Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Another shudder rocked Emilia. She could still die of cold. The bear might return. Fighting his post-rage exhaustion, he levered himself to his feet, swept her up, and ran. In his arms, she stiffened at the nearness.
“Easy.” By the time he reached the ravines, the tension had left her body, and her lids had closed. His panic returned, giving his numbed legs speed. In the next corridor, he met Torben’s wild stare.
“What in the hells, Arctos?”
“Thank you, cousin. I have all in hand.”
“The vampire disobeyed an order,” Torben said low. “Your beloved regent will rage. And it looks like you might actually give a damn about this one’s fate now.”
Arctos muttered, “Tell the sentry and anyone who asks that Emilia took some air over a…jealous impulse. And hide her bag.” Lies now? For a vampire.
Torben nodded and hurried away.
In his den, Arctos laid her on the bearskin before the fire. She didn’t wake. He fed logs until heat licked the room, then fetched a blanket. He stripped off her boots, yanked free her pants.
She blinked groggily, uncomprehending. When he reached for her shirt, she came back to herself. “I can do it.” Her fingers fumbled and failed.
“You have to get warm.”
He tore off her shirt, wrapped her in the blanket, then drew out one arm at a time to chafe heat into her skin. “Better?”
“Better. Clothes?”
“Yes.” He fetched a long nightgown. “Can you manage?” When she weakly nodded, he turned his back.
A few moments later: “Dressed.”
He turned back, stifling a wince. Her face matched the fabric. “You’re too pale.” He poured vodka, stunned by how small and fragile she looked. “Drink.” He handed her the shot of liquor.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Drink.”
She dutifully took a sip, coughing from the burn. At least her fangs stopped chattering.
“I’ll return.” In his study, he stripped off his own drenched clothes, changed, then rejoined her.
She sat on a bench by the fire, glass in hand, her expression miserable. “I’m so sorry for putting you in danger.”
“You packed a sword. Why not slay the bear?” Then she wouldn’t have fallen in, wouldn’t have screamed his name while he lay with another. He would’ve spent the entire night with Undara, plenty of time for Emilia to escape—or for her to face other deadly perils outside his protection. The thoughts burned.
“The beast was enormous, its reach long. I didn’t believe I could strike it before it struck me.” Another sip of vodka, another cough. “And I thought your people held them sacred. I didn’t want you to kill me.”
“I’m not going to kill you.”
“You still think I’m a spy. Or some kind of saboteur. You believed I was meeting someone.” She frowned down at her drink, then finished it, so he repoured.
“I did. Though you probably wouldn’t have packed bread for such a short rendezvous.”
“Maybe I packed it in case I got caught.”
“Maybe.” The last of the Berserker afterburn left him shaking. “Godsdamn it, woman, you’ve tied me into knots. I was angry when you arrived here, and I said things I shouldn’t have. Things you clearly took to heart. I’ll remain on guard with you. But I won’t hurt you.”
“You can’t live like this either. You hardly eat. You’ve lost weight. I hear you pacing at night.”
“Is that why you left tonight? Why not wait until you are capable of regeneration?”
“I wondered that myself when the bear appeared.”
“Answer me, Emilia.”
“The opportunity arose.”
“In other words, the guard was occupied. Interesting that you don’t want to get him into any more trouble.”
A small, unhelpful shrug.
“What were you running toward?” he demanded. “What drove you?” Another shrug. “In a perfect Skein, what would your existence look like?”
“You’ll think it’s stupid.”
“Just tell me.”
She finished her shot, held out her glass. After a hesitation, he poured.
As if for courage, she tossed it back and spoke through the burn: “You’re not the only one who once dreamed of marriage! I…I want a scholar vampire. We read. We fall in love. We have a baby or two. We wave to neighbors.” A shaky breath. “You’re right about Umber—it is dangerous—but I’m more likely to find a life there than here.”
A scholar vampire? Arctos was as far from her dreams as could be imagined. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
She continued, “It’s the land of outcasts, and guess what I am.” She unsteadily waved at herself. “An outcast from at least two territories. And those are only the ones I’ve been to! More outcasting may arise.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
“As much as you deserve to see your nymph,” she added quietly, “when everyone watches you rebuke your ‘wife,’ they’ll never accept me. I’m not blaming you. I’m just…saying.”
Heat stung his wind-chapped face. She wasn’t wrong. He poured himself a measure and downed it.
She lifted her glass as well, already looking affected.
He wanted answers. He poured. “I can’t give you everything you want,” he said. “But I could give you some freedom—if you make me believe you mean us no harm.”