Page 14 of Dhampira

“No one is chasing us,” I said.

He pulled the horse to a halt. The animal tossed its head, its sides heaving. The road was so narrow, the buildings on either side nearly touched my captor’s shoulders.

He yanked off one of his gloves and held his hand before me. At first, nothing happened. Then slowly his skin reddened. A second later, blisters rippled across his knuckles, and the stench of burned flesh hit my nose. Smoke curled from the back of his hand. Abruptly, a tiny flame flared to life.

I jumped, a scream catching in my throat.

He blew out the fire, stuffed his hand back in his glove, and kneed the horse to a gallop. His breath coasted over my ear. “The sun is chasing me.”

My mother’s warning tumbled through my head. Your ability to tolerate the sun is a unique power, and the vampires value power above everything. If you cross the Feyline, they’ll find you and use your gift to their benefit.

Now a vampire had found me. He’d bought me. I wasn’t chained to a post in a warehouse full of nobles, but I was a prisoner all the same. Jumping from the horse wasn’t an option. Even if I managed to land without breaking anything, I had no money or clothing. With the silver sapping my strength and the horse’s bruising gallop rattling my bones, all I could do was grit my teeth and bide my time.

On the other hand, my head was level with the vampire’s chin. If I hit him hard enough, I could knock him from the saddle and take his horse. It was, admittedly, a stupid plan with a low chance of success. But it wasn’t like I had an array of options to choose from.

“I won’t harm you,” the vampire said, his breath teasing my ear again. “So you can stop plotting to kill me.”

Alarm—and a curious tingle in my arms—made me sit up straighter. “Can you read minds?”

“No, but I saw the way you looked at that peddler and his lackey. When a woman has murder in her eyes, mind reading is unnecessary.” He gripped me more tightly and spurred the horse into a sprint.

The next time we slowed, Sausberg was a memory and the sun flirted with the horizon.

The vampire’s chest expanded in a sigh against my back as he guided the horse into an ancient-looking forest. Trees towered above us, their trunks as big around as Mama’s and my cottage in Derryton. Wood creaked. Moss covered the ground, the spongy growth so thick and vivid it looked like a giant had flung a green carpet over the soil. Leaves stirred as the horse picked its way deeper into the trees. Although the sun still dappled the ground in places, the forest was cast in heavy shadow.

And the air was…different. Thicker somehow. Twinkling lights danced in my peripheral vision. When I turned my head, they disappeared.

Awareness prickled down my spine. “What is this place?” I asked, my head on a swivel as I peered between the trees.

The vampire’s voice rumbled against my back. “What do your senses tell you?”

My throat went dry. “We crossed the Feyline.” Villagers from Derryton who strayed too close to the border claimed proximity to Nocta filled them with dread. My mother always said I’d know if I approached it. But maybe the vampire’s horse had carried us too swiftly over the line for the change to register.

The vampire stopped in a clearing and dismounted. One hand on the horse’s reins, he tugged his cowl off his head and looked up at me. “Yes and no. This forest lies between Ghedda and Nocta. It has many names, but most people these days call it the Wendlewood. The magic is thin here. Spending the night on the border might help you adjust.” He turned his attention to the horse, and his lips curved as he pulled off his gloves and patted the beast’s neck. “And Maddox deserves a rest.” His voice dipped into the croon men used on dogs, babies, and third rounds of ale. “Don’t you, boy? Who’s a good horse?”

It was rude to stare, but I couldn’t help it. And not just because of his obvious affection for his mount. I’d thought the vampire handsome in Sausberg. But his smile transformed his face into something beyond that descriptor. Long, reddish lashes swept his cheeks as he continued petting his horse. Under the forest’s canopy, his hair was a deep auburn. The tousled waves swept back from a broad forehead. A darker shade shadowed his firm jaw. Straight, white teeth gleamed between well-formed lips. Despite his trouble with sunlight, tiny golden freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose.

I tore my gaze from him. What was I doing, admiring his looks? He claimed he wouldn’t hurt me, but I had no reason to trust him, let alone catalog his features like the village girls who fawned over Duncan Bagley’s dimples. Mama would be horrified.

The thought of my mother spurred me to action, and I slid from the horse, grimacing when my inner thighs protested the hours of the saddle’s leather rubbing against my bare skin. Moss squished around my toes as I stumbled back and tugged my nightgown into place. The leather under my collar stuck to my neck. I touched a tentative finger to one of my manacles. Pain shot up my arm, and I jerked my hand away with a curse.

“I wouldn’t touch those,” the vampire said, giving me a mild look over the horse’s back.

I clenched my jaw as I held his stare.

He unsaddled his horse with brisk, efficient movements. When the beast wandered a distance away and began nosing at the moss, the vampire knelt and rummaged in one of the saddlebags. His cloak flared around him. The tip of his scabbard poked out from under the dark fabric. The hand he’d held in the sun was unblemished, the skin whole and healthy.

“If you need to relieve yourself, you can go behind the bushes,” he said.

It took me a moment to realize he addressed me. Heat flooded my cheeks. “I’m fine, thanks.” I folded my arms over my chest. “What I need is to return to Ghedda. My mother is there. She could be in danger.”

“You can’t return,” he said, his head angled away as he set a waterskin on the ground. “Ghedda is closed to you now that the hunters know of your existence.”

“Hunters?”

He placed a shiny dagger on the moss, followed by a chunk of cloudy white rock. “Monster hunters.” He lifted his head, his silver eyes bright under the shadows cast by the trees. “At least that’s what they call themselves. Cyprio Kormaz and his far less intelligent associate, Fark, are part of a network that captures Noctans who attempt to straddle the line between the two realms. It’s a lucrative business. Kormaz and his ilk won’t stop looking for you. Nobles line up to purchase pets. The more unique, the better.”

Disgust curled through me. “It seems stupid to buy someone who can’t wait to rip out your throat. Aren’t they afraid their pets will turn on them?”