Page 12 of Princess of Thorns and Ruin

Panic swells in my chest, and I tear a piece of linen and tie a tourniquet above his wrist. The river of red stops flowing, but his mangled neck still gapes open, so I press a bunched sheet to the hole, but blood gorges the satin, mocking me.

My gaze darts to the stony doorway. It’s useless to knock or shout because they won’t interfere. The door will not open until morning, and by then, Leo will be dead.

What am I missing?

Chiffon chafes my thighs as I jump off the bed and rummage through the bag Leo brought with him. The binder at the bottom catches my attention, and my eyes skitter across the pages. It’s a how-to guide for the night.

If the vampire lets you drink from him first, you’ll have better chances at survival.

Leo kept this from me on purpose. Why? I scurry over to him and bite my arm. A grimace twists my face at the horrid taste of my own blood—cold and dull and metallic.

The red liquid trickles down to Leo’s full lips, and the sight almost sends me over the edge. My beast desperately wants things to go the other way around.

The ecstasy brought on by my first-blood, my first taste, will know no equal. I need to safeguard it at all cost, and the thought of losing it forever tames my beast into submission.

With a grunt, I jam my wrist inside his mouth, and he finally swallows. I wait until he’s gulped down at least five mouthfuls before walking away.

Holding my breath to block his scent, I tear down the skirt of my gown, cast it aside, and perch on the white velvet lounge chair in the corner, as far away from Leo as possible.

His short breaths grow steadier. Massive and yet frail, he hangs between life and death for a few hours. No matter how hard I try, I cannot look away. The windowless room grows quiet as a tomb except for the timid thuds of Leo’s heart, and a languid fatigue claims me whole.

Just as I’m about to doze off, a painful clarity strikes me, and my eyes snap back open.

Leo wanted to die.

* * *

Leo stirs on the bed, and the mattress creaks under his weight, his scent luring me closer. I unfold my legs and walk to the halfway point between us to test my resolve. “Good morning.”

Leo doesn’t answer.

My new vampire eyes see everything better. The knots in the wood of the headrest form tight, concentric circles. Tiny cracks in the bedside table betray the age of the furniture. Dead skin flakes off Leo’s thumb, and a slightly darker swell of ink highlights the edges of his tattoo.

Leo’s irises are no longer green, but the color of freshly bloomed leaves mixed with gold speckles and a hint of seaweed. The difference is so immense that my heart gives a big squeeze—it doesn’t beat as it used to, but it’s not dead either.

The stone door of the chamber inches open, and my ears buzz. Servants chat in the kitchens, waves storm over the rocks, and pigeons squabble for dried raisins on the roof. Rays of sunlight filter in from the opened door and undulate across the room like golden snakes.

It’s all so loud and bright and confusing.

Above all, the feel of Leo’s skin lingers. They explained that I might remain sensitive to sound and lights for a few days, and that in time, I’d be able to pick and choose what to tune out, but right now, it hurts.

The first test of my self-control is the human doctor who comes to check on Leo. When he arrives, I rush back to the chair and cross my legs beneath me. Holding my breath, I watch as he hooks Leo up to a bag of fluids before cleaning up his wounds and bandaging them. The white gauze covers the mouth-watering gashes, making it slightly easier for me not to obsess over them.

The stranger’s scent sticks to the air after his departure, tempting me to run after him.

Pressure coils in my belly, but I will not let my beast dictate my faith. I am a Delacroix.

The second test is a young handmaid who comes to change Leo’s bandages a few hours later. She eyes me sideways, her frazzled heartbeats unnerving as hell as she completes her job quickly and skitters out.

The last test is Genevieve.

“Congratulations, ma chérie.”

“I almost killed him.”

She glances at Leo’s sleeping form. “He didn’t ask to drink from you before it started, did he?”

“No.”

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