Page 299 of Dragon Slayer

56

DARLING

They’d taken his cat away. Val thought of Poppy often, wondering if someone had killed her, or if she, hopefully, wandered the manor’s hallways, eating bits of table scraps from friendly hands. She was only a kitten. Could her association with him have earned her a death sentence? Stranger things had happened.

But he thought of Mia, too. Constantly. Thought of the firsthand sight of sunlight gliding down the slope of her nose. Thought of the heat of her pressed all down his front. Thought of her mouth, warm and sweet under his. He hadn’t put a hand around himself for pleasure’s sake in a very long time, but he was tempted now, just thinking of what they’d done, just the weight of her on his lap, and the soft sounds of kissing her.

He’d been aroused in his life, more times than he could count, but the rush of blood and heat had always been accompanied by shame. Fear. Revulsion. Pain – always pain. He’d hated himself for finding pleasure in torture, but it had been his body’s way of coping. There had been moments when it had been good – welcome, even. But nothing had ever felt like the gentle, mutual wanting that spilled out of Mia in soft looks and quiet, delighted breaths.

His own want, by contrast, was nothing but violent.

He tipped his head back against the wall and stared at the damp stone of the ceiling. He’d never felt like this before; never wanted to consume someone. And it wasn’t about the blood; he wanted inside her, a want so bad that it ached.

Vlad had said he would return, and the squeal of door hinges announced that he’d kept his word. He wasn’t alone, though; Val smelled wolf.

Vlad appeared in front of the cell alone, though, keys jangling as he unlocked the door.

Val chuckled. “Did they give you those? Or did you take them?”

“What do you think?” He carried the tote bag from this morning, and tossed it to Val.

He had an easier time catching it this time. Stronger. Every meal, every drop of blood, every minute he was stronger than he’d been before. He felt almost like his old self – the version of himself that had killed Mehmet. That had fought sorties outside the walls of Constantinople.

God, Constantine…

No. Now wasn’t the time.

“What’s this?” he asked, peering into the bag.

“Clothes.”

Val reached in and drew out a pair of very soft, thin black sleep pants and a robe of similar material. He shot his brother a raised-brow look.

“Those are for before. The others are for after.”

Under the – well, they were pajamas, is what they were – he found a pair of jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket, and black sneakers. “Brother.” He felt a slow grin overtake his face. “Do you want me to look cool?”

“I want you to take this seriously.”

Val sighed. “I take everything seriously, I just don’t look as miserable as you while doing it.”

Vlad stared at him.

Val lifted his hands, palms-up. “I swear!”

Vlad studied him a long, tense moment. Then seemed to come to some sort of decision and nodded. “Before you go to your mortal, there’s something else we have to do.”

The baron and baroness edged into view, walking with small steps, pressed close together. Fulk, especially, looked pale and severe.

Val’s pulse hiccupped. “What?”

“You’ve gone walking,” Vlad said, “and you’ve seen much of the modern world, but you haven’t lived in it. Mia will be newly turned, and likely overwhelmed. You’ll need help – both to escape, and to continue to evade Talbot’s minions. You need wolves, Val. Strange and his wife have agreed to become bound to you.”

Val sat blinking, dumbfounded, hands clenched in the soft material of the robe in his lap. “But…” He turned to Annabel. “He doesn’t ever want to be bound again. You told me that.”

Fulk fidgeted, gaze caught between dark and frightened.

Annabel hugged his arm. “I don’t think you’d try to act like our master, would you, Val?”

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