then yelled, “Verity, duck!”
She looked up at him and the Vampire snapped at her dagger hand, ripping away her sleeve. She dropped her weapon and cried out, but Rhys was already dispatching the female, his sword cutting cleanly through her neck. A moment later he knelt between the fallen bodies and made sure to stab both Vampires through the heart. He brought his fingers to his lips and whistled, hoping to God that Dafydd and his Druid patrol might be within earshot and come to their aid to dispose of the bodies.
An answering whistle made him breathe a prayer of relief and finally turn his attention to Verity, who sat with her back against the wall, her dagger once more in her hand.
“Verity, are you injured?” She shook her head, but he could see that she was trying to conceal her right hand from his gaze. “Verity—”
Dafydd appeared and Rhys had to turn away from her. He gave his full attention to ensuring that the headless Vampires were swiftly bundled into sacks. Dafydd and his men left as silently as they had arrived. Rhys gazed down at the remaining pools of blackened blood, tasted it on his lips, and grimaced. As soon as the sun rose, the blood would disappear. He could only hope that in the darkness no one else would see it.
He turned back to the wall and realized that Verity had gone. His heart seemed to stutter to a stop. His keen gaze caught a glimpse of fresh blood on the path and he followed the trail, his sword out, his face bloodied. He hoped he didn’t run into any of the king’s courtiers and frighten them to death. But he had to find Verity. He had to.
Verity had waited until Rhys turned his back on her and then she made for the bushes as fast as she could. She had no wish to see what Dafydd and his men intended to do with the bodies. She reached the secluded fountain court where she’d once dumped Rhys in the water and her stomach rebelled. By the time she finished retching and rinsing her mouth out with the tepid water, Rhys was upon her, his expression furious.
“What by all the saints were you doing?”
Verity ignored him and tried to get to her feet, but he knelt beside her and shook her shoulder. “You should never wander off with a fresh wound. It is like offering yourself up as a Vampire’s next meal!”
She scowled at him. “Stop shouting at me. You should be glad I didn’t stay to puke on your boots.”
“I’ll shout as much as I like if you ever do anything so reckless again.”
She closed her eyes so that she didn’t have to look at him. He let go of her arm and she heard water splashing as if he was washing himself. Pain throbbed down her right arm and she half opened her eyes. Rhys seemed occupied, so she slowly unclenched her fingers and studied the gash on her hand.
She gasped as Rhys’s water-cold fingers closed around her wrist. “Did the Vampire bite you?”
“It’s just a little cut.”
Rhys ignored her and with his dagger he slashed her sleeve away from wrist to elbow. He suddenly went still and then slowly raised his head to stare into her eyes. Something in his expression chilled her. Had he noticed the marks left by Elias’s bite?
“Verity . . .” Rhys whispered.
She tried to look unconcerned. “I tell you, the wound is nothing.”
He shook his head. “Not that.” She shivered as his fingers traced the dark outline embedded in her skin. “By all that is sacred, why did you not tell me you bear the mark of Awen?”
Chapter 8
“I t is none of your concern.” Verity tried to pull her hand away, but Rhys wouldn’t let her.
“Verity . . .” Rhys hesitated as if for once uncertain of how he should proceed. “The mark of Awen is a sign of great favor from our gods. Why have you concealed it?”
“My parents made that choice, not I.”
“But why?” Rhys shook his head. “The priests believed that Rosalind’s mark was an abnormality. They even argued whether to let her live . If they had known about you—”
“Then
She looked up at him and the Vampire snapped at her dagger hand, ripping away her sleeve. She dropped her weapon and cried out, but Rhys was already dispatching the female, his sword cutting cleanly through her neck. A moment later he knelt between the fallen bodies and made sure to stab both Vampires through the heart. He brought his fingers to his lips and whistled, hoping to God that Dafydd and his Druid patrol might be within earshot and come to their aid to dispose of the bodies.
An answering whistle made him breathe a prayer of relief and finally turn his attention to Verity, who sat with her back against the wall, her dagger once more in her hand.
“Verity, are you injured?” She shook her head, but he could see that she was trying to conceal her right hand from his gaze. “Verity—”
Dafydd appeared and Rhys had to turn away from her. He gave his full attention to ensuring that the headless Vampires were swiftly bundled into sacks. Dafydd and his men left as silently as they had arrived. Rhys gazed down at the remaining pools of blackened blood, tasted it on his lips, and grimaced. As soon as the sun rose, the blood would disappear. He could only hope that in the darkness no one else would see it.
He turned back to the wall and realized that Verity had gone. His heart seemed to stutter to a stop. His keen gaze caught a glimpse of fresh blood on the path and he followed the trail, his sword out, his face bloodied. He hoped he didn’t run into any of the king’s courtiers and frighten them to death. But he had to find Verity. He had to.
Verity had waited until Rhys turned his back on her and then she made for the bushes as fast as she could. She had no wish to see what Dafydd and his men intended to do with the bodies. She reached the secluded fountain court where she’d once dumped Rhys in the water and her stomach rebelled. By the time she finished retching and rinsing her mouth out with the tepid water, Rhys was upon her, his expression furious.
“What by all the saints were you doing?”
Verity ignored him and tried to get to her feet, but he knelt beside her and shook her shoulder. “You should never wander off with a fresh wound. It is like offering yourself up as a Vampire’s next meal!”
She scowled at him. “Stop shouting at me. You should be glad I didn’t stay to puke on your boots.”
“I’ll shout as much as I like if you ever do anything so reckless again.”
She closed her eyes so that she didn’t have to look at him. He let go of her arm and she heard water splashing as if he was washing himself. Pain throbbed down her right arm and she half opened her eyes. Rhys seemed occupied, so she slowly unclenched her fingers and studied the gash on her hand.
She gasped as Rhys’s water-cold fingers closed around her wrist. “Did the Vampire bite you?”
“It’s just a little cut.”
Rhys ignored her and with his dagger he slashed her sleeve away from wrist to elbow. He suddenly went still and then slowly raised his head to stare into her eyes. Something in his expression chilled her. Had he noticed the marks left by Elias’s bite?
“Verity . . .” Rhys whispered.
She tried to look unconcerned. “I tell you, the wound is nothing.”
He shook his head. “Not that.” She shivered as his fingers traced the dark outline embedded in her skin. “By all that is sacred, why did you not tell me you bear the mark of Awen?”
Chapter 8
“I t is none of your concern.” Verity tried to pull her hand away, but Rhys wouldn’t let her.
“Verity . . .” Rhys hesitated as if for once uncertain of how he should proceed. “The mark of Awen is a sign of great favor from our gods. Why have you concealed it?”
“My parents made that choice, not I.”
“But why?” Rhys shook his head. “The priests believed that Rosalind’s mark was an abnormality. They even argued whether to let her live . If they had known about you—”
“Then
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