Page 10 of Vows Forged in Blood

“Doyousink your teeth directly into the cow or chicken?” I ask, sarcasm thick in my voice.

“Only when I’mreallyhungry,” she replies dryly, almost absently, and I smother a laugh. She rubs her temples, still pale, a thin sheen of sweat covering her forehead. I frown, wondering if there’s something more wrong than simple blood loss. Shouldn’t the tonic have started working by now? What is this incessant worry clawing at my throat at the idea of something being wrong with her, or her being hurt?Fucking hells.

“Why not? I know other vampires do.”

“And how, exactly, do you know that?”

She huffs out a laugh. “I didn’t grow up in the noble district, as I’m sure you know. I’m well aware of what goes on in a blood house.”

“Are you now?” I ask in a silky voice, despite myself, brow arched in something dangerously close to teasing. Some color comes back to her cheeks as she blushes.

“I mean, I’m notwellaware. I’ve never…I mean, I haven’tpersonally…but I’ve, uh, heard stories…maybe spied a bit from a tree outside…” I tilt my head, surprised by her confession. Surprised and amused and maybe even a little aroused, though I can’t explain why. Her eyes fly wide and she puts her head in her hands, whispering, “I cannot believe I just said that out loud.”

I turn away to hide the smile pulling on my lips. I walk to the hearth and stare out of the window just beside it into the darkness for a long moment. I turn back to her, leaning ashoulder against the mantle. I’m honestly not used to conversing with humans casually, save the few that work in the camp, but even then we aren’t, what does Elias call it? Shooting the shit. But one of the many reasons I’d chosen Dahlia (at least the reasons that I’ll admit to at this point) was because I thought I might be able to hold a conversation with her without wanting to claw my own eyes out. So far, we’ve managed fairly well. The few moments we spent in her father’s shop after the ceremony had been…pleasant. I originally thought that I’d keep myself closed off from her completely, but with her here now, I find that I…want to talk to her?Fuck.Might as well give it a shot, I suppose.

“Princes do not take from the flesh partly because my father decreed that we were above such baser desires long ago, and we adhere to his instructions still. Though they are not absolute law...” Why the fuck did I say that? I will not be bending this rule, this non-absolute law.I. Will. Not.I clear my throat lightly. “But we also refrain because the princes are different than other vampires, as I’m sure you are aware.” She nods gravely, a small shudder running through her body. “All vampires are strong and can kill a human while feeding, but the princes even more so. Our strength is beyond compare. We could easily snap your bones to twigs, grind them to dust, drain you as dry as a corn husk.” And it isn’t just because of the feeding. Lust and bloodlust often get roused together for vampires, the intensity and aggression and wanting all mixing together, and the outcome can be disastrous if the vampire loses control. But if aprincewere to lose control? There could be literally nothing left of the human but a memory.

“Easily?” she asks, voice shaking ever so slightly, though I can tell she’s trying her best to hide it.

“Easier than breathing,” I respond without thinking, only realizing how harsh it might sound when she swallows hard. I’m not used to mincing words or trying to be mindful of someone’sfeelings. I’m not harsh with my soldiers—unless it’s warranted, of course—but I am direct. I feel the tiniest bit of guilt when I see fear flare in her eyes, guilt and a feeling of utter wrongness in my bones.

She should never fear you, a voice whispers in the back of my mind.You are meant to protect her, to ease her fears, to put her above all else and make her happy. I scowl at the voice and she tears her gaze away, looking down at her wrist. The cloth is stained red with her blood. She tentatively pulls it away and inhales sharply.

“Seven hells,” she whispers. “It’s…it’s almost healed already!” She looks at me again, confusion and question in her eyes. I notice the striations of gold within the green that most humans wouldn’t be able to see at all. They are utterly captivating.

“It’s because of the binding. Our blood has healing properties. The effects will wear off for you after a few weeks since such little blood was exchanged, but you will heal quickly, be a bit stronger and faster than usual, possibly even sense my emotions, if they’re strong enough, I suppose, though I doubt you took enough for that.”

“What?” she blurts, incredulous. I shrug.

“It is one of the effects of sharing blood.” With such a little exchange on her part, it is unlikely she’ll be able to sense anything from me, but I, on the other hand, won’t be so lucky. I asked Bastian about it, and he confirmed that yes, they all can feel their Consort’s emotions at times, but the physical distance helps and they all learned to ignore them long ago. It would just take time for me to as well. Yet another thing I’m going to have to deal with.

The clever girl comes to the same conclusion on her own.

“So…so you’ll be able to feel what I’m feeling all the time then, since you’ll be drinking my blood often?”

I hike a shoulder. She mutters a softwhat the fuck?that I’m sure she doesn’t realize I can hear and runs a finger over the small pink line where I’d sliced her skin only minutes ago. Her color has thankfully returned, a warm glow beneath her sun-bronzed skin. My fangs lengthen and throb once more and I realize I haven’t actually fed yet. I steel myself and then quickly cross back to the table, grabbing the tankard and draining the contents. When her blood hits my tongue, my eyes slide closed and though I try to lock my muscles in place, the taste hits me like a physical blow and I take one staggering step back. A low growl rumbles in my chest and a glorious fire tears through every inch of me, flooding my veins. I’m more prepared this time, butdear godsit’s still an intense rush that I don’t think I’ll ever fully grow accustomed to.

When I open my eyes again, everything in the room looks suddenly brighter. The smells are stronger, the sounds sharper, the colors more vibrant. Everything is just…moresomehow.Fuck me.Is it always like this with fresh blood from the vein? Or is it only because of…?

I focus my gaze back on Dahlia to find her staring.

“Is it different?” she asks, “than the replicated blood?”

“You have no idea,” I mutter quietly, not really meaning to let the words slip free, but not particularly caring at the moment either. I feel almost drunk, as if I’ve been drinking blood-laced ale or whisky all night. My blood feels practically molten, pumping faster through every inch of my body, my muscles tensing and strength coursing through me like a storm. I inhale deeply and Dahlia’s scent hits me, stronger than before. The sweetness of her blood mixed with a wild, floral scent—how apt—that inexplicably makes me aroused as hell. I’ve always managed to keep lust and bloodlust separate in my mind, never truly understanding how the two get so mixed up together for so many vampires, but now…

My fangs ache, my nails sharpen and curl into claws, and my cock is suddenly as hard as the steel of Night’s Fury. I move across the room quicker than she could possibly track, putting as much space between us as possible. I’m breathing hard, instincts and desires screaming in my head. Over the tumult, I can hear her thundering heart, can smell the fear tinging the air.No. No, I’m scaring her. I could hurt her. I couldkillher.The thought sends a tendril of fear and disgust through my body, strong enough to clear my thoughts and allow me to regain control. By sheer force of will, I lock my muscles into place and clear my throat, willing my mind to blank and forcing my body under my command. Regardless of my determination not to formally accept her as my mate, my priority will still always be to keep her safe.

Especially from myself.

“That will be all, Keeva,” I bite out in a low, rough voice.

“Keeva?” she whispers.

I turn back to her. Her eyes are wide, her pulse racing at her throat. With more composure than I would have thought myself capable of in this moment, I wave her question away airily.

“It is simply your name in my language,” I lie.

She nods, rising and practically fleeing from the room. I collapse heavily back against the wall, breathing as if I’ve just come from the battlefield. I rub the heel of my hand against my chest, just over my heart.

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