Page 33 of Nocturn

“Where is the meek mortal?”

I had to take care. Measure my words and reactions.

This is why I perfected being a lady’s maid. I could blend into the background without speaking.

I flattened my lips. “I-I apologize, Lord Draven.”

He studied me as I rubbed my palms along the front of my dress.

“Come around the desk.”

The fact that he did not drag me quickened my pace. I did not want to give him an excuse.

He flipped the brittle page. “Read.”

I leaned closer, bracing my palm on the corner of his desk. The symbols swirled on the yellowed page. One name flickered across.

“Volcan?” I straightened. “What is that?”

His nostrils flared with his inhale.

The opposite of what I expected splashed across his face. He was angry I had been able to read it.

He raked his hand through his hair with a frustrated huff. His glare fixed on me.

“You may be more useful than I was anticipating. Perhaps you are able to read this because you will host my bondmate.”

It will never be. I remained silent as his eyes blanked.

“Lord Draven?”

He stood suddenly, visibly disturbed.

“Let’s return to the chamber. We have work to do from this point on.” He strode past me.

I searched the shelves of scrolls and books, scanning for anything that would fit the description Renata and Liadan gave. His steps continued to retreat, and I whirled, catching up to him.

“Yes, Lord Draven,” I murmured, keeping my head lowered as I followed behind him. I would be the perfect companion to the Warlord, and in doing so, I would find a way into the Archives.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Mesmerized

Ilay on my appointed spot beside his bed with my head on my palm, too cold to fall into slumber. After he clasped a fresh chain to my collar, he dropped onto the bed. He was asleep within moments.

If not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, he would have been a corpse.

I rolled onto my back, the chain clanging against my collar.

I can read Larien.

Was he right and it was because I would host the bondmate?

After leaving the library, a dull throb had settled at my temples, and it was just now fading. I had no doubt reading the Saint’s language had caused the ailment.

Lord Draven had reacted so viscerally. Anything that wrenched some sort of emotion from him that was not distaste was good for me.

Now he needed me.