33
The fire's warmthdoes little to thaw the ice in my veins as I watch her from across the hall. Everyone else has surrendered to exhaustion—Rhyland's soft snores mixing with Dani's steady breathing—but sleep eludes me. I couldn't leave Bryn to stand watch alone, though every moment in her presence is exquisite torture.
She raises her horn to those perfect lips, drinking deeply as firelight dances across her features. The flames reflect in her mismatched eyes, creating a hypnotic display that makes my chest ache. This morning's memory burns fresher than any wound—that worthless creature's hands on her body, his mouth claiming what should be mine. The image alone makes my fangs itch, jealousy coursing through me like poison.
I know I'm being a fool. She's clearly chosen another, and the thought of her rejecting our bond—rejecting me—is a special kind of hell I'm not prepared to face. Better to suffer in silence than risk the soul-crushing agony of mate denial. At least that's what I tell myself, even as possessive rage claws at my insides. Every time I close my eyes, I see his hands on her body, his lips stealing kisses that should belong to me. The urge to tear him apart had been nearly overwhelming.
It's why I sought oblivion in mead—a pathetic attempt to dull this constant, maddening pull toward her. This bone-deep ache that nothing can satisfy.
Her eyes suddenly lock with mine, and my breath catches as she rises with fluid grace. Each step she takes in my direction sends my pulse racing.
Fuck.
Dani's worry pierced through my carefully constructed walls, her empathy as potent as her sister's disdain. She's relentless in her worry, though I've given her no cause. My brother, suffers his mate's frustration because of my threats to keep silent. The weight of theircombined concern sits heavy on my shoulders, an unwanted reminder of what I'm denying myself.
But what purpose would confession serve? Bryn is Dani's blood, her newly discovered sister, and the contempt in those eyes whenever they fall upon me speaks volumes. Each dismissive glance, each cold shoulder, reinforces what I already know—she despises everything I am.
Why offer up my heart to someone who would surely crush it beneath her bootheel? No, it's better to bury these feelings deep and lock them away with other regrets. Let no one bear the burden of my fate's cruel joke. Once we leave this realm, distance will dull this maddening pull. The ache will fade or at least become bearable.
It has to.
"Having trouble finding your beauty rest, vampire?" Bryn's voice carries a playfulness as she settles beside me, close enough that her scent—battle steel and winter storms—assaults my senses. My fangs ache to descend, I clench my jaw, fighting for control.
The memory of Dani's blood from this morning sits heavy in my stomach—sustenance without satisfaction. It might as well be water compared to the siren call of Bryn's pulse, beating strong and steady beside me. The scent of her calls to me in ways no other's has, rich with power and divinity. My throat burns with thirst. It's maddening how ineffective my control is around Bryn—this mate-bond trying desperately to form.
"No," I manage, the word coming out harder than intended, fighting the urge to drag her into my arms and claim what fate declares is mine.
"Oh? The mighty Erik reduced to one-word answers?" She arches an eyebrow, those beautiful eyes glinting with challenge. "And here I thought vampires were supposed to be charming."
"Just tired." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
"Well, tough shit." She takes a long pull from her horn, her throat working in a way that makes my cock thick with need. "I'm stuck on watch duty, and you're the only entertainment available. So congratulations, you've been promoted to a conversation partner." Her lips curve into a predatory smile. "Unless you're not up for the challenge?"
I let my head fall back against the cold marble; the stone's chill is nothing compared to the ice I'm trying to maintain in my veins. "How may I be of service?"
The words drip with resigned sarcasm as I snatch her horn, deliberately letting my fingers brush against hers. The contact sends electricity through my arm. I drain the vessel in one long pull, the mead burning less than her presence beside me.
Her eyes widen at my audacity before that dangerous smile curves her lips—the same smile that's been haunting my dreams. "Well, well. The statue can move after all." She leans closer, her scent making my head spin. "Tell me, vampire, how did you end up playing guardian to my sister? What makes the mightyErikso special that Dani trusts you with her life?"
The way she says my name—like it's both a challenge and a caress—makes my balls ache. Every shift of her body, every subtle movement, draws my attention like a moth to a flame.
"For that particular tale, we'll need significantly more alcohol," I manage to say, keeping my gaze fixed on the dancing flames. Every muscle in my body remains rigid, fighting the urge to turn and drink in her presence. The stone at my back becomes an anchor, something solid to brace against as her proximity threatens to shatter my control.
"Fortunate for you then," her voice carries that melody that sets my fangs on edge, "I came prepared." The whisper of leather against stone tells me she's moved, and her scent grows stronger as she returns. The soft thud of her settling beside me again nearly breaks my resolve. A well-worn leather bladder appears in my peripheral vision, swollen with promise.
She fills the horn to the brim, the scent of honey and spices wafting between us as she hands it back. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, your history with my sister."
I accept the drink. "Dani is family now that she's…mated to Rhyland." The word 'mate' scrapes past my lips like broken glass, knowing what I'm denying myself. "She's proven herself a warrior worth following, fierce enough to match my brother's stubborn ass. I'm honored to call her sister."
"Hm." She plucks the horn from my grasp, her fingers ghosting over mine in a maddening caress. Refilling the vessel, she takes a long pull before continuing, "She speaks highly of you as well. Says you're one of the good ones—a vampire worth keeping around." Her eyes glint with curiosity as she leans closer, her scent torturing me. "But what about before Dani? Surely a vampire as old as you has a few skeletons in his closet."
My jaw ticks at her question, eons of carefully buried memories threatening to surface. The mead suddenly tastes bitter on my tongue. "I was a warrior," I finally admit, the words feeling like ancient rust in my mouth. "A knight during the Crusades. Led men into battle under the banner of faith and righteousness." A hollow laugh escapes me. "Ironic that I now walk the Earth as one of God's forsaken."
The confession hangs between us, heavy with unspoken horrors. I dare not look at her, afraid those eyes might see too deeply into the darkness of my past. Every warrior carries their demons, but mine have had millennia to fester.
"Really?" Bryn shifts closer, her warrior's interest piqued—curiosity in her eyes. "Enlighten me about these Crusades of yours, vampire. What drove a man to fight in the name of faith?"
I take another long pull from the horn, letting the mead fortify me against memories I've kept locked away. "I was young, barely twenty-five when I took up the cross. Second son of a noble house, raised on tales of glory and purpose." A bitter smile twists my lips. "The First Crusade, the year was 1096. Pope Urban II called for warriors to reclaim Jerusalem from Muslim control. We were young, foolish, drunk on promises of glory and divine salvation." My laugh holds no humor. "I led five hundred men across scorched earth and endless desert, watching them die from heat, disease, and enemy blades."
