“What’s wrong?”
“This,” he snarled, his fingers shaking visibly. His fangs, now fully sprouted, glinted against the firelight. “All of this. I’m the delivery boy. Your courier on the way to the throne.” As if speaking to himself, he sneered at the ceiling. “We won’t fool anyone. I can’t have you.”
The back of her neck prickled as she tried to process the scathing words flowing from his mouth.
“Is this about Sinclair? I thought you understood that I would never want to be wed to him. I could never. It’s true, he repulses me—”
“No, it’s not. I know you’re smart enough to turn him down.”
“Right, so what’s the problem?”
“How do you know you are any safer, any better off with me than him? And you’re reckless,” he said, speaking with his hands as if he didn’t quite know where to put them. “You’re this crazy woman full of chaotic energy, Lilac, you’ve the discipline of a child and it’s foolish, continuing to put yourself at risk—"
“Putting myself at risk?” Lilac leaned away at his sudden, simmering rage. “I’m safe with you, you’ve proved it time and time again.”
“Does it matter? I frighten you.” He was prowling like an animal now, lips lifted into an annoyed snarl at her bewilderment. “You’ll only trust me so long as I’ve got this curse, these invisible shackles that’ve made me safe. Because that’s the only thing that’s kept me from harming you this entire time, right? Unless you forget what I did to your beloved’s bodyguards.”
He crooned so softly he could have been romancing her. Through the threat in his voice, she could tell he was trying to scare her again.
“While Sinclair was busy groping you against your will, I decapitated the first guard with my bare hands. I drank from the blood flowing freely from his veins, and then hurled his severed head at the second guard who’d fled. It broke his spine upon impact.”
Fuming, Lilac wanted to get up and punch him; instead, she stood—and surprised herself and began to cry. She sunk her nails into per palms. He was being vindictive, to what end? “Must you speak of that as if I’m not here?” she hissed. “Why are you saying all this, where is it coming from?”
“Because I want to prove to you that you cannot humanize me with your feelings,” he said, desperation cracking his voice. “No matter how badly you may want to. You can’t fall for the good in me and ignore the dark. I am one of the creatures your kingdom hates and I always will be. Despite my brokenness, I’m still a monster, princess. One you cannot fix.”
He stared down at her exposed, healed throat. He would kill her; it’d be the end of the Trecésson line, then and there. After all they’d been through, he wouldn’t make her suffer. He couldn’t.
But his mouth continued to move over his fangs. “The night we’d met, I’ll admit it was Adelaide’s curse that stopped me from biting you. However, Your Highness, in all the ways I crave you right now,” he muttered, bending to speak against her forehead, “neither hell nor high water could stop me from having my way. The entire Breton Cavalry could come for my head, and yet… yet, just a taste of your exquisite blood from the vein would be worth it.”
“Why haven’t you?” she challenged.
His mouth pulled into a hard line as he struggled with his composure. Instead of answering, he hung his head.
“I wish not to fix you,” she said softly. Only to… To what? To love him? “You won’t push me away by scaring me. I’m afraid of a lot of things. I’m not the bravest woman, nor do I pretend to be her. I feared all of the things in Brocéliande, yet, I came at her with all I had.”
The vampire studied her carefully. At least he was listening.
“None of this was a concern to you when you tried to trap me at the inn,” she scoffed. “Or when you dragged me to your Mine.
So, if you want to talk about the guilt of being a monster, by all means.”
Her breaths came in deep snarls now. “The shapeshifter I’d found in our kitchen was executed, beheaded right in front of me.
Since then, my own parents have rarely looked me in the eye. I was told I wasn’t allowed into any of the towns, forbidden from setting foot outside the castle grounds for fear their cursed daughter would be seen. To this day, everyone sees my reign as a horrible omen, and I’ve carried that for years, Garin.” She swallowed her tears. “Just as you’ve carried Adelaide. What I’m saying is… We all have demons, but we can’t hold onto them long enough for them to turn us into monsters. And for one godforsaken moment,” she tried—and failed—to keep the waver out of her voice. “What about the things I want?”
She felt a stab of guilt the moment the words were out. It wasn’t up to him, or anyone, to give her the things she desired. She only said it because he was very much part of what she wanted most—and she hoped he took it that way.
Garin absorbed the shock of her fury willingly, his face unreadable as he took in her wild hair, glistening eyes, and flushed cheeks.
“I am afraid of you.”
Lilac placed both palms flat against his bare chest. His skin felt cool and flushed at the same time. “Of the things I feel.”
“Don’t,” he groaned.
She removed her hands, forcing them at her side. She told the truth, but her words were just the tip of the dagger. She was afraid of what they’d become—of the way she couldn’t imagine her life without his friendship. Afraid of the way she was tempted to leave the kingdom forever if it meant staying here, with him. He’d said the past was hers, that he’d had nothing to hide.
Deep in the darkest corner of her soul, Lilac wanted now and the future, and everything in between.
“If you want the same things that I want, then I don’t get it,” she croaked. “And if you don’t, then please—”
“Stop,” he said firmly, shrinking the gap between them. “I would love to be everything and anything you want, princess. But you’re here on a mission to change who you are, the magic in you, with a simple potion or utterance of words. You’re purposefully placing yourself in the way of potentially dark, dangerous magic just to fix some trite ailment—”
Lilac’s cheeks burned. He’d never voiced any concern over that before. “Trite?” she growled.
He mirrored her action and tried to place his hands upon her shoulders, but she only shrugged away. “Back in Cinderfell, when you mentioned a powerful witch in Paimpont, I too got excited. Like a fool, my initial thought was that I would ask her to try and lift my own curse. But then, I realized that I would rather keep it. My curse keeps you safe.”
Lilac shook her head vigorously, about to say that she would never, ever ask that of him.
But she stopped herself. Wouldn’t she?
“My point is, if you cannot live with the shard of darkness that rests within you, then tell me, princess… How will you live with all of mine?”
Lilac stared at Garin, and he returned her gaze wordlessly.
“What is a curse to you, might seem a blessing to others,” he said quietly.
She took a gentle step back, not out of fear or regret, but to process. For many years, shed tears, and the spaces between, she’d wanted nothing more than to rid herself of the curse that had alienated her from the rest of society. From her family.
So why did it suddenly feel like choosing the witch meant losing Garin?
The thought was almost too much to bear.
“Kiss me.” The words flowed effortlessly from her lips.
“Lilac.” He pulled away, gently sweeping her aside and taking a seat at the edge of the bed.
Lilac sighed, pivoting on her heel and placing herself between his legs. “Then bite me. Undress me. Anything that will help me understand just what it is I am feeling for you.”
At this, his eyes searched hers furiously. Then, as if testing himself, he hesitantly rested his hands upon her hips. “And what is it exactly, Your Highness, that you think you feel?” Irises suddenly cold steel under his lashes, he gave a sharp laugh. �
�And tell me, what has possessed you to offer yourself to a vampire in that way?”
“I know that I am afraid,” she breathed. “Of everything. But not of this. Not of you.”
And although she knew it wasn’t true—for how could she not feel fear—for the first time, it was the crippling humanity in him, and not the monster, that frightened her.
She straddled her long legs over his lap. And although it was a lie, it was also a blazing truth. Despite everything in her upbringing telling her this was horribly, unforgivably wrong, the most fucked up act of royal anarchy she could ever commit—
She wanted this. Him. For as long as he’d want her, and maybe longer still.
She inhaled sharply as his fingertips dug into the small of her back; Garin leaned forward and parted her lips with his.
Deepening their kiss, her tongue found his briefly before she knocked him back onto the bed. Right or wrong, she owed it to herself to give in. To give herself the things she wanted, for herself and no one else.
Forgetting her etiquette entirely, Lilac’s skin prickled as her slender form under the thin tunic fit perfectly against his. It seemed she couldn’t quite kiss him deep or fast enough to accurately express the frantic need within her.
Deftly, he flipped them both over so that she lay under him. In the fluid motion, her tunic was caught in the blanket; part of the hem hitched up above her navel. Feeling the cold draft over her legs, she instantly reddened and moved to pull the cloth back down—but Garin caught her wrist. Her arm was especially tiny in his long, clenched fingers; he surveyed her face hesitantly, as if his own hastened movement had shocked him as well.
Panting slightly, the vampire lifted his eyebrows with a softened expression, as if to request permission.
Lilac released her tunic. Bunching the material in his own hand, Garin gingerly hoisted it over Lilac’s head.
The vampire peered fixedly at her now. His gaze fostered a silent calm, as if the turmoil within his shell of a monster had finally splintered—or else, become so complete that it no longer flickered any glimpse of sanity at the seams. The awe moved into something resembling an insatiable madness as his gaze passed slowly over her breasts—trailing lower, lower still—then back up again. He stealthily climbed over her, planting his lips upon her collarbone, kissing along her burning flesh until he reached her healed bite mark.
Her breath hitched when he hovered above the skin where Piper’s teeth had broken through. Pausing there, Garin seemed to scrutinize her veins with his nose; even then, a small noise of anticipation escaped her throat only when she felt his fingertips pleading the insides of her thighs.
At the sound, he immediately pulled back to rest his brow against her shoulder. “Princess.” His voice was pleading.
Lilac propped herself up, cheeks reddening further as she yanked the sheets halfway over her bottom. “Did I do something?”
“No, not at all. You belong to the kingdom,” he breathed. “I’m bringing you to the witch as promised. If I’m to keep you safe, then I can’t… This in particular is incredibly reckless. Your head needs to be clear for your coronation.”
“But do you not want—”
“You know what I want,” Garin interjected darkly.
Lilac bit her lip. Crown or no crown, she knew what she’d wanted. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to offer herself up to the Darkling before her. To the creature who so willingly risked his reputation and life for her, his own adversary. Even then, she knew Garin would never try to underwhelm the ruler she was meant to be. Unlike the bowing, scraping servants and the severe, cold scholars and the distant king and queen… Garin was the first to treat her in a way that felt like home. Not as royalty, and not a Darkling sympathizer, either, but as a person worth a damn and more, regardless of her beliefs. It had nothing to do with whether or not he obeyed her orders—she doubted he ever would—and everything to do with the way he looked at her. The things he expected of her.
Garin rose on his arms to glance almost warily down at her. Pinned by his gaze, she slowly ran her palms along his shoulders down his arms, marveling at the graceful, deadly power knitted into the tensed muscles there.
“Then,” she began, then hesitated.
“Anything. Anything else.”
“Kiss me, for now.”
Pressing her arms into the blankets, the vampire bent to press his lips to hers once more. Beneath him, all the luminosity within her fractured under all that was twilight and shadow.
It would do for now.
Embers dancing in a slow-burning fire, they kissed until Garin’s slowly worsening hunger became too much of a distraction for him. Eventually he collapsed beside her, a smoldering heap of rubble and ash.
Garin wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her up against him. There was no protest whatsoever; in fact, his cool skin felt wonderful against her sweat-beaded limbs.
Suddenly, he propped himself halfway onto one arm and stared down at her. She thought he would tell her something she half longed to hear, half feared.
Instead, his brows stitched together in apprehension. “I’ve corrupted you, princess.”
A wry smile formed upon Lilac’s lips. “I did that to myself, a long, long time ago.”
He pulled the blankets up and over the both of them for her sake. “You’re impossible, Lilac of Brittany.”
Eyelids leaded with exhaustion, she grinned wildly to herself as the fire before them danced in rhythmic approval.
Never in a million years did she think lending herself wholly and completely to the dark would feel quite like this.
21
A frantic whisper tickled Lilac’s ear, impeding her much-needed slumber. Two hands gripped her shoulders, jostling her awake. “Lilac. Lilac.”
Garin shifted beside her, his pants and shoes already on. He pressed a bundle of now-dry dresses and undergarments to her chest, then shimmied into his black tunic.
She groaned into the crook of her arm and shielded her eyes from the firelight. “What time is it?”
“Dusk hasn’t fallen yet, though the sun is setting.”
Brushing him away, she cradled her bundle of clothes and curled her toes up, further into the warmth of the sheets. “And? What of it? We’ll wait an hour more for dark.”
“No,” Garin fumed. “I’ve been trying to tell you. A guard is here. A castle sentry, it sounds like. One of your father’s.”
As his words registered, sickening wakefulness gripped her. Eyes bulging, she stifled a gasp and tripped over herself leaping out of bed. The clothes padded her fall, and she looked up at a scowling Garin from her hands and knees.
“Have they found us? Sable and Jean, they must’ve realized who we are—”
Garin shushed her. “No, I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.” He cocked his head to listen. “He just arrived, and it seems he’s here for town rounds. This would be just our luck.”
Lilac strained her own ears but heard nothing. She scrambled to her feet and tiptoed to the door, pressing her ear against it. The conversation was audible, but much too muffled to make out. “How many?” she mouthed.
But he was staring at her then. Blushing, she belatedly realized there wasn’t a speck of clothing on her body. Hastily, she shifted to show Garin her side instead—though she wasn’t sure why, since he’d seen it all the night before.
Garin rolled his eyes at her bashfulness. “Only one, from the sound of it. Now, would you get dressed?” He slipped the baldric belt over his shoulder, then removed her dagger from it and turned to place it into the slip of her own belt hanging on the chair.
With his back to her, Lilac leapt back to her clothes and rifled through them, extracting and donning undergarments before pulling on the white-and-red shift. Despite the fear thrumming through her veins, she smiled. It was the dress she’d originally left the castle in.
She’d return in the same shift, though a changed woman.
After gathering the rest of her things into her sack a
nd sliding it onto her shoulders, she fastened her belt onto her waist. Garin watched her with a mixture of adoration and annoyance, as if he’d feared she was being too boisterous.
“May I?” she mouthed, swinging a hand toward the door.
“If you absolutely must.”
As she passed him, he snaked an arm around the small of her waist. “If you reveal our whereabouts prematurely and the guard discovers us, I’ll have no choice but to kill them all.”
The warning murmured against her temple made her shudder, but his words rang true.
“I won’t,” she whispered hazily as he pressed his nose into her hair.
The vampire grinned before releasing her. “It’s my duty to protect the precious cargo. I wouldn’t test it.”
Careful not to make a sound, Lilac twisted the knob and left the door ajar, just enough to hear. Voices floated up from below.
“—put the kettle on?” Jeanare was asking. His voice was strained, as if spoken through a taught smile.
Sable, on the other hand, sounded far less determined to make their guest feel welcome. “Well I don’t think the gentleman plans on making himself at home, dear. Do you, sir?” The first two words to her question were harder.
A new, gruffer voice grunted condescendingly. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Suit yourself,” Jeanare replied lightly. “And if not, I could do for some tea myself.”
Lilac couldn’t help but grin. She imagined Sable’s imperturbable husband jostling in the kitchen while Sable leered them both down.
Heavy footsteps plodded below, breaking Lilac’s levity and freezing her. The steps passed beneath them as the guard moved to the gathering room or kitchen; she wasn’t sure which was directly below the attic bedroom.
“As you know, we’ve been scouring the towns and surrounding farmland since the princess was discovered missing,” continued the guard. “She was last spotted with a vampire.”
“A vampire?” Jeanare’s voice cracked. “We haven’t seen them in these parts for a good five years or so.”
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