Refugee (The Captive #3)(3)
That was if their plan succeeded. If they could somehow convince these possibly half crazed, half starved aristocratic vamps to aide them in their quest. She hoped they weren’t crazed, hoped that a hundred years in this land of sweltering heat hadn’t fried their brains. More so, she hoped like hell that the four of them weren’t walking right into a death trap.
She didn’t mean to do it, but without thinking her head rose slowly to Braith. She needed to see him, needed the reassurance of his presence. Even though his eyes were shaded by his dark glasses, she knew the moment when they latched onto hers. Her heart lurched; she could barely breathe beneath the weight of that stare. He was magnificent, and he was hers.
She knew he wanted to tell her to look away, to look down. She saw it in the tight pinch of his mouth, in the muscle that jumped in his cheek. He remained silent though, his eyes locked onto hers and for a single moment it was just the two of them. His hand stroked her arm as he pulled her a step closer.
“We’re almost there,” he murmured so quietly that she barely heard him. “Please Aria, look down.”
Ashby quirked an eyebrow but refrained from saying anything. It was strange to hear the prince say please to anyone, let alone her, a human, a blood slave, a rebel. She was still surprised to hear him call her Aria, as he had always used her full name, but being around people that didn’t use it had finally started to rub off on him.
She sighed and reluctantly did as he asked. The tension in his body notched up a level; she knew he was struggling not to grab hold of her and run out of this town. To run would only attract more attention though, and possibly entice the thrill of the hunt. And there would be no more running, not anymore.
Aria shifted uncomfortably. She hated the coarse wool and dull color of the servant’s class cloak she wore; she despised even more what it represented. She had resented the golden chain that bound a blood slave to their master but this cloak was worse. At least the chain had marked her as a fighter, someone not to be trusted, someone that had rebelled and been made to pay for that rebellion. As far as she was concerned, the cloak signified a coward and a traitor that had bowed to the vampire race.
More legs gathered by the side of the road and whispers began to spread through the crowd. These outer vamps weren’t used to strangers and they were wary and distrustful of them. Though they had not encountered any problems so far, Aria doubted they would be so lucky all the time. The vampire’s that lived here were hungry, and so were the people. They were poor, and strangers offered them a new opportunity for fresh blood, perhaps even money. If Braith didn’t emanate such an aura of power and dominance, she was sure they would have been jumped before this town, even with Ashby at their side.
The whispers grew louder; they grated against her skin as harshly as the coarse cloth covering her head. Dust drifted up around them, it stuck in her nose and throat. It was cloying, awful. The town smelled of blood, body odor and death. The woods weren’t like this. Though they held the smell of decay, it was the earthy decay of leaves and dirt. Fresh air was what she required, freedom, and Braith.
Braith suddenly grasped hold of her hood and jerked it forward. Aria had been so entrenched in her thoughts that she hadn’t realized it had slipped back to reveal her hairline, and some of her features. It wasn’t that anyone would recognize her, they were far more likely to recognize him, but Braith was adamant that she stay as covered as possible.
He thought her blood was too big of a lure, Aria felt it was only a lure to him, but she wasn’t going to argue just in case he happened to be right. She wasn’t in the mood to be a snack for a pack of blood thirsty vampires, none of them were. She moved to adjust the hood but he grasped hold of the hand exposed by the movement and pulled it smoothly down to her side. “Remain covered Aria.”
This time it wasn’t the touch of him that caused her heart to leap and her chest to constrict, but the tone in his voice. She was frightened by what might be unleashed if she looked up. A tremor worked through her. Braith was strong and powerful, but the circumstances of the past two weeks had forced him to feed from animals instead of her. And though animals sustained him, human blood was better, and her blood strengthened him even more. She had a strange effect on him, she empowered him in ways that neither of them had ever imagined possible.
And now, when he needed that strength most, he was being denied it. And they may all be about to pay for that if the increasing crush of bodies around them was any indication. “Are you willing to sell one?” a loud voice inquired.
Braith raised his arm, pushing it against her chest as he halted her beside him. It went against everything she was, but somehow she managed to keep her head bent and her appearance demure. William took two more steps forward before Ashby, in a far less graceful manner than Braith, jerked him to a stop by the collar of his robe. Though Ashby remained expressionless, his bright green eyes twinkled with amusement as William grunted slightly. The two of them had gotten along well enough, but they tended to pick at each other, sometimes to the point that Aria became exasperated with their delight in tormenting each other. William bristled against the highhanded treatment, but thankfully her hot-tempered twin managed to keep his calm.
There was a moment of silence as the town became hushed in expectancy of Braith’s answer. He didn’t know these lands, didn’t know the people or the etiquette that prevailed here. In their land servants were not sold, they were not owned and traded like the blood slaves. That may not be the case here.