Moonlight Prince (Vampire Girl #4)(3)

"She is very dear to you," Tavian remarks as we walk the gardens in fur cloaks.

"Yes," I say, thinking of Arianna. "She is like a sister. A sister I love."

He nods, not saying any more.

When night falls, he escorts me to a shack at the outskirts of the city—a place I thought abandoned. He seems to have made a home here. Thick rugs cover the floor and the fireplace is stocked with wood. He sets it burning, and we cuddle by the flames, warming each other.

I do not know how long we stay like this. Together. Holding each other.

But at some point, Tavian pulls away. "It is time I slept." He walks over to the corner, a cold, damp place. He grabs something there and tosses it at my feet. A sword.

"What is this?" I ask, not touching the blade.

"You may need it," he says.

"Why?"

He says nothing, laying down his fur robe and making a bed for himself.

"I've seen you sleep before," I say. "When we traveled."

"Not all nights are equal." He sounds tired, beaten. He lies down on the furs and closes his eyes. "Goodnight, Princess."

"Goodnight…"

He says no more.

Hours pass. Nothing. Nothing but a man sleeping peacefully. I fetch more wood for the fire. Keep it burning to stay warm.

It is sometime deep in the night, sometime when the moons are high, that Tavian begins to tremble. It starts with a murmur, a whisper I do not understand. He mumbles, louder, then louder, in a language I do not know. His hands start to shake at his words. His head jerks back and forth. He seems to be calling. Calling to someone. Yelling. Yelling a warning.

It is then the wind begins to stir. It howls around me though all windows are shut. It chills me despite the burning fire. The lights begin to dim. A shadow falls over the room.

I have seen this before. When Tavian threatened Metsi. When Tavian fought the raiders.

But now it happens as he sleeps.

He shakes and spasms, crying out. Screaming.

Thunder crashes.

But I see no lightning. No storm outside.

Thunder again. The tempest is here. In this room. The storm swirls around him.

A flash of light.

Another.

They blind me.

But in between the flashes, I catch glimpses.

Tavian.

Different.

His skin darker.

Darker.

Black.

White stripes upon his body.

His mouth twists unnaturally, opening, and he roars, tearing the air with his voice.

His teeth are far too long, far too sharp.

He is more beast than man now.

What is happening?

Riku screeches in terror, quivering on my shoulder.

Tavian roars again, and it is a sound of agony, such terrible agony.

I rush forward, wanting to shake him, to wake him, to make it stop.

But something stops me. A feeling. A feeling that this must pass on its own.

I hold back. Though every part of me wishes to help. I hold back.

Another flash.

And the fire goes out. Darkness envelops the room. Darkness and silence. A silence so strong it chills.

And then I hear it. Feel it.

His breath against my skin. The heavy breath of a beast.

He is in front of me.

I cannot see him. But I know he is there.

A predator before his prey.

I look for the sword, but can see nothing in the darkness. I search with my hands, but find nothing.

The breath is still upon me. Hot. Loud.

Something growls in the darkness.

My fingers find purchase. The sword. I hold it up.

Don't make me do this. Don't make me do this.

Something lunges. Lunges for my throat.

I drive the sword forward.

And as quickly as the darkness came, it withdraws.

The flames return, flickering.

And before me, I see Tavian covered in sweat, shaking on the floor, bleeding from his shoulder.

"No," I fall to my knees, pulling him to me, holding me tight. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He lets his head fall back, fall back so we are eye to eye. And I see it is him again, the real him. "I told you, Princess," he says, his voice a raspy whisper. "I told you I must go."

My hands shake. My eyes fill with tears. I tear away a piece of my gown and wrap it around his bleeding shoulder. The wound is not deep, thank the Spirits. "What happened?" I ask as I work, my voice trembling.

"You remember what I told you? How I summoned the Darkness? How I watched it kill my family? There is something else." He clenches his jaw, every word a clear effort. "The Darkness spared those who performed the ritual from death. But it did not spare us entirely. A curse it placed upon us. A curse…"

He reaches for something. The table. Water. He must want water. I rush, grabbing a cup and putting it to his lips. He drinks.

I caress his hair softly, waiting. When he is done, I take back the cup. "What is your curse?" I ask.

"I cannot forget," he says. "I cannot forget anything. The Darkness consuming my wife. The screams of my children as they died. I remember all of it. Every single detail. Every single detail I have ever felt."

"What do you mean?" I ask, frowning, feeling his pain.

He clears his throat, raising his voice. "Do you remember the last time you touched hot iron? The last time you burned your hand? Do you remember how it truly felt? The pain?"