offer. No, I am surrounded by enemies. Enemies that do not want me dead, granted. But they are untrustworthy souls, to say the least.

And is that someone at my door now?

Material things mean nothing to my spirit, and my sentience flows through the wooden wall like it is made of air.

Sure enough, the man Konrad referred to as Baldy is there, easing the bolt from its place. Something tells me he isn’t here to help me escape.

I hiss even though he cannot hear it as I retract my fangs. My spirit form seeks to feed from both the memories and blood of the living until I feel an echo of physicality and can return to my body strong again.

Since my father does not like to broadcast that he is in fact an immortal, bloodsucking degenerate fallen from the righteous ways of the rest of the Holy Empire, I have been trained to do this subtly. I always drink from the sleeping and only take just enough to sustain me without harming them, so they never know what happened. And no one outside the household knows that the portraits of my ancestors are actually all the same man— well, estrie.

And that estrie expects me to be able to defend myself after all the time he’s invested in my training ant tutelage.Vaterensured I had the finest tutors that money could hire, from the histories, languages, and mathematics to the art, music, and dance. Then there were the trainers for horsemanship, fencing, and the basics of other weaponry. Not that any will ever be as deadly as the skills I was trained in after my transformation. Always the best for my father’s precious jewel.

He will not be made bereft tonight.

I sigh as I draw my fangs close to Baldy’s neck. It will take a moment for what little traces of magic exist in his blood to make my fangs physical enough to bite him.

Drinking from an alert victim and alerting superstitious sailors that there is an estrie on board is the last thing that I want. Not to mention, it will sully my suit of Konrad of Schwerin more than his kidnapping me did. But I will not let Baldy havehis way with my body, and this is the only way I can defend myself.

Baldy straightens after setting the bolt aside and reaches for the door. My fangs prick his neck in glancing.

Then the door of the cabin next to mine swings open, and Konrad stumbles out.

He looks dramatically different now, with his hair released from its leather band and framing his face that is twisted in silent wrath. Rather than the layers from before, he wears only shirtsleeves and breeches. There is something feral about him that calls to my fangs more than Baldy’s weak blood.

Baldy jumps before resuming his languid pose. “Just checking on the prisoner, Captain.”

Konrad comes to stand over him, looking twice his height instead of just head and shoulders taller. “I gave you no order to do so.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt her.” The leer Baldy can never seem to keep off his face returns. “She will still be her pretty self when we give her back to her father. No one will ever know—”

His voice is cut off when Konrad wraps his hand around the throat I was preparing to bite.

Konrad lifts Baldy from his feet so he can look him in the eyes. “No one touches Lady Valda while she’s under my protection.Do you understand?”

Baldy gasps something close to an affirmation, and Konrad tosses him to the side like I did with the useless turkey leg. Unfortunately, there is no fowl to snatch him away.

The wretch hits the ground gasping but pushes himself to his feet as quickly as he can and hobbles away.

I turn to Konrad as he touches my door. Surely, he’s not going to walk in Baldy’s footsteps now after being the perfect gentleman last night and my defender just now.

Konrad creaks the door open, and I wait to see if I must sink my teeth intohisneck.

But Konrad does not cross the threshold. He merely studies my sleeping form, looking placid and untouched.

His shoulders slump in relief as he exhales. There is something in his expression as he gazes at me. A spark of . . . affection?

I can work with that.

“Thank the Creator,” Konrad murmurs, closing the door again, silent as can be. Then he places the bolt back in place before returning to his room, leaving his door ajar.

A precaution should I receive any other late-night visitors?

Konrad reemerges holding a pillow under one arm and a blanket under the other. He closes the door behind him and then drops the pillow onto the deck.

To my complete and utter bewilderment, Konrad lays down onto the deck between the two cabin doors.

As much as my spirit can smile, that’s what it does. I’m not sure if this is a result of Konrad’s protective instincts, our kiss that he was far from passive during, or a combination, but I can definitely work with this.

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