Page 44 of Nocturn

“Yes, my lord,” I muttered and bent over the scripture. I could barely believe it. He was leaving me here? Alone?

Let me think.

I had reached the section pertaining to redbloods. The section described the creation of redbloods, created before bluebloods, a trial humanity, in some sense. As riveting as the reading was, the air seemed to leave the room with his absence.

I hissed a breath out through my clenched teeth.

Just one more moment . . .

I peeked over the lip of the desk. He’s truly gone!

No, I must think. I carefully set my quill down. I had found nothing of note on his shelves, but the focus he applied to whatever he toiled over seemed important.

Any knowledge was good knowledge. The journal he had been scrawling in sat slightly parted by a quill holding it open. With one peek at the door, I reached for the page and slowly lifted it.

A drawing? I pulled away.

I must be mistaken. Exhaling shakily, I looked at the page again.

As I had thought.

I stared at an image . . . of me. Thin, perfect lines created a realistic portrait. My brows furrowed in concentration as I stared down at something unseen off the page; instead of a quill in my hand, the stem led to a fleurlet.

The detail was stunning.

This was not the skill of some soulless monster. The heart in each curve was breathtaking.

Footsteps approached, and I pulled back, plucking up the quill and beginning to scribble the next phrase I had garnered from the scripture, my mind refusing to calm.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jealousy

As I woke, my cheek rested against softness. I nestled against the comfort I lay upon, which was a stark difference to each other time I had woken. I sluggishly blinked, hugging the thick fur. A smile tipped the corner of my lips. Lord Draven must have given it to me after I had fallen into my slumber.

I could not control my smile or the way my thoughts immediately turned to the portrait drawn so carefully it seemed to have been caught in motion.

Perhaps there was kindness in Lord Draven⁠—

A moan ripped through the softness bubbling in my belly, like a blade slicing. The sound was familiar.

I clenched my hands. Lord Draven was feeding on someone.

The woman let out a soft whimper.

My stomach flipped over.

Would I rise and find him taking her the way the man had taken the woman at the brothel?

A sensation swelled in me. Odd and suffocating. It had been so long since I felt anything akin to it. The last I had felt anything like this was as a child, watching Miriam receive love from her parents.

Another moan wrenched me from my thoughts.

I could not simply listen any longer. I pushed up and peeked over the edge of the bed. He faced me as his mouth remained fastened to her neck. I ducked.

Coward.

I slowly pushed up, clenching my fingers into the fur beneath me.