Page 70 of Blackthorn


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His hand covered hers. The tremor was so slight she might never have noticed if he hadn’t growled before snatching his hand away.

“After the feast, there is a matter we need to discuss,” he said.

Ah. So that was it. He was sending her away.

Disappointment hit her harder than she expected. She had anticipated this—dreaded it, to be honest. She liked Draven. Yes, he was a surly, brooding bastard but…no, she needed to stop making allowances for his abysmal behavior. He asked her to come to his mountain fortress in bad faith and now rejected her because she could not do the impossible.

Still, he might have no regard for her, but she remained concerned for his well-being. “You did not answer my question. Are you well?” she asked.

“A headache. It is of no consequence,” he said.

“So you are in pain. Honestly, why make such a production of it? We’ll stay.” Charlotte kicked off her slippers. “There. My shoes are off. It is done. We’re staying in. I have headache powder. It’s best in tea. Let me make you a cup.” She kept a kettle warming on the fire out of habit, so there was no need to wait for hot water.

“Charlotte, the entirety of the Aerie is expecting us.”

Heavens, he was stubborn.

Draven stood in front of the fireplace. Dressed in his finery with his hair neatly pulled back in a queue and a legendary sword on his hip, he looked cool and composed. Only the tightness around his eyes hinted that something was amiss.

“One cup of tea,” she said in a gentle tone.

“We’ll be late.”

“Impossible. It’s your party.”

That earned her a slight smile. “Very well. Have your way with me, sweetness.”

Charlotte poured the hot water into a pot, careful not to splash the fine material of her gown or think too much on what it meant that he still used a pet name for her when he was sending her away. No good would come from such reflections. Playing nursemaid to a vampire with a headache was not what she expected to be doing while suffering her crushing disappointment, but it seemed a better option than forcing herself to smile through a lavish dinner and dance.

“There,” she said, handing Draven the cup. “That took no time at all.”

Draven muttered his thanks and drained the cup. He pulled a face but made no complaints. “Satisfied?”

Not really, but she was reluctant to question why he would hold a party when he was unwell. Why did he insist on parading her about when he had already rejected her? It seemed needlessly cruel. Couldn’t he just let her hide for one night? They’d circle around again in an endless argument.

It was time for a different line of questioning.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, pouring him a second cup.

“I’m always hungry,” he muttered, frowning as he accepted the cup.

“Do you need—” She held out her wrist, her hand clenched lightly in a fist. Other than her first night in the Aerie, they never discussed his…unusual diet. She felt the scrape of his fangs on her neck and throat, but he never bit. She had to admit, she was curious about the alleged aphrodisiac qualities of his venom.

Draven looked at her like she lost her mind.

“I don’t mind,” she said.

“No,” Draven said quickly, sounding appalled. “I do not require that from you.”

Charlotte pulled her arm back, schooling her features to remain calm and hide her disappointment. Another barrier between them. “It was only a thought. I’m concerned for your well-being.”

“Charlotte,” he said, warning in his tone. “I am well. I am at the height of my powers. Drinking now would be superfluous and indulgent.”

She held up her hand to indicate her surrender. He had no use for her. She understood. “Very well, but now I am curious as to how the solstice is affecting you.”

“How is it affecting me?” His eyes—red, so red—burned. He stood abruptly, knocking the chair to the floor. He grabbed the compass hanging on a chain around her neck and yanked it forward, forcing her to follow. Roughly, he gathered her to him. He held her tightly, his fingers digging into the softer flesh of her back.

He claimed her lips in a harsh kiss, more teeth than lips. Her body responded to his demands, melting against him, and wanting more. Always more. She barely noticed as he lifted the hem of her dress, his hands sliding up her thigh. When he pulled back, she was breathless. And confused.

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