I scoot over to make room and he slides into bed next to me. Damien spends that night and every night of my recovery telling me stories about his world and drawing me maps of Tenebris. He describes in detail the kingdom of the dark elves in Willowgulch to the north, Stygarde to the south. The forest between, which he explains is a major source of contention, and the river of magma that runs from the mountains along the western border of the witch kingdom of Dimhollow. He tells me about the independent coastal territory of Aendor and the way merchant boats carry goods from the other side of their world to Stygarde’s shores and Dimhollow’s, and how pirates steal goods for the benefit of the dark elves of Willowgulch.
I try my best to commit everything to memory even when it all starts to run together.
After a week, Marabella clears me to go back to my room and back to my scheduled donations.
Much to Damien’s growling disappointment.
37
Unexpected Guests
ELOISE
With only a week until the full moon, the key turns in my lock and Everald is there. Once again, he’s the picture of sophistication, his long, lean frame dressed in a waistcoat of amethyst velvet. A diamond earring winks from his lobe under perfectly coiffed hair. But it’s the shopping bags weighing down his leather-gloved hands that catch my attention.
“You’re already paying for my blood, Everald. You know you don’t have to bring me gifts.”
“You’ll thank me for these,” he says through a fang-filled smile.
I adjust the neck of my robe to cover more of my chest, then flip a hand over in his direction. “It’s just, you know now that I’m mated, right? Accepting all this under the circumstances isn’t appropriate.”
He pulls a set of boots from one of the bags. They’re a higher-end version of what I left beside the lake during the first trial. “I couldn’t help but notice you came back through the archway barefoot.”
I can’t restrain my excitement as I take the boots and quickly try them on. “They’re a perfect fit!”
“Marabella helped me with your sizes.” He opens the second bag and hands me new tactical pants and a few different T-shirts and jackets. “I heard Everline had to cut yours off you when she did surgery. I told you I can get anything.”
I hug the clothes to my chest. “I’m not sure what I would have done—” Before I can consider the consequences, I deliver a peck to his cheek. It’s meant as a friendly gesture of thanks, but his eyes lock on me and his nostrils flare. Everald isn’t human, and I’ve made a grave mistake treating him like one.
I back up a few steps, lifting my chin and offering an even, restrained smile. “Excuse me. That was, uh, I don’t know what came over me. Um, the clothing is perfect. I will wear them in the next trial.”
He holds up a hand. “Relax, Eloise. I wouldn’t dream of trying anything with someone else’s mate. I’m here for blood, that’s all.”
I blow out a held breath. “Thank you for understanding and for this very thoughtful gift.”
He plants his hands on his hips. “I’m only going to say this once. You can thank me by winning this challenge. My money is on you, kid.”
He’s outfitting me because he wants me to win. This isn’t because of my blood. He wants Valeska dead. “You want me to win.”
“I do.”
I’m about to ask why when his eyes narrow. “This isn’t a conversation we should have, Eloise. Suffice it to say that I am passionate about a free market, and nothing that exists under Valeska’s rule is free. Now promise me you’ll win, and let’s move on.” He tugs the velvet cuff of his jacket.
“I plan on it.” The tension in my shoulders eases a notch. “So if you don’t mind…” I offer my wrist.
He tips his head. “Of course.”
Everald does not fall to his knees as Marcel did. He raises my wrist to his mouth and strikes. He drinks his fill slowly, just to the point where I feel woozy. When he draws back and seals the wound, he smiles a blood-tinged smile, his gaze focused over my shoulder toward the window.
I turn around to find Damien standing there, glaring at Everald like he’s picturing his head on a spike. The vampire pulls my key from his pocket and leaves without another word.
“Don’t let him get to you?—”
My back thuds against the wall, my robe spread wide, Damien’s hips pressed between my thighs.
“Damien—” I want to reassure him that the donation means nothing to me, that Everald is just the type of man who enjoys being seen as one of the haves. Someone with access to something that others can’t have. I want to tell Damien that I’m his and only his. But he cuts me off with a deep kiss.
In a feat of strength that would be impossible for a human, he holds me up with one arm and works my robe open with the other. And shifts out of his clothes. His hands slide down to my knees and spread me open as wide as I’ll go. And then he’s in me. In one slick thrust, he buries himself all the way to the hilt, filling every part of me.
