Page 15 of Embers in the Snow

Kaithar never forgets, even when he’s drunk.

I shrug. “You probably won’t even remember this when you wake up so I’ll tell you. I’m going out to check the lycan traps. They were active last night.”

“How do you know?”

“Heard them.”

“Ah.Of course you did. Sure you don’t want to leave that to the soldiers?”

“It’s Seinmas. I’m not a slave-driver. And I’m faster on my own.”

Muchfaster.

“True. I’m almost jealous, you know.”

“Don’t be. It isn’t worth it.Believeme. I wouldn’t wish this curse on any friend of mine.” I meet my old friend’s eyes, and for a moment I almost feel human again. Kaithar is one of the very few people around here who treats me normally.

Kaithar pushes off the doorframe, and for a moment, his massive body sways back and forth like a gunship in a squall.

We’re of a similar size, he and I, but Kaithar carries more muscle-bulk, thanks to his Vikurian heritage.

There was a time when he could have taken me down in a grappling match—sometimes.

His thick black brows draw together. His broad forehead creases in concern. “At least pull up your damn hood then, my lord. Don’t want you getting sunburned like last time.”

I chuckle. “You’re worse than my bloody mother.”

“Someone has to be. Who else is going to knock some sense into you, you gloomy bastard? You know what you need? A woman, that’s what. I wish you’d get over yourself and stop being such a fucking prude. Vampire or not.”

“I’ll let that pass on account of the fact that you’re drunk. Just thisonce.Good night, Kaithar.” My voice is colder than I intended as I gently close the door.

Kaithar lets out a muffled grunt of irritation as he disappears into his lair.

That bastard surely knows how to get under my skin, even when he’s so pissed he can’t walk straight.

What’s he talking about?

Awoman?

What woman wouldn’t despise a wretch that wants to devour her?

5

FINLEY

The sky has turned from deep lavender to pale pink by the time I summon the courage to kick against the door, trying to splinter the already damaged wood in the hopes that I can make an opening large enough for me to squeeze myself through.

It helps that I’ve put my boots back on, although I’ve left the ridiculous dress on the opposite bench, where Janvia had neatly folded it.

I’d rather be cold than trapped.

Thud.

I kick again, and this time, the wood cracks.

A hole appears. Through it, I see snow and blood.

Bile rises in my throat. I fight the urge to throw up and kick harder.

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