AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He twirled the silver dagger, his lips nearly in a smirk, then offered it to her, hilt first. “What interesting toys you keep on your person.”
“Don’t act so scandalized. You’ve seen it before.” Charlotte snatched her dagger back and bent to secure it in her garter. “You’re one to talk with a sword on your hip.”
“It’s a symbol.” He lightly touched the hilt of Blackthorn.
“If you must know, I find the dagger comforting.”
“Your emotional support dagger is charming.” He leaned in, pressing his lips to her ear. “To answer your question, hunger is all I feel. It consumes me. All my thoughts are how much I want to devour you, sweetness. Every breath. Every sigh. Every last drop of you. My control is thin. I’ll give in.”
A hungry vampire who wanted to devour her had her in his clutches. She lacked the strength to free herself or fight him if he gave in to temptation. Anyone with a sense of self-preservation would be nervous or try to push away. Charlotte had neither.
“Perhaps you should,” she said.
Teeth nipped at her ear. She couldn’t hide a yearning groan.
“My hunger is constant, and nothing will satisfy it except your sweet, rich blood. I want to tear out the throats of anyone who looks at you. I’d paint the Aerie crimson to please you. Would it, sweetness?” Another nip, this one harder and less playful. Serious. Dangerous. He wasn’t teasing or being poetic. He struggled not to slaughter them all, starting with her.
“No,” she answered, trying desperately to keep her voice steady. If she were a proper anchor, he wouldn’t feel the strain.
Draven stepped back. The cool, distant mask was back. “That is the strain of the solstice. I am one impulsive thought away from ending you. Does that answer your question?”
She nodded. “What can I do?”
He flashed a smile. “Put on your shoes. Show the people of the Aerie that they have nothing to fear from their monster tonight.”
Draven
The Aerie
Assembly Hall
“I see Jane. I have a question about poinsettias.” Charlotte lightly touched his arm before departing. She had been acting strangely all evening. He wanted to keep her by his side until he understood the reason but binding her with rope was generally frowned upon in polite society. Not that anyone would include Draven in their description of polite society. Regardless, Charlotte left, and he nodded to the guard, giving a silent command to follow.
“Another success,” Lemoine said. She mimicked his posture, folding her arms behind her back as she surveyed the assembly hall.
Along one wall to form a barrier, branches flocked with white fluff meant to mimic snow and festooned with blood-red ribbons. A winter forest, he supposed, but the overall effect was bleak, despite the liberal number of ribbons and red-petaled poinsettias. Benches had been pushed to the side to make space in the center. Spirited music played, and people indulged in country dances.
Normally, such affairs were an exercise in patience. Tonight, the atmosphere was off. Wrong. Draven studied the crowd. Did they laugh too loudly? Were they too tense? Skittish? Did they hide weapons on their person or have them stashed about the hall?
Charlotte spoke to another woman, presumably the Jane with the poinsettia knowledge. He did not know the first thing about what was fashionable, but he knew Charlotte was a vision in her gown of blushing rose, glimmering under the candlelight. She wore her hair loose about her shoulders and the familiar compass rested against her skin.
Charlotte paused mid-conversation and turned toward him. She smiled. For him. His chest felt tight, like he struggled for breath, and the only source of oxygen was her smile.
“Do you agree, Lord Draven?” Lemoine asked. She followed his gaze and huffed. “Charlotte is making a spectacle of herself.”
“Lady Charlotte,” Draven said.
“Pardon?”
“You refer to me as Lord Draven. She is my wife. The honorific applies. Kindly repeat yourself because I’m afraid I misheard. It sounded as if you were less than kind regarding Lady Charlotte for enjoying the holiday party you insisted we must have for her honor. I must be mistaken because you’d never be so rude.”
Her jaw clenched. “My apologies. The noise from the crowd makes conversation difficult. Lady Charlotte appears to be enjoying the festivities.”
A halfhearted apology and a lie. Lemoine insulted him.
“You disapprove of Lady Charlotte,” he said.
“You do not require my approval, Lord Draven.”
