“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’ve been on my feet all day, and then—well. This happened.”
“There is no need to apologize,” I reply. “You have endured more in a few hours than most do in a lifetime.” I turn slightly, addressing the maid hovering near the door. “Prepare a guest suite. One of the eastern rooms. Warm the bed. Draw a bath. And have the kitchens prepare a late supper—human food.”
“Yes, my lord,” the maid murmurs, already retreating.
Hanna hesitates again, fear flickering in her gaze. I catch it—and stop, meeting her eyes directly.
“You will not be fed upon,” I say plainly. “You will not be touched without consent. And you will be returned to your realm as soon as it can be done safely.”
Julia watches me closely as I speak, measuring every word. She nods at Hanna who lets out a shaky breath.
“Okay. Okay… thank you. That helps.” She looks at Julia again. “I’m really tired.”
“I know,” Julia says softly. “Go rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
I nod.
“I will have a maid show you the way. Julia will remain here.”
At that, it appears that Hanna finally lets herself relax. She gives Julia a sudden, fierce hug, then allows herself to be led away.
When the door closes behind her, silence settles.
Julia turns back toward the fire, one hand resting protectively over her abdomen, though she likely doesn’t realize she’s done it. The scent of her coming blood curls through the air again, stronger now.
I move to her side and place a hand on the back of her chair.
“You did well to reassure her,” I murmur.
She looks up at me, eyes bright and worried.
“She’s not going to be in danger, is she?”
“No,” I say without hesitation. “I will see to that.”
I lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, inhaling her warmth…her life…her magic.
“Come,” I say softly. “You need rest. And soon… comfort.”
Her breath catches in her throat, and she looks up at me uncertainly.
“What do you mean?”
“Just that I want to take care of you,” I tell her.
I just hope she’ll let me.
40
Jules
The ache has settled deep in my belly. A low, dull, grinding pain that sits heavy in my lower abdomen like a stone I can’t shift no matter how I move.
I know this feeling too well—it means this is going to be a bad one. It’s going to be the kind of night where I’d normally be curled up on my couch with a heating pad, counting down the minutes until the ibuprofen kicked in.
Except here, there’s no couch, no heating pad, and no ibuprofen.
Perfect, I think bitterly. Of course this would happen now.
