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That name alone inspires me creative ways to deal with him. My claws elongate, ready for the kill.
Rhianelle tugs me again.
The savage beasts in me start a goddamn conversation in my head over that soothing touch.
He doesn’t deserve a quick end.
This one needs to suffer.
We’ll rally all the hounds of hell and the devil himself to torture him.
I won’t be satisfied until I shred him to fucking pieces.
Not here.
Not in front of her.We’ll get him later.
Yes, I agree with them. I want to pull his teeth one by one, gauge his eyes, rip his spinal column from his body. I certainly can’t do any of that right now.
The assassin scrambles to his knees and runs for his life. A deadly calm settles over me as I watch him scarper into the trees.
The dark beasts are right.
Retribution will come. I don’t let the anger consume me and turn to my girl.
I should tend to her first. My gaze slides to the slash mark on her palm.
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.” The gnome and his boar unhelpfully panic around her.
“It’s not deep,” she says to calm them down.
“Let me have a look,” I say, gently taking her wrist. The girl barely winces in pain when I open up her palm to inspect the damage.
Once again, I have to suppress the urge to hunt the bastard who did this to her.
“I can instantly close this wound with a bite,” I offer the option to her.
It’s how I will drip my venom into her system. The Rhunhraefn is a fucked-up curse but I’ll always be grateful for this one small gift.
A touch of nerve surfaces in her eyes. “Will it hurt?”
I’m glad little fawn asks.
“At first,” I admit. Her injury is superficial enough, it will need less than a drop of the venom. More can cause tingling, or worse, a burning pain at the bite site.
Rhianelle considers it for a moment. She doesn’t have a good experience with my bite after that incident in the tent. I appreciate that she is careful and aware of what I am. Most of the time it feels like she has forgotten I’m a Strigon.
After a long thought, she nods her head in silent agreement.
I don’t bother asking her if she’s ready. It’s better to finish this quickly. She’s losing more blood by the second. I drive my teeth into her wrist, ripping her skin.
A sharp gasp leaves her throat and she instinctively pulls away. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her firmly against me. My eyes shutter and I revel in the feel of her blood filling my mouth.
Fuck me.
My heart thrums at the first taste. I’ve never had something so pure, so divine. Then again, forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest. As I drink the rich essence of hers, images flow through my mind, Nel’s memories.
Every little happy feeling she gets when she has a book in her hand, her sparks of joy at the sight of food, her frustrated attempts to bait the cats in court, her delight in her friend’s company, and her plans for her bakery.
