Could Jerome have been right after all? Was he really some monster put on this earth for no other purpose than to seek innocent blood?
Ariel’s blood.
Growling at his own stupidity over the thought of buying into the monk’s insanity, Valteri knocked the basin from the table. Water hit the wall and splashed against his face and chest and still his anger grew.
Ariel awoke with a startled gasp. For a full minute, she couldn’t place what had awakened her.
Until she remembered the night before.
Valteri had carried her to bed.…
Heat stung her cheeks as she remembered the way she’d broken down and confessed that she was afraid of Belial. That there were still large portions of her memories that were missing.
One minute he’d been comforting her and the next…
She still wasn’t sure how it’d happened. But there was no denyingthismemory. The heat of his kisses.
The feel of him inside her.
I’m a maiden no more.…
She should be horrified. And yet something inside her felt that this wasn’t wrong. That she should be tied to Valteri.
It made no logical sense whatsoever. She was the first to admit it.
He was the only solid thing in her life. The only thing she felt that she could rely on.
Depend on.
How could she feel guilt or shame over that?
Yet she could tell by his expression that he felt both. That he stared at her, waiting for her to curse him over something that was as much her fault as his.
She had willingly gone to his bed.
And she’d do it again.
“You startled me.” She clutched the blankets to cover her naked body.
Valteri looked away as another wave of desire devoured his will until he couldn’t move for fear of what he might do.
Because he knew exactly what he wanted to do again and again with her until they were both sweaty and spent.
“Milady, I…” Valteri hesitated.
What could he say? He was cursed and bastard born while she was the noblest of all creatures? That he should never have touched her?
They both knew the truth. No words would rectify what he’d so callously taken, nor would they remove the seed he may have planted. Of all men, he knew the wounds given by people’s hostile tongues. The cost of one moment’s thoughtless actions because his own father couldn’t keep his prick in his breeches.
A lifetime of misery bought for want of one second of restraint.
The thought of so gentle a woman bearing his mother’s scars tore through him. How could he put her through an even worse nightmare than what his own mother had endured?
I’m such a selfish ass.
She wrapped the sheet around herself and moved from the bed.
He stood immobile, wanting her comfort, and terrified of what receiving it could cost him.
