Page 300 of Dragon Slayer

“No.” His voice was faint. He couldn’t believe this. He swallowed. “I wouldn’t – but, Anna, dear girl…you don’t have to do this.”

She looked at him steadily, with nothing short of ferocity. “We do, actually. If we stay here, they’ll just keep using my safety as leverage to make Fulk do whatever they want. We have to leave. And…if we’re bound to you, then no other vampire can ever force us to work for them.”

“That…makes sense.” And it did. But. “Baron Strange. What are your thoughts?”

Fulk ground his narrow jaw, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Nostrils flared. “I think I want to get the hell out of here.” Val waited, but he said nothing else.

“You see?” Vlad said. “They are willing.” He waved and the couple shuffled forward, into the cell, until they stood side-by-side in front of him.

Slowly, struck hard by how surreal this seemed, Val set the clothes aside and smoothed his suddenly-damp palms down his thighs. His parents’ wolves had considered him pack, had protected him, listened to him, and he’d loved them in return. But he’d never performed a binding; never bound a wolf to himself, personally. He’d wondered, felt a tickling urge at the back of his throat several weeks back when he finally came face-to-face with Sasha…but that would have been wrong. Sasha was meant for another.

He hadn’t expected this.

“I would be honored,” he said, quietly, voice shaking. His breath trembled in his lungs and he wet his lips.

“Do it,” Vlad said.

Annabel shifted her weight–

And her husband caught her around the waist, held her still. “I’ll go first,” he said, and then slowly sank down so that he knelt on the cold stone floor between Val’s parted legs.

He breathed quick and harsh through his mouth, gaze darting, restless. Val could hear the rabbit-fast beating of his heart. He wasterrified.

Val felt his own shaking ease. He cupped the baron’s chin in a gentle hand and tipped his face up. His pupils were pinpricks, sweat beading at his temples. The poor dear. He’d left off his usual red leather jacket, his neck long, and bare, and pale.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Val murmured. Fingers cupped carefully, but firmly under the wolf’s sharp jaw, and he touched the pad of his thumb to Fulk’s upper lip, lifted it up and sought the point of a canine. Pressed. Felt it elongate. Watched the blue eyes flare to life, a faint glow.

Val leaned in closer, and pushed every ounce of his crippling sincerity into his voice. “It really will be an honor to be a part of your pack. Will you accept me?”

Permission wasn’t necessary – a wolf could be held down and forced to choke on blood, and be bound against his will.

But something eased in Fulk at the question. He settled deeper into his knees, and swayed forward, eyelids drooping. He let out a quiet, lupine chuff. His voice was nothing human. “Yes, your grace.”

“That’s a good darling.” Val tucked his face down low, into Fulk’s neck, guided the wolf’s mouth to his own throat. They were pressed together, ear-to-ear, and their pulses pushed against one another there.

Val opened his mouth and bit with slow precision, fangs piercing skin. And Fulk did the same to him.

The first sip was an electric shove between his shoulder blades. But it quickly became a soothing warmth. Hefeltthe baron, saw his wolf in his mind – great, shaggy black, blues eyes, a wary alpha. He held out a hand to it, smiled.Hello, beautiful boy. I won’t hurt you.

The wolf approached in fits and starts, raising and then lowering his head. He growled, once. But then he was close enough to press his cold wet nose to Val’s fingers and snuffle at them, breathe in his scent…and his intent.

Finally, the beast ducked his head and pressed the side of his face into Val’s palm. Acceptance.

Val blinked back to the present, and sat back, swallowing a last rich mouthful of blood. The wound on his own neck tingled pleasantly, and when Fulk drew back, he looked drunk, lips red and wet, eyes closed.

He sighed and went boneless, and laid his head down on Val’s thigh.

Val cupped a protective hand over his silky dark hair. And that was that.

~*~

Mia hated all this sleepiness, but she had to admit that this was a very nice way to wake up. She rose up out of a shapeless, unsettling dream to the sensation of someone petting a gentle hand over the crown of her head, again and again. She lay on her side, and the lamp was on, its light spilling over Val, who sat perched on the side of her bed, smiling down at her with so much warmth it made her throat ache.

She licked dry lips, and the first words out of her mouth were, “You look good.”

And he did. His hair was loose, falling over his shoulder in a golden curtain, his face flushed with health, eyes bright, the awful bags beneath them gone. He wore a loose black robe, its sleeves pushed up past his elbows, the front open, his chest smooth and bare beneath.

His cheeks pinked in response to her words. Oh, he wasblushing. It was precious. “So do you,” he said, and smoothed her hair back from her face again.

---