Page 85 of Vows Forged in Blood

“Of course I would want that but…” He looks both pained and angry. “I will not risk it. I am not ready to possibly lose you, Dahlia. Don’t you understand??”

I pace back and forth, understanding completely but also furious that he won’t even consider it, that he’s made the decision without consulting me…that every day that passes is a day closer to the end of our time together. I understand his fears, and a part of me is terrified of what would happen if the turning failed, if I died in the attempt and he had to deal with that pain alone…of what would happen to the world without him in it if he truly decided to follow after me. I know many mates do, simply unable to survive without their other half, but…not Alaric. He’s strong. He could survive it. He would have to survive it, for the good of Braxhelm. This worldneedshim. The army is strong, but they’re mostly that way because of him. His strength bolsters them, their shared blood and bond, and the love and respect and trust they have in him making them more formidable thanany other in history. Without him…I shudder to think how they might fare. It’s the very reason Kilgren’s plan had been a good one.

“You’ve turned hundreds of humans, Alaric, thousands even. But you refuse to even try for me? Even if it’s what I want?”

“Because I never loved any of them!” he roars. “I didn’t give a fuck if they lived or died except as so far as whether a good soldier was lost to my forces! I. WILL. NOT. LOSE. YOU!!” He bares his fangs in an almost feral snarl, and though it’s terrifying to behold, I don’t cower.

I stand, seething, torn between love for this man and fury at his insistence and refusal to even consider my point of view. I don’t want to grow old with him. I don’t want to age before his eyes, to grow frail and feeble while he remains strong and sure, to have my entire life be a short blink of his eye. I cannot stomach it. And he won’t even think of these things, or if he does, he doesn’t care. But they matter. They count. What I think and feel counts, damn it! I didn’t get a choice in becoming his Consort, or his mate, but I get a choice in how I spend the rest of my life with him as hispartner.

I shove my feet into my boots and stalk across our chambers.

“Where are you going?” he barks.

“For a walk. Doona follow me,yer highness,” I snap, my glare daring him to try. I fly from the room and through the cabin, grabbing my thick, fur-lined coat from the ornate hook by the door before storming out into the night. I pull the hood up against the chill. The snow is already beginning to coat the ground in a thick, fluffy blanket and I’m glad that I had the wherewithal to at least put on my boots before leaving. I don’t know where I’m going exactly, I just know that I need away from Alaric. For the first time in the better half of a year, I don’t want to be near him…though of course, that’s only half true and part of me is already yearning to go back to him. I clench my jaw andstorm through the camp. I’m not in the mood to talk with Wesley or Nova, knowing I really shouldn’t be around anyone right now, so I walk towards the pond.

Lanterns had been added to the path and the field around the pond after I first started spending time here, so I can navigate the trip easily enough, even in the dark. I wear a deep trench in the snow as I pace, back and forth, back and forth, a hundred times, a thousand. I can’t believe that he won’t even consider it. I understand his reservations and I can’t say that I don’t share them to an extent or that I’m not afraid of the potential…less than favorable outcome, but a potential life together forever is worth it to me. To not have to be protected, to be strong enough to stand beside Alaric and the rest and not be a liability…

No matter how much training I get as a human, I know that I’ll never be strong or skilled enough for Alaric to feel as if he doesn’t have to protect me. And I appreciate his desire to do so, of course I do, but I want him to look at me as an equal. I want to be able to protect myself.

I stop my furious pacing and lean against the fallen tree, rubbing at my temples. A part of me feels terrible for being so angry at Alaric when his only desire is not to lose me. How can I possibly fault him for that? I take a deep breath and try to think of things from his point of view. If our roles were reversed, would I risk his life? I…don’t know. The thought of losing him is enough to make my chest clench painfully and I sigh, the worst of my fury fading.

“My Lady,” a voice says from a few feet away.

I jolt to my feet, barely stifling the scream building in my throat. I hadn’t even heard him approaching. Highspear looks apologetic, ducking his head and wringing his hands.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says, taking another step forward. “The High General sent me to fetch you.You must come at once.” A cold tendril of fear slowly skates up my spine.

“Is everything alright?”

“There’s been a threat at the gates.” Worry gnaws at my throat. A threat at the gates? Could it have come from the village? Have da and Enid made it there yet? Are they safe?? “The High General wants you back at the cabin just to be safe. I’ll escort you.”

“Oh,” I say, blinking. “What kind of threat?” I ask, wondering vaguely why Alaric would send Luca and not Elias or one of the guard. Something feels wrong, but I don’t know what, exactly. I step towards the young vampire and he clasps my arm. I’m shocked by the contact—most of Alaric’s soldiers wouldn’t touch his Consort so casually, and most vampires wouldn’t dare touch another’s mate—but I don’t have time to question it.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly before twisting quickly and pulling my back hard against his chest, one arm wrapped around my middle like a vice.

“What are you doing!?” I demand as I struggle against his hold, that trickle of fear now growing, spreading ice through my entire body like a deluge. Something is very, very wrong. He squeezes tighter, a clear threat in his embrace now, and panic rises.

“What must be done,” he says, sounding half resigned and half…gleeful? My heart gallops in my chest, true fear settling over every inch of me like a suffocating blanket.

“Let me go!” I yell, kicking out at him the way Wesley taught me. He grunts in pain as my boot collides with the inside of his ankle, but he doesn’t release me. Surely someone can hear me? How does he expect to get away with this?

A moment later, there’s a sharp prick of pain in the side of my neck and my entire body suddenly feels as heavy as lead. My arms drop lifelessly to my sides, my legs giving out completelyand only Luca’s hold on me keeping me upright. He tosses me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“I’m really am sorry,” he says again, sounding like he means it, and then the darkness drags me into the abyss.

Chapter 42

DAHLIA

“It’s time to wake, Dahlia.”

The voice must be Alaric’s—who else would be telling me to wake?—but something feels off, some instinct deep in my bones warning me that something is wrong. I claw my way up from the darkness, not sure why it feels so heavy, almost like I drank too much last night, though I don’t remember doing so…in fact, I don’t remember much of anything.

“Come on, now,” the voice beckons again. And though everything in me is telling me that this is wrong, that I should stay in the darkness as long as I can, I pry open my eyes. I blink several times to clear the spots from my vision. A face slowly comes into focus and I scream, scrambling backwards only to hit something hard behind me.

ARevenantsquats in front of me, smiling widely. His black fangs are sharp and glinting in the low light. I swallow hard as instincts flare to life, instincts born of months of training. I try to remain as calm as possible, forcing a deep, settling breath in and out of my lungs. My mind works surprisingly quickly, already confirming that the thing must not want me dead, or he would have killed me while I was unconscious. Of course, the reasonshe might want me alive send a sickening wave of nausea roiling through my stomach, but I clamp my lips tightly and push the feeling away. As long as I'm alive, I can fight. As long as I'm alive, I have a chance…no matter what he might have planned.

I dart a glance around the space, not wanting to take my eyes off of the monster for too long. I’m on the cold, dirty floor of what looks to be a cell of some sort, but much larger than what I imagined a dungeon room would be. The walls are made of dark, craggy stone, and there’s an open door made of iron bars on the other side. Chemical torches burn in a few iron sconces hammered into the stone around the room. I look down to find that I’m shackled to a bar running the length of the back wall, lengths of chain connected to thick metal cuffs that encircle each wrist uncomfortably.

---