Page 23 of Vows Forged in Blood

“There is something between brothers in arms—or sisters—that can’t be explained, a bond that is unlike any other. It’s love and honor and a willingness to kill and die for the person next to you.” I mull that over, realizing I still have much to learn about the vampires and the army.

Eventually, things begin to wind down, soldiers breaking off into small groups or retiring with partners on their arms, making it very clear what they have on their minds. Others have leave for several days and talk of making their way to the village and visiting the blood house there. I rise from my seat, tottering a bit. I laugh loudly, steadying myself on Wesley’s arm while Nova grins at me.

“Easy, there,” Wesley says, amused. Our gazes lock and his lips curl into a crooked smile, making my stomach flutter. He runs a hand through his shaggy hair. “Did you, uh, want to come back to my?—"

“I’ll escort you back to our cabin,” a cool voice interrupts from behind us. I whirl to find Alaric standing a few feet away. I gasp quietly. Or Ithinkit’s quietly. I can’t be completely sure at this point. If I didn’t know any better, I would say there’s a note of possessiveness in his tone, a little extra emphasis on the wordour. But that’s obviously ridiculous, so I push the thought away.

Wesley and Nova both incline their heads and put their fists to their chests. Wesley cuts his eyes to me, a clear question, and I nod.

“Of course, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow, Dahlia.”

“See you,” I say, keeping my eyes on Alaric. I’d been completely ready to go back to Wesley’s cabin only a heartbeat ago, to see if we could find a way to rekindle things, but one sentence from Alaric and Wesley is all but forgotten. One look at him, and the spark that had been missing between me and Wesley flares so hot I think I might burn to ash. Why is this happening? I shouldn’t want him like this. Ican’twant him like this.

And yet…

He gestures towards the path that leads through the camp to the cabin.Ourcabin.

It’s full night now, but the paths throughout the camp are lit with tall torches. The vampires can all see perfectly well in the dark, of course, but the rest of us need a little help. The wide path is mostly empty, a stray soldier or servant here and there. It’s much quieter here, especially after the raucous around the fire.

“Did you enjoy your evening?” he asks, startling me. I blink in surprise, not having expected him to talk to me, but I recover quickly.

“Yes, I did. The ale wasdelicious,” I say with a grin, my thoughts delightfully fuzzy around the edges. I shouldn’t speak so freely, I definitely shouldn’tgrinat him for gods’ sake. He seems to relax a bit now that it’s just the two of us.

“I’m glad of it. Before I left you seemed…unhappy.”

“I was, but I’m doing better now.” I toy with a curl, winding and unwinding it around my finger, and he watches intently, as if my hair fascinates him. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting to see you there. I didn’t know that you mingled with the commoners.” I wave a hand airily and healmostlaughs. Maybe. I turn and walk backwards, eyeing him critically. Or as critically as I can with everything slightly pear-shaped. “Was that story true? The,” I pitch my voice low in an attempt to mimic his timber, “I do notkneel. I thrust myself upon yer sword so I can rip yer heart out with ma bare hands because I am a big, sexy vampire warlord.”

“Sexy vampire warlord, am I?” he muses, and his lips definitely curl upward this time. I’m…eighty percent sure of it.

I roll my eyes and wave his comment away, the ale making me entirely too forward and informal, but I can’t seem to care. It’s not as if he’s unaware of how attractive he is, after all. I’ve heard plenty of rumors about the women who practically throw themselves at his feet everywhere he goes, just begging to be in his bed. A flare of jealousy leaps in my chest, a desire to claw those nameless, faceless women’s eyes out of their heads.What in the seven hells is wrong with me?

I tamp the jealousy away and push on, feeling chatty and wanting to take advantage of him actually conversing with me like two normal people. I frown. Being chatty isn’t necessarily a good thing. I have a habit of getting very chatty and very…handsy when I drink too much. I quickly tuck my arms behind my back as I walk, gripping my elbows just to be sure my hands don’t get minds of their own and somehow wind up on Alaric’s chest or shoulders or…other places.

“So, is it true then?”

He exhales and runs a hand through his hair, making the strands even more unruly. I’m momentarily distracted by the movement, the way the strands fall across his forehead, the way I want to tangle my fingers through it. I try desperately to focus my thoughts, but he isn’t making it easy.

“No…it was his spine I ripped out, not his heart.” A very small smirk tilts his lips, no doubt this time, and I stop walking and stare at him in shock.

“Did you…did you just make a joke?”

He hikes a shoulder and I grin stupidly, huffing out a laugh. Alaric studies me and I quickly look away from his intense starebefore I do the very stupid things the ale thrumming through my veins is telling me to do.

“Your accent,” he says, surprising me as I turn forward again and we fall into step beside each other, though I know he’s slowing his pace so that I can keep up. I wrinkle my nose, knowing what he’s about to say.

“Aye, my da comes out a bit more when I’ve had too much to drink, I’ll admit. Or when I’m spitting mad.”

“Good to know,” he says, amused. I smile and hike a shoulder. We settle into silence as we walk. I glance sidelong at him though, studying his profile in the moonlight. His golden eyes seem to glow in the darkness, like a wolf’s. When he catches me, I yank my gaze away, but can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up. The entire situation is just so damned comical, isn’t it? A blacksmith’s daughter now a Consort to the High General of the vampire army, a Montclare prince for fuck’s sake, and here I am, stealing glances at him like a lovesick teenager. I laugh again, harder.

“Have I missed some jest?” he asks.

“It’s nothing,” I assure him trying to stop my laughter. He gives me a dubious look but lets the matter rest.

“I’m glad you’re back,” I say as we enter the cabin, standing in the large entrance room. He turns to look at me, arching one dark brow, and I want to kick myself. “I mean, when you were gone, it was…difficult. Because of the binding. I felt your absence, in here.” I place my hand over my chest. I don’t think I’m explaining it right at all, but he nods.

“I was also…affected.” His voice is gruff, as if he’s admitting some kind of weakness and is loath to be doing so. Of course he would have felt the distance far more than I did. Though it hasn’t faded nearly as much as I thought it would at this point, he’s taken far more of my blood since the binding. Speaking of my blood makes me wonder…

“If I’m drunk, and you drink my blood, will you get drunk too?” His brow furrows.

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