Page 16

Then the metal door opened into darkness.

5

STELLAN

Edith’s granddaughter pointed a torch at my face.

I shut my eyes against the beam. Harrowmere had dragged every chain tight when her blood hit the seal, leaving me on one knee behind the inner gate. Not the entrance I would’ve chosen.

The light moved down to my chest, my wrists and the iron fixed to the wall behind me.

“You’re not a dog,” she said.

Her voice was steady. Her pulse wasn’t.

“I’ve been called worse.”

Her blood scented the cold air, fresh and warm, and my fangs were already down. I turned my face away before the torch found them.

“Cover your hand.”

She didn’t move farther into the room. “Start with your name.”

“Cover the cut first. Unless you want to find out how strong these chains are.”

The threat sounded worse than I meant it to. Hunger stripped the manners from most things.

Cloth rustled. When I looked back, she had wrapped a white handkerchief around her palm and tightened it with her teeth. The torch stayed aimed at me throughout.

Long red hair had escaped whatever had once held it back. It fell over the shoulders of a dark coat, bright against the black stone around her. Her green eyes moved over the chamber without settling anywhere for long. Gate. Chains. Throne. Door. She was checking exits before she checked me.

Good.

“Stellan Varen,” I said. “I’m the reason you need to stay on that side of the gate.”

She studied the bars between us. “Are you the reason my grandmother hid an underground court under her house?”

“No. I’m the man someone chained inside it.”

The torch rose to my face again. I let her see the fangs this time.

She went very still.

Fear reached me through the court’s new connection, followed by disbelief, anger and a flicker of interest. The bond was weak, but it was already sharing too much.

“Vampire?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Her gaze travelled over my bare shoulders and the tattoos covering my arms. Captivity had taken weight from me, but not enough muscle to make me harmless. The look warmed before she dragged it back to my face.

That part wasn’t fear.

My body noticed. A century without sex apparently hadn’t improved its judgement.

She adjusted her grip on the torch. “Are you surprised I’m not screaming? The house turned on its own kettle and opened a cupboard for me. I’m running out of surprise.”

A laugh caught in my dry throat. It hurt, but I didn’t mind the sound. “Did it offer tea?”