Page 52 of Vows Forged in Blood

“Holy shit,” Nova breathes behind me and then I hear splashing as she and Wesley apparently bolt out of the water.

“High General,” Wesley says.

“Do you need us, sir?” Nova asks, voice laced with respect and reverence, slightly at odds with the fact that she’s standing there in her underwear.

I’m still frozen, staring like a buffoon. Alaric seems to pull himself out of whatever trance he’d been in—with some effort, I note—and strides forward. It takes me a bit longer to shake this intense moment off. My entire being yearns to step closer to him, to wrap my arms around him and pull him against me until there’s no way to tell where his body ends and mine begins. It’s more than just physical, it’s an ache in my soul, a strange hollowness that I somehow know can only be filled by him.What in the actual fuck?

“At ease,” he says to Nova and Wesley, but his eyes don’t leave me, and I feel both of their stances shift subtly beside me. “Your chef prepared something for you—your Keeper thought you might be hungry after your training—and I offered to bring it to you on my way to check the southwest watch tower.” He says it so casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world for the High General, a Montclare fuckingprince, to deliver food to a human.

“Oh,” I say, my voice coming out hoarse and breathy. I clear my throat. “Thank you.” I step forward to take the basket from him, still feeling a little dazed from the force of feeling I felt from him, from the force of my own feelings.

We’ve spent every night together for the last week reading in the study, and by the end of each night, I feel a little closer to him. I know it’s just the blood, the bond between us now because of it, but it doesn’t seem to matter. I feel utterly content with him in a way I can’t quite explain. It’s almost like a piece of myself has been carved away and I only feel whole when Alaric is with me, like he’s the perfect shape to fill that carved away bit. The strangest part is that it feels as if that hasalwaysbeen the case, like I’ve never been complete without him. It doesn’t feel like something that’s only just happened because of the blood he gave me after the attack. I wonder what he feels from me now that I know he’s taken enough of my blood to feel my emotions. I haven’t asked him directly how clear those emotions are, but I know he has to have some kind of idea what I’m feeling, the strange intensity of these confusing thoughts.

“I did not mean to interrupt. Enjoy your afternoon.” He holds my gaze for another second longer before he looks to Nova and Wesley in turn, nodding to them when they place their fists over their hearts. He turns and strides off, his broad shoulders stiff with tension.

I turn to face my friends, hoping my cheeks aren’t as red as they feel.

“Was it just me, or was the High General fucking you with his eyes just now?” Wesley asks, a look on his face somewhere between incredulity, amusement, intrigue, and respect.

“Fuck off,” I say, settling down on the blanket and wrapping one of the towels that Takara had shoved in Wesley’s arms before we’d made our way to the pond earlier around my shoulders.

“No. Seriously. I am an expert in the art of eye-fucking. And that, my friend, was some of the most intense—and might I addsexy—eye-fucking I’ve ever seen.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

“Dahlia Clayburn,” Nova says, settling beside me on the blanket, toweling her hair dry. “Are you sleeping with your prince?”

“Of course not!” I snap, cheeks heating even more. Nova laughs and lays back, tucking her arms behind her head.

“You know, I’ve heard rumors thatallthe princes fuck humans, they just pretend that they don’t. None of them are actually above it or still adhere to Etienne’s rules, at least not in private.”

“Well, Alaric isn’t like any of the other princes, is he?” I say again, half exasperated and half…hopeful. Which is stupid. He’s made it clear he would never—couldnever—do such things…no matter how badly he might want to.

And despite everything, I know he wants…

Chapter 26

ALARIC

Iam in a great deal of trouble.

I’ve spent every night over the past two weeks with Dahlia and it is becoming harder and harder to keep my hands off of her. I’d nearly combusted when I’d seen her coming out of the pond that day last week, the silk undergarments she wore hiding absolutelynothing.

I’ve had to find release alone in my bed with her name on my lips more times than I can count simply to stay sane. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s torture. It’s bliss.

Every minute that we’re together in that study, in that room that has become my heaven on this earth, makes me long for more, makes my feelings for her deepen and strengthen in ways I never thought possible. The mating bond draws me to her, makes me want to be with her and protect her and see her happy, but it doesn’t make mefeelfor her, it doesn’t make me…love her. She’s doing that all on her own.

And the feeling is glorious. I want to know everything about her and her life, about her family and her friends and her weapons designs. We talk well into the night most evenings andI could listen to her for the rest of eternity. She’s funny and kind and smart—and a damned con woman.

I’d spied her studying the chess set near the fireplace one evening that first week, her book long abandoned.

“I can teach you,” I’d offered, “if you like.” She turned her gaze on me, a sparkle in her eyes that I hadn’t recognized at the time for what it was—cunning. She’d smiled demurely.

“To be taught by the High General would be an honor indeed.”

I’d explained each piece, the movements they could make, the keys to the game. She’d watched intently, a most studious pupil. She’d tentatively made moves, reaching towards pieces and then changing her mind again.

“And the steed—” she’d said.

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