Page 21 of Vows Forged in Blood

“Oh come on! No one will know. We’ll sneak in wearing disguises. You can have a mustache, or perhaps an eye patch. It will be very cunning and dramatic. Andfun. Did I mention fun?” He purses his lips, thoughtfully. “Do I need to explain what fun is to you?”

I punch him in the arm, but Elias merely chuckles. He’s constantly trying to get me to go to the blood house in the village a few hours to the west. He knows that no one would think much of it. I’m the High General stuck in a war camp in the Northlands—no one would blame me for lowering myself to standards unbefitting a Montclare prince. But I’ve never agreed. I’ve had women, of course, but never in the blood house and never humans. Elias tends to forget the reason princes don’t take humans, and though I remind him constantly how disastrous it would be if I lost control, he always waves it away as if that detail doesn’t much matter.

Elias isn’t one to give up though. He gives me a knowing look, his stormy-blue eyes sparkling.

“You can’t tell me being around that Consort of yours hasn’t…stoked the fire, so to speak.” He wings his light brows upward suggestively and I’m torn between being exasperated and amused. I run a hand through my hair, letting my mind drift to thoughts of Dahlia, to the sharp stab of desire I’d felt when I’d seen her in the field…

“No blood houses,” I say, firmly shutting the thoughts away.

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘stick in the mud’?”

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘pain in my ass’?” Elias laughs easily, holding a hand over his heart.

“I live to be the pain in your ass, your highness.”

I narrow my eyes at him. I hate being calledhighness, and Elias damn well knows it. He does it just to goad me.

“Sheisexceedingly attractive, you have to admit that,” Elias says more seriously, running his finger along the rim of his glass.

“I’m not blind,” I grate, sounding peevish.

“Well, if you aren’t going to fuck her, then amIallowed?—”

A growl rumbles in my chest and I snap my fangs in Elias’ direction before I even realize what I’m doing. I blink in surprise, confused at my reaction. Myoverreaction.What in the fuckis happening to me?Elias merely smirks, one brow winging upward in response.

“Howinteresting…” he croons as he takes another sip from his glass. He can’t suspect the truth…can he?

“Fuck off,” I mutter half-heartedly, embarrassed and confused by what had just happened. But the thought of Elias fucking Dahlia had sent utter rage boiling through my veins, instincts rearing up to tear him limb from limb for taking what was mine.

After a few moments, Elias adds nonchalantly, “This friend in Third Quadrant may be fucking her, though. Just a thought.”

Chapter 12

DAHLIA

Isit around a roaring fire with Wesley and a raucous group of soldiers. It had started as a small group from Third Quadrant but had quickly grown into a full-blown celebration, soldiers from all over the camp joining in. Some of the group had been out with Alaric and are regaling us with tales of battle and blood. It all sounds terrifying to me, but the excitement and energy running around the fire is palpable, and maybe even a little contagious. They clearly live for this and I have a strange longing in my chest to feel something like this, to feel so a part of something like they do.

“You’re ready to run screaming for the hills, aren’t you?” Nova, a female vampire and one of Wesley’s best friends, leans in to ask. Her silvery-white hair is twisted into intricate braids along the crown of her head, the rest of the locks flowing down her back like a river, and her eyes are a beautiful sky blue. She has golden rings lining the shell of her left ear and another in her nose, and tattoos covering both arms. She smiles widely at me, flashing her fangs. She looks entirely terrifying and unfairly beautiful all at once. She had gushed for almost an hour about one of my father’s daggers that she’d won off of one of thelieutenants in a knife-throwing contest, and I’d immediately liked her. The three of us have spent almost every day together since I first saw Wesley in the training ring.

“Oh, I wouldn’t underestimate our Dahlia,” Wesley says, bumping my shoulder with his, lips curled up in a sexy half-grin. I nearly sigh at the sight. Nothing physical has happened between us yet, just a rekindling of an old friendship and the beginning of a foundation of a new one, but there’s definite possibility there, I think. He’s certainly attractive enough, anyone can see that, and though I don’t feel that spark between us that we’d had when we were younger, I think maybe we just need to stop skirting around it and dive in. Maybe the spark will come back if we just give ourselves the chance. I’d be lying if I said I haven’tthoughtabout touching him a hundred different times, relearning the shape of his body and the feel of his lips, but each time it’s seemed that something was building and we werefinallygoing to give in, another face flashed across my mind. One with dark hair and golden eyes that seemed to look right to the heart of me. Alaric and the cursed bond between us has effectively ruined the moment each and every time. I’ve told myself that next time, no matter what, I’m going to fall into the moment with Wesley. I think I owe myself the chance of happiness—or at the very least, some fun between the sheets of Wesley’s bed.

I glance at Wesley again now, at his easy smile and sparkling eyes, the way his arm muscles move and flex in his sleeveless tunic. He’s so much bigger than he used to be, muscles in spades where he’d hardly had any before.Perhaps tonight is the night. Perhaps tonight we see if the flame can be coaxed back to life between us…

But even without anything sexual happening, I’ve been so happy to have him here with me. To have a friend who truly knows me—not as the High General’s Consort, but as DahliaClayburn, just a blacksmith’s daughter with soot on her nose and a penchant for breaking rules. The last two weeks with Wesley and Nova and the other soldiers have made me feel like maybe I can be happy here after all. It’s not the life I envisioned or would have ever wanted, but it can be a good life nonetheless, I think.

I take another drink of my ale. It’s crisp and sweet, and I’m already feeling delightfully fuzzy because of it.

“There was a time, I think we were, what, twelve maybe?” Wesley begins.

“Oh no,” I groan, hiding my face in my hands, knowing what story he’s about to tell. My guard sits around us—except for Malcom, who had slipped off into the darkness with Takara hours ago—and they all lean in closer.

“Well now we have to hear it,” Viktor says, Isaiah nodding emphatically beside him.

Wesley laughs and continues on, clearly enjoying the spotlight

“We had to be about twelve and there was this utter little prick, Lowell Harkner. He was bigger than most of us—I hadn’t hit my growth spurt yet and turned into the fine slab of muscle you see before you,” he winks, making Nova and I both snort, “—and he liked to bully the rest of us. Until one day, little Dahlia Clayburn said no more. So, one afternoon when we were all by the pond, she put alive snakedown his trousers. He screeched like babe and pissed himself!”

“You didn’t!” Nova exclaims, a glint of respect in her eyes. My guard roars with laughter and I can’t stop the smile that pulls my lips. I hike a shoulder and hide behind my tankard, taking another long sip.

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