Page 91 of Given to the Black King

Gravel snaps behind me.

I look back.

Nothing.

I reach the yew walk. The hedges are taller than my head. The path bends twice before the fountain.

At the first bend I take off the ribbon and knot it to a branch.

At the second, I pull the front of my gown down and press my bare breast to the cold stone edging.

The shock makes me gasp.

My scent stays there.

I hear him growl from somewhere behind the hedge.

The sound is low enough to feel through my soles.

I run laughing because my body has nowhere else to put the fear and joy.

The fountain appears ahead. I cut across the open court.

A shadow drops from the wall.

He catches me before my next step lands.

One arm locks around my waist. The other catches both wrists against my chest. My feet leave the ground.

I kick. Twist. Throw my weight sideways.

He does not shift.

His mouth opens against the back of my neck.

No bite. Breath and fangs and the hard scrape of his lower teeth against my skin.

“Caught.”

The word is barely human.

I drive my heel backward. He turns his thigh and takes it without a sound.

“Let me go.”

He goes still.

His face turns enough to see mine.

I hold his gaze.

“Continue.”

His pupils spread until there is nothing else.

He carries me to the fountain and bends me over the stone rim.

My palms hit ice.