Page 111 of Dhampira

My throat went dry. His scent surrounded me, notes of soap, leather, and dark spices invading my lungs.

“Was I not supposed to?” I asked, my voice emerging just as low as his.

He gave his head a little shake. “Only a few among the Drachvi can see marks like mine.”

Oh. I licked my lips, then sucked in a breath when he looked at my mouth. “Well,” I said, my voice catching, “I’m not Drachvi. At least I don’t think so.”

“You’re not. I would feel it.” He frowned, the intensity in his eyes growing.

My heart sped up, and I knew he saw the vein fluttering in my neck.

“Your scars…” I began.

“Yes?”

“They look like burns.”

“They are.”

“From the dragon you killed?”

Lorcan lowered his gaze, his thick lashes dusting his cheeks. The furrow between his brows deepened. As close as we were, I saw every line, every bit of strain.

Every hint of sorrow.

“I can’t speak of it,” he whispered.

Something inside me loosened. I cupped his cheek, and he lifted his gaze. “We don’t have to,” I said.

He gave a tight nod. Then he pulled his hand from the shelf and pressed it over mine. Lowering his eyes again, he held my palm against his cheek, his skin so hot it was almost uncomfortable. But not quite. Not quite hot enough to burn—or cause me pain.

Dragon lord, Ruvien had called him. But perhaps not for the reason I’d thought.

Lorcan pulled my hand from his face, but he kept his grip on my fingers. “We have to talk about something else. Boddles are exceptionally fast tailors. That’s their magic. Iggleboddle is capable of making clothes within minutes, yet Rasimir ordered him to sew our wedding clothes today.”

My stomach tightened. “You think Rasimir will force us to wed sooner?”

“I can’t say for certain, but we need to be prepared for that possibility. He’s increasingly unstable and suspicious.”

My mind carried me back to the dungeon. Rasimir had pinned Lorcan to the wall, his fingers tight enough to fracture the bones in Lorcan’s throat. Rasimir had summoned Lorcan to attend him after the ball. He’d done the same after dinner each evening. And Lorcan went. What did he witness when he was alone with Rasimir? What did he endure?

“What do we do?” I asked now, panic gathering. I didn’t possess a single vor. Sure, I could see magic, but I couldn’t use it.

“We continue the plan,” Lorcan said. “Vander and I keep training you for as long as we can. We have to hope we can unlock at least some of your magic. We make you as strong as possible. And you should continue acting reluctant about the wedding. You did a good job in front of the knight yesterday. Keep doing things like that.”

“Why should I act reluctant? Rasimir wants us to marry.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t want you to be happy about it. Lilawen broke his heart. He’s never forgotten it. Rasimir can’t abide the idea of anyone finding the kind of happiness he had within his grasp and lost.”

For a moment, something like sympathy stirred in my chest. Then Duncan’s face flashed in my mind, and the feeling evaporated.

“He doesn’t deserve happiness,” I said. “Not after everything he’s done.”

Lorcan offered a weak smile. “Harness that sentiment and use it for fuel. But direct it toward me, not Rasimir. Let him see how much you hate me.”

The loosening feeling moved within me again, like a knot unraveling. He still held my fingers, his palm warm against mine. His smile shone in his dark eyes. Like the one he’d given me in the forest, it was small but genuine.

So were a lot of other things he’d done. Like speak warnings in my head to keep me safe. Like mourning Alon among the trees. Like claiming all of my dances at the ball so no one would mock me for not knowing how to dance. Like making me laugh in Iggleboddle’s workroom.