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There are more pressing matters to deal with.
“Please.” My voice comes out as a cracked whisper. “Helpme. I’ll give you…”
Anything.
If you still thirst for my blood, you can have it again. Just save my brother.
His brows draw together. His eyes narrow.
My heart catches.
Have I offended him?
“What do you need?” When he finally speaks, his voice is deep and smooth and resonant, the timbre a perfect complement to his decadent looks.
I have never encountered anyone so dangerous and yet so damn beautiful in my entire life.
“There are three young lads. One of them is badly wounded. Stabbed with a sword. He needs a healer. I was on my way to Tyron Castle, to request assistance from…” The words catch in my throat. Do I tell him that I’m Corvan Duthriss’s betrothed? Would that information help me, or put me in danger?
I decide to keep silent on that matter, for now.
“Archduke Duthriss?” The stranger’s lips curve ever so slightly. There is a hint of irony in his voice.
Does he find this amusing?
Irritation courses through me. “He is the lord of this land, is he not? He is honor-bound to provide assistance to travelers in distress.”
“That is true.” His expression is strange. I don’t entirely like it. “Where are they?”
I open my mouth, then close it again. Doubt swirls in my chest. Is it right that I reveal to this stranger—this powerful, dangerous being—the location of my brothers and their friend?
What if he devours them, too?
But I’m desperate, and without the horse, I can’t possibly reach the castle in time.
This savage stranger is my only hope.
“I won’t harm him,” he says, as if reading my mind. “You have my word.”
Gently, the pale man releases me from his arms. I sway on my feet and immediately stumble backwards, recoiling from him.
He waits; silently, patiently, giving me time to gather my composure.
“What doesyourword count for in this place?” I demand.
“I’d like to think it counts for something.” He puts his hand to his chest and offers me a look of perfect sincerity. “I canassureyou it counts for something. I will not hurt your man, my lady. If he is severely wounded, as you say, then time is of the essence, especially in this weather.”
My lady?I frown. How does he know to address me so? From the way he speaks—with his educated accent and natural authority—he could easily be nobility from the capital, but I don’t know any nobles with pure white hair and crimson eyes and a thirst for human blood.
Can I trust him?
Definitely not, but what choice do I have?
“How do I know you won’t drink from them… the way you did with me?”
“I have no need for that.” His gaze drops to my neck, where he bit me, making me feel terribly exposed. “I’m satiated now.”
“I don’t recall giving you permission to bite me,” I blurt, indignation erasing any semblance of caution.
