Page 97 of A Serenade To The Elf Queen
He smiles, and the Aeonians begin squealing in pain through Eamon. We are realms apart and yet he is hurting them from here.
“You’ll wish for death after I’m done with you,” his voice drops to a dangerous rumble.
The messenger is drowning in a pool of his own blood. His eyes start to bulge, waiting to pop out. Not one person comes to his aid.
“Someone do something!” I hear Lord Ctibor urge the demons.
“Why would I stand between a vampire and his meal?” Kheirall says, lifting a shoulder.
“Wiolant!” the Ancient Ones shout my name like a damning and a curse.
Svenn’s free hand transforms into sharpened talons to deliver the final blow.
“Help me, Your Highness…” the commissioner croaks. I lift my eyes to look at the struggling Aldarelf. I know then this is no longer the Aeonians.
It’s Eamon begging for his life.
“Don’t do this,” I beg the vampire. I crawl to his feet, struggling to cover my chest with the stupid dress. “Please.”
I try to look into his sharp, eternal eyes hoping to find something, anything. Svenn keeps his gaze fixed on his helpless prey like a ruthless hunter.
“Stop this, Svenn.” I reach my hand to grip his leg. His body bristles with tension. He can easily kick me away or break my spine. I’m terrified beyond belief, but I keep holding on.
He glances down at me briefly before looking back at Eamon.
“Rhianelle Wiolant is mine,” he announces for all to hear, his eyes darkening like the bottomless pit of hell. “Do you hear me?”
The heat in his voice prickles over my skin. I feel the claiming in those words. Eamon simply nods once, the colors leaching from his face.
“Touch her and there is not a place in the world you can hide. I will hunt you to the deepest wormhole and flay you layer by layer.” The air ripples with his dark promise.
I hug his leg tighter, willing him to calm down. “Please let him go.”
Something settles on top of my head. I look up to find the vampire stroking my hair gently with his beastly hand. I should be scared having something so lethal near my head. Instead, my silly brain is admiring the restraint it takes to contain that raw power.
I hear him inhale, slow and deep.
“Better pray to your gods we never meet. I’ll hack you into fucking pieces when I find you.” He pries his hand from Eamon’s ribcage. Blood runs in rivulets from his fingers, dripping to the forest floor.
I remove my trembling hand from his leg.
Now that I have his attention, fear overwhelms me. I take in a shuddering breath when the vampire kneels on one knee next to me.
He is so beautiful. So terrifyingly, beautiful.
I don’t know how he can frighten and fascinate me at the same time. I feel the warm press of his palm against my skin. The savage intensity still lurks in his face but there’s also concern. It’s the same look he wore back in the dungeon that night. He is checking me for injuries in the same manner too, like I’m a vegetable. I’ll be a potato or tomato as long as he keeps his hand on me.
He reels me in close. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m all right,” I say, failing miserably to fake a smile. There’s a mirror of me in his eyes.
I look utterly pathetic, covered with dirt, holding on to my ripped dress. I understand why Rainer couldn’t look at this. A daughter of the honorable House Wiolant of Völundr disgraced on the filthy ground. Proud and fearless Aerin would never find herself in this situation. But I don’t regret my decision. I would choose this punishment again for Blaire.
I just don’t want Svenn to see me like this.
“I’m really fine.” I lower my head to the ground. He clutches my chin with his hand, forcing me to meet his eyes. His grip is unapologetic, firm and almost callous.
“Do not lie to me, Nel.”
