by Apryl Baker
Roman let out a long suffering sigh. “You enjoy testing my patience, don’t you?”
“Strangely, yes.”
The laughter in her eyes eased some of the tension in him. His muscles relaxed when he inhaled her scent of warm vanilla. Roman fought the urge to haul her into his arms and kiss her. He needed to talk to her about the conversation with the boy this morning, but first she needed to eat.
“Wait here until I return.” He left before she could refuse. Maeve, the camp cook, had been dishing out some kind of stew earlier. He grabbed two bowls and a hunk of bread while he waited his turn in line. The old woman filled his bowls without looking up. He’d rescued her from a dungeon about ten years ago. She hadn’t said a word in all that time. He thanked her and hurried back to his tent. When he saw Lucern talking to Katyia, he put wings on his feet.
“It’s all right, girl,” Lucern said just as Roman arrived. “No harm done.”
“Truly, it’s a prank I used to play on my brothers all the time. It wouldn’t have hurt you.”
The woman did not know how to stay put. Roman nodded to Lucern. The man was being a good sport about it, at least.
Lucern waved Katyia’s apologies off. “I’ll leave you two to your meal.”
Roman ushered her back inside, handing her a bowl of stew and half the bread. He set his down and then collected cups and a jug of water before returning to where she now sat.
“Thank you,” she murmured and sniffed at the bowl. “What is this?”
“No idea.” He took a bite and still couldn’t identify what was actually in the stew. No one questioned Maeve. They just took their food and ate.
“Chewy.” Katyia made a face. Roman knew she was used to eating more extravagant fare, but it was the best they could do. His gaze traveled over her. She still wore her bloodstained clothes. He’d send someone to the Regent’s manor to collect some of her clothes. They’d sent her here in a nightgown. She had to be freezing. Something he should have thought of earlier when he’d taken her for a walk. Vampires didn’t feel the cold like a human. They could bear it, but without proper clothes, they could only take the cold for so long.
He stood and fetched her one of his woolen shirts. He’d ask around to see if he could find some pants to put on until he could collect her clothes. “Here, this should be warmer than that shift. And cleaner.”
She took it, a grateful smile on her lips. “Turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn around,” she repeated. “So I can change.”
He turned on his heel, his face warm. He heard clothes rustling and couldn’t resist the urge to peek. What he saw set his blood boiling. A maze of crisscrosses covered her back. He knew exactly what they were. Whip marks. Someone had beaten her many, many times. A low, feral growl roared to life and she jumped, startled. He moved without thinking, his hands tracing the lines.
She gasped, but didn’t move. Her body turned a startling shade of crimson, a full body blush. “I told you to turn around!”
“Who did this to you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Were it not for his vampire hearing, he wouldn’t have heard her whispered reply.
“Yes, Katyia, this matters.” His fingers ran over the deep marks, his fury mounting with each new scar. Not an inch of her flesh had been spared. Who would do this to another person?
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She stepped away from him and pulled his shirt on as quickly as she could. “Please.”
His lips thinned. As much as he didn’t want to upset her, she was going to tell him about those scars. He took her arm and escorted her back to their meal. She let out a sigh of relief, assuming he was letting her have her way.
The boy he’d met this morning had said Katyia needed protecting, but Roman hadn’t gotten to question him on it. Katyia’s need to feed had taken precedence. The scars she carried on her back had to be what the child had been talking about.
“Tell me about your scars.”
“Why won’t you just leave it alone?” Distressed, her hand shook when she picked up her cup of water. “None of that matters anymore.”
He took the cup from her and then encased her tiny hands in his own. “Who did this to you? Was it your father?”
“God no!” she denied. “My father would never lay a hand on me.”
“Then who?” he persisted. “Your stepmother?”
The way she tensed up gave him his answer. He wanted to hunt the woman down, string her up, and then strip the flesh from her back just as she’d done with Katyia.
“My mother didn’t like to be disobeyed or made to look a fool of in front of her friends.”
“Don’t call her that again.” Roman pulled her closer, hugging her to his side. “She’s doesn’t deserve the title.”
Katyia curled into him, her words slow, but she began to talk. “I could never please her. When I did something she didn’t like, I was punished. Naughty children had to learn their lessons. Afterwards, Susan would come and treat my wounds. She took care of me.”
“That’s why you didn’t want to feed from her?” he asked, understanding her severe reaction.
Katyia nodded. “She was our nanny, but she always looked out for me the most. I head Susan arguing with my mother once over the whippings. She threatened to go to my father if they continued.”
“What happened?”
“Olivia told her she was free to tell anyone she wanted, but Susan should remember her own children’s welfare before she concerned herself with me. It was a veiled threat even I understood at that age. Tattle about the punishments, and Susan’s children would suffer for it.”
“Bitch.”
Katyia laughed, bitter. “She is that and more.”
Roman’s anger intensified. What kind of person would beat a child? If he did nothing else, he’d make sure she was held accountable for what she’d made his mate suffer through.
His mate. He rolled the words around. The more he said it, the more right it felt. She chipped away at the ice he’d put around his heart, and it scared him. If he let himself care and then he lost her, Roman didn’t think he could bear it. Not after everything else he’d already lost.
“No one will ever hurt you again,” he vowed, pulling her tighter. “Now eat. Then we’ll go get you fed for the night.”
She nodded and picked her food back up. Roman watched her, his heart clenching at how vulnerable and young she looked. No matter what he might feel about her or not, no one was ever going to lay another finger on her. She’d suffered enough.
After they’d walked back from the feeders’ housing, Roman led her to the river. He waited patiently while she washed off in the freezing waters. Cold didn’t bother them as much as it would a human. She’d taken the soap and washcloth gratefully. He’d stood guard while she cleaned up, and it was only when he heard her cursing that he looked over his shoulder. A laugh burst forth when he saw her leaning haphazardly trying to wash her hair and keep from actually falling in the river. The girl had a mouth on her, that was for sure. It must have been the influence of her brothers. He couldn’t imagine the guards saying such words within distance of her.
A startled cry broke free and he watched as she fell. The loud splash and the squeal that followed sent him running. Cold might not bother them, but even they were susceptible to hyperthermia if they got cold enough. He reached in and plucked her out, hauling her up, spluttering and cursing worse than any soldier he’d ever heard.
“Calm yourself,” he ordered when she struggled against him, her naked flesh pressed solidly along his frame. He closed his eyes to try to stem the images flashing in front of them. He’d scare her if she knew the carnal images flooding his mind.
“I’m freezing!” she wailed.
“You fell in an ice cold river. I’d be surprised if you weren’t freezing.” A chuckle slipped past his lips and she snarled at him.
“This isn’t funny.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “It�
��s not funny, it’s hilarious.”
Her cursing started again and he swatted her on the ass. “Stop that. Where did you learn to say such things? It’s not at all proper for a lady.”
She let out a hysterical laugh. “I’m not a lady, though, am I? I’m just the bastard daughter of the Regent who he threw away.”
Roman pulled her close, his arms tightening around her. Sobs broke free and she held on to him, her tears mixing with the river water running down her face. He held her while she let out her anger, her pain, her rage. The fall had been the last straw for her. He’d been waiting for this all day. All new turns eventually broke down and railed at the unfairness of it all. Even the ones who took to being a vampire like a duck to water. No one wanted to live off other people for the rest of their lives. Humans weren’t wired like that. Naturally born vampires suffered from no such dilemma. Humans were food, plain and simple. They respected their food, took care of them like cherished family members, but they understood their place in the grand scheme of the food chain.
For Katyia, she was dealing with a little more than that realization. She dealt with her family’s betrayal, her turning, and her ravager blood. That, more than anything, was going to be hard for her to accept, but he knew with time, she would. They all did, eventually.
“Come, little kitten, let’s get you warm.” He picked her up and carried her back to his tent, where he sat her down in front of the fire and draped a heavy fur over her. He built up the fire so it would give off more heat. Katyia needed heat as much to warm her body as to stave off shock. He could see it trying to overtake her. She’d had a hell of a day, and he was surprised she’d held up for as long as she did.
He took several furs off a stack in the corner and began to make up the bed. He’d tossed a coarse blanket over her last night because she’d been covered in blood. When he turned back to her, he saw her glancing around, frowning. “Why are you frowning now?”
“This is your tent?” She cast her hand outward, sweeping the length of the room.
“Aye.”
Her frown deepened. “Where is my tent?”
“Your tent?”
“The place I’m sleeping tonight?” Sarcasm rolled off her tongue and he grinned. She was coming back around to the spitfire he’d beheld all day.
“Here, Katyia. You are sleeping in my tent.”
“I most certainly am not.” Outrage flashed in her eyes.
“Why not?” he countered, not even trying to suppress the chuckle that escaped.
“Because…well, because it’s not proper!”
He walked over, picked her up, and then deposited her on the bed, quickly stripping himself and joining her. He had her pulled tight and covered them with furs before she had time to blink. “Be still, woman. I am not going to harm you.”
“Let me go.” The words tumbled out, all rushed and hurried. He heard panic in the jumbled words. She struggled and he threw a leg over both of hers, only caring about how cold she was. He ignored his body’s reaction to her.
“No, Katyia. Your body needs heat, and the best way to get you warm is skin to skin. You’re already trying to go into shock, so let’s not add hypothermia as well.”
She went still, his words registering through her panic.
“See?” he told her a few minutes later. “You’re already getting warmer.” So was he, unfortunately. His body could only stand so much before it reacted to her closeness. He could feel himself growing hard and bit back a groan when she shifted, inadvertently rubbing against him.
“Yes,” she agreed, her voice small and soft. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She shifted again and he closed his eyes, close to pain.
“So tomorrow, you’ll take me to my own tent?”
“No. You’ll stay in mine.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone out there wants you dead. You’re safer here with me.”
“But what if I don’t want to be here?”
“Too bad.” He leaned down, his mouth grazing her ear. “You’re stuck here with me. Now go to sleep, little one. I think we’ve both had enough for one day.”
She quieted a few minutes later, her breathing evening out. He lay there for a long time later, sleep eluding him, only one thought running through his head.
His mate.
But did he want her?
A week later, Katyia stroked her horse’s head. Smoke nudged her hand, looking for sugar cubes. The inky black horse had streaks of blue and a flash of white through his coat, hence his name.
“Sorry, boy,” she said. “No sugar today.”
The horse tossed his head arrogantly in response, and she laughed. She’d spoiled him rotten over the years. Gavin delivered him yesterday along with a load of clothes for the entire camp. They’d all been grateful for the extra clothes, vampire and human alike. Leave it to her brother to think of how cold it must be for everyone. He’d make an excellent Regent. If only he’d been born with magic. Such was the way of Fate.
Lucern had gone to the manor and brought back some of her clothes a few days ago. Katyia wasn’t sure who put them together, but they’d sent her pants, shirts, a few dresses, and her heavy winter boots and coat. She owed them. They’d saved her from frostbite.
This morning had started out dreary, and the cold drizzle promised a miserable day. She looked over to where Roman stood, barking out orders. Such a brute. But he wasn’t. Not really. Sure, he was abrupt, stern, and quite rude sometimes, but underneath it all was a very kind man. She’d seen glimpses of his true character in the way he’d cared for her after her turn, from helping her learn to get a grasp on her bloodlust, to always making sure she had the things she needed. Not that she didn’t want to throw very large, very heavy objects at his head sometimes. She did. Quite often.
A smile teased her lips. He was ornery, but she did enjoy riling him up just to see his face go all red. No one dared yell at him in camp, not even Greggor. Another thing she did quite often. Which wasn’t like her at all. She tended to be quiet, reserved. Years of conditioning from Olivia made sure she stayed in the shadow of her sister. With Roman, all her inhibitions melted away and she stood toe to toe with him.
Katyia liked him. More than she should. She doubted she was more than a nuisance to him. One he had to deal with in order to get what he wanted. She snorted, causing her horse to give her a flat stare. He was not in the mood for her antics. No sugar for him meant the cold shoulder for her. She gave him a pat and turned her attention back to Roman.
Convincing him to take her to his uncle’s stronghold hadn’t been easy. She’d wanted to go the next day, but he’d refused until she got a little more control of her bloodlust. She wouldn’t call it control. More like being able to tolerate the scent of a human for a few hours at a time without letting herself rip them to shreds. None of the other new turns experienced the same vivid images of violence she did. The ravager blood had to be the culprit. It made everything harder for her, but she was coping. Her desire for vengeance against her mother drove her to gain control of herself.
Roman gave her a purpose. She was indebted to him, but she cared for him too. Not that she’d admit that to him. He was the kind of man who would use that information to his advantage. A soft side, he might have, but he was ruthless too. Katyia never let herself forget that simple fact. He wanted something from her. And he’d use every tool in his arsenal to get it.
For a man determined to confront his uncle and regain his throne, he sure did hem and haw a lot, though. Dragged his feet worse than her little brother when it came to taking a bath. It did make her wonder if perhaps he had started to care for her just a bit. Impossible pipe dream, but the notion stuck in the back of her mind. It was the only thing that made sense when it came to reconciling what she knew about him and his actions in response to taking her to the stronghold.
He saw her staring at him and looked none too pleased. Well, hell, what had she done now?
She plastered
a fake smile on her face and walked over to where he stood with Lucern and Greggor and a few others she didn’t know. They all nodded to her, but didn’t say much of anything. None of the people here was quite friendly to her, but no one had been rude after that first morning. Mostly, they kept to themselves and ignored her. It bruised her feelings, but she understood their demeanor. She might act the same if she were in their shoes. They were all trained to flee and hide or kill a ravager on sight. Now they had one living in their midst against their will. She’d be hard pressed to be friendly either.
“Are we about ready to go?” she asked once she came to a stop beside Roman.
“We can put the trip off a bit longer…”
“No.” She stopped him. “We need to get this done. You said yourself newborns are strongest in the first few weeks of awakening. That means my magic will never be stronger, it’ll only weaken. Best to try this now.”
His lips thinned, but he didn’t argue further. He nodded to the other three men standing across from them. “This is Olaf, Javul, and Kreigel. They will be coming with us.”
“Will everyone be safe with so many of us gone?” It worried her incessantly to have her people here, outside the wards, where they could be attacked at any moment.
“They will be fine.”
“How do you know they will be fine?” she asked. “What if something happens? What if a ravager gets in…”
“Then perhaps we shouldn’t go?” A sly look shadowed his eyes, turning them a darker shade of blue.
“I didn’t say that. I’m just worried.”
“You insult me by questioning the safety of our people.” Roman’s nostrils flared.
Katyia rolled her eyes. Men were such babies sometimes. “I don’t mean to be insulting. When I have a question about something, I will ask. When I have reservations about something, I will speak up, and when I think something isn’t right, I will argue. That is just me, Roman. Get used to it or don’t, but stop getting all pissy about it. It’s starting to annoy me.”
The men around them stepped back. Roman looked thunderous, but she stared right back at him, her own storm clouds rolling in around her. He could make her go from happy and content to being so angry she seriously thought about turning him into a skunk for a few days.
