Page 158 of The Princess In A 'Prince' Disguise

"Everything is fine," he retorted, the words as sharp as a blade. "Now, come."

"Just a moment to—"

"No, come at once."

Dropping the watering can with a clatter, she removed her apron and hurried after him. What was going on?

They strode towards the grand entrance, and inside the vast residence. The soldier halted before an imposing set of doors.

"I will leave you here. He awaits within. Enter," he commanded, and with a brisk turn, he was gone.

Watching him retreat, Aekeira shook her head. Too serious, too rigid. Like master, like soldier.

She rapped hesitantly on the wood, but with a groan of ancient hinges, the door swung inward, revealing a sliver of shadowed space.

Venturing into the study, her steps was hesitant. She crossed the threshold, the scent of old parchment filling her nostrils.

"Your Highness?" Aekeira's voice shook despite her attempt to be calm. "You called for me?"

Her scent hit him.

Grand Lord Vladya eyes opened, like twin pools of darkness.

It has always been alluring, but now, mixed with the fragrance of roses, Aekeira smelled unimaginably appealing.

"No, I did not" he spoke through clenched teeth.

"No? But your head soldier... he said—"

Yaz? He had brought Aekeira here?

Anger surged, battling the weakness in his body. Leaning back, he shut his eyes. "Leave. I did not—"

She gasped. "You're bleeding! You're hurt!"

The next second, her scent engulfed him. Unbelievably close. The sweet notes of rose mingled with vanilla bean.

"It is nothing. A mere scratch—" The words died on his lips as the sharp rip of fabric pierced the air.

Eyes snapped open, he stared at her. Aekeira had torn a strip from the hem of her dress. Stepping closer hurriedly and determined, she held the torn cloth like a weapon.

"What madness is this?" Vladya snapped.

"We must stop the bleeding, Your Highness," she said firmly. The improvised bandage brushed against his fevered skin, sending an unwelcome jolt through his system.

The sweet, heady scent of her blood flowed over him like a blooming field of wildflowers. His nostrils flared, and a low growl rumbled in his throat.

Every fiber of his being screamed for sustenance; his weakened state, blood loss, and the poison. Her blood called to him.

"Get away from me, Aekeira," Vladya snarled, the words ragged through his lengthening fangs. "Go, before I—" He couldn't finish the threat, the hunger a burning coal in his gut.

Aekeira met his gaze with a flicker of fear. Her face paled, and she swallowed nervously. But her defiance held her ground.

"I can't. Not until this is bound." She tightened the makeshift bandage, her touch feather-light against his burning skin.

Where did she find such courage? The question plagued him as a strange sensation rippled through him. A yearning for much more. A craving for the very thing he must deny himself.

"Your brother was attacked. Poisoned arrows in the woods. I sent him to his chamber to rest."

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