until I return.” She didn’t respond, and he didn’t want to leave her unsteady from tracing and reeling from the events of the night, but he needed to let Kristoff know that Ivo was in the New World. They needed to hunt him down and destroy him.
As Wroth gazed down at his Bride he wondered how Ivo could not be searching for her.
He brushed her hair from her face, trying to get her eyes to meet his. “Make yourself comfortable here. Your clothes are here. This is your home now.”
When she nodded absently, her pupils were huge, her eyes stark, and he knew he couldn’t leave her like this. He would warm her with a bath then put her in bed.
He ran water, undressed her and set her in it. She sat silently as he scrubbed the dirt and grass from her alabaster skin and held a cloth to her neck, to the bites that marred her.
Suddenly, she turned to him and placed her hands on his face. “Wroth, you said you would vow never to hurt my family?”
“Yes. I make it again.”
“I believe you. You could’ve traced and attacked Regin and Lucia tonight and you didn’t. But please, if you take more memories from this night, don’t give others our weaknesses. Don’t alow others to hurt them either.”
Was his first loyalty to his king or to her? She was his Bride, and as he stared into her eyes, he realized that that meant she was his family. Wroth’s family had always come first, and nothing had changed except that he’d now added to it.
“If I learn of other factions I wil relate that information. But never about your kind.”
She puled him to her and kissed him softly with trembling lips. “Thank you,” she whispered against him, then she gave him a shaky smile that made his turned heart do things he never remembered from being a human before.
Her shoulders tensed just as he heard voices sounding from downstairs.
Trespassers in his home. His fangs sharpened. That someone would dare enter his home when he had his Bride within it…“Myst, finish up, then go to the bedroom and wait for me. If anyone comes in that door but me, run faster than you’ve ever run and escape them.”
He traced downstairs, feeling his muscles tensing, his hands itching to kil. He was strong from her immortal blood, taken directly from her flesh, as powerful as he’d ever imagined, and he would use it to protect her. His fangs were sharp as razors—
“Wroth, I pity the being who wishes to harm your Bride,” Kristoff intoned from his seat at a long table in the great room. Murdoch and a couple of elders sat with him and al their eyebrows rose at his appearance.
As he struggled for control, he imagined how they saw him. His clothing was filthy, his shirt stabbed and shot through, and God help him, Myst’s delicious blood marked his skin and clothing. He was fairly certain that she’d gotten in a few sucker punches at his face as wel.
“I would not wish to attend you in such a condition. I’l go wash and change—”
“No, we know you are eager to get back to her for the remains of the night.” Kristoff appeared proud. “Congratulations, Wroth. You’ve now been blooded and claimed your Bride.” He studied him. “Recently. Though it appears as if she didn’t acquiesce to you.”
Wroth stood, uncomfortable, reminding himself that she’d kicked him like she would spur a horse when he’d stopped.
“I’d like to meet her.”
“She is resting.”
“I suppose she would be. In fact, we’d wonder if she wasn’t.” A couple of snickers. Wroth shot them a look and they quieted. “And you drank her blood this night?”
His eyes narrowed. How had he thought this would escape Kristoff’s notice?
“Did you take her flesh as you did so?”
He could do nothing but admit to the most heinous crime among their order. Shoulders back, he said, “I did.”
“Take off your shirt.”
Murdoch caught his glance, tensing to fight, but Kristoff waved him down, saying, “Stand down, Murdoch, no
As Wroth gazed down at his Bride he wondered how Ivo could not be searching for her.
He brushed her hair from her face, trying to get her eyes to meet his. “Make yourself comfortable here. Your clothes are here. This is your home now.”
When she nodded absently, her pupils were huge, her eyes stark, and he knew he couldn’t leave her like this. He would warm her with a bath then put her in bed.
He ran water, undressed her and set her in it. She sat silently as he scrubbed the dirt and grass from her alabaster skin and held a cloth to her neck, to the bites that marred her.
Suddenly, she turned to him and placed her hands on his face. “Wroth, you said you would vow never to hurt my family?”
“Yes. I make it again.”
“I believe you. You could’ve traced and attacked Regin and Lucia tonight and you didn’t. But please, if you take more memories from this night, don’t give others our weaknesses. Don’t alow others to hurt them either.”
Was his first loyalty to his king or to her? She was his Bride, and as he stared into her eyes, he realized that that meant she was his family. Wroth’s family had always come first, and nothing had changed except that he’d now added to it.
“If I learn of other factions I wil relate that information. But never about your kind.”
She puled him to her and kissed him softly with trembling lips. “Thank you,” she whispered against him, then she gave him a shaky smile that made his turned heart do things he never remembered from being a human before.
Her shoulders tensed just as he heard voices sounding from downstairs.
Trespassers in his home. His fangs sharpened. That someone would dare enter his home when he had his Bride within it…“Myst, finish up, then go to the bedroom and wait for me. If anyone comes in that door but me, run faster than you’ve ever run and escape them.”
He traced downstairs, feeling his muscles tensing, his hands itching to kil. He was strong from her immortal blood, taken directly from her flesh, as powerful as he’d ever imagined, and he would use it to protect her. His fangs were sharp as razors—
“Wroth, I pity the being who wishes to harm your Bride,” Kristoff intoned from his seat at a long table in the great room. Murdoch and a couple of elders sat with him and al their eyebrows rose at his appearance.
As he struggled for control, he imagined how they saw him. His clothing was filthy, his shirt stabbed and shot through, and God help him, Myst’s delicious blood marked his skin and clothing. He was fairly certain that she’d gotten in a few sucker punches at his face as wel.
“I would not wish to attend you in such a condition. I’l go wash and change—”
“No, we know you are eager to get back to her for the remains of the night.” Kristoff appeared proud. “Congratulations, Wroth. You’ve now been blooded and claimed your Bride.” He studied him. “Recently. Though it appears as if she didn’t acquiesce to you.”
Wroth stood, uncomfortable, reminding himself that she’d kicked him like she would spur a horse when he’d stopped.
“I’d like to meet her.”
“She is resting.”
“I suppose she would be. In fact, we’d wonder if she wasn’t.” A couple of snickers. Wroth shot them a look and they quieted. “And you drank her blood this night?”
His eyes narrowed. How had he thought this would escape Kristoff’s notice?
“Did you take her flesh as you did so?”
He could do nothing but admit to the most heinous crime among their order. Shoulders back, he said, “I did.”
“Take off your shirt.”
Murdoch caught his glance, tensing to fight, but Kristoff waved him down, saying, “Stand down, Murdoch, no
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