A Ride of Peril (A Shade of Vampire #46)(12)

I had a feeling he’d oppose me coming with him on this mission, so I decided to stomp that flame before it turned into a full-blown argument. “Yeah, not the first time or the last,” I shot back. “You’ll need me there, and you know it.”

He said nothing for a while, and I didn’t challenge him further. I’d made my point. Persistence would have dismantled my stance, making it seem like I was trying to convince him to let me come along instead of stating it as a fact.

I could feel his gaze drilling into the back of my head, but I didn’t look at him. I focused my attention on another shelf stacked with leather-bound books.

“Why are all your books leather-bound, Draven?” I asked sarcastically, changing the subject before he could ponder it too long. “Do you not realize how difficult it’s making this task of finding a specific leather-bound book if they all look the same? Hm?”

“Unfortunately, I was not responsible for the printing and binding process,” he replied, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Of course you’re not responsible,” I sighed, continuing the ruse and flipping through another book, this one a brief history of Lamias.

I’ll read this one later. I put it back and moved on to another shelf.

Draven changed the subject. “We need to get Sverik out of that dungeon in one piece, alive and motivated to cooperate with us. It’s not just his intel that I’m after. He’s known well enough in these lands to rally the few remaining incubi and succubi who have yet to swear fealty to Azazel. He’s essential to our cause, especially now with the Red Tribe decimated to a bare dozen.”

I sighed, remembering the harrowing scene we’d witnessed the day before. A thought occurred to me, given that Sverik’s father was still a traitor to Eritopia.

“Are you sure Sverik can be trusted, since Arid is under Azazel’s command now?” I asked.

“I don’t trust him at all, but he’s a risk we have to take, given how little support we’ve managed to gather so far from the remaining peoples of Eritopia. If we’re to make any progress against Azazel, we must take a leap of faith,” he said, then turned to look at me. “After all, I’m already risking everything by opening my soul to you, Serena.”

I stilled, and my gaze found his. For a moment, I lost myself in his gray eyes, feeling the absence of the wall between us and relieved to be able to sense him entirely. Warmth emanated from him in ribbons of gold that twined around my heart.

“I’ve never allowed myself to get so close to anyone,” he added. “And mind you, we’re in the middle of a war. I’m no longer merely taking risks with you; I’m downright reckless.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say. All I wanted was for him to not push me away again. I wasn’t sure I’d make it without him, and it scared the hell out of me. Yet I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Though I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He smiled, and my heart fluttered.

I nodded, delighted by how our minds worked in perfect unison, and resumed my search. I flipped through another book and found three graphite portraits on loose pieces of paper. They all depicted the same woman, a beautiful creature with familiar features. The cupid’s bow mouth, the light-colored hair flowing loosely over one shoulder, the slim nose and soft lines—I’d seen her before, perhaps, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Draven, who is this?” I showed him one of the portraits.

His expression changed, a shadow passing over his face as he recognized the figure. His brow furrowed as he looked up at me.

“My mother, Genevieve,” he replied.

I was surprised, but, a few seconds later, it began to make sense. I looked at the drawing, then at Draven, then back at her. I noticed the similarities. The softness in his cheekbone lines, the shape of his lips, even a little around the eyes. Yes, she was definitely his mother. I admired her beautiful face and couldn’t help but wonder about her. There was something there in her eyes, a certain gravitas that the artist had captured perfectly, a flicker I’d noticed in Draven when he spoke about Azazel and the Druids.

He noticed my curiosity and came up to me, taking one of the portraits in his hand to get a better look. I noticed affection lighting his face up, and I instantly fought back the urge to hold him. I could only imagine what growing up without her must have been like for him.

“She was a Druid of great skill, a mistress of natural sciences,” Draven said, his voice low. “She died giving birth to me. It was a great loss to Eritopia and the beginning of the end, in a way.”

I could feel his pain freely pouring into me. Whether it was my sentry nature or just perception, it didn’t matter. I placed my hand on his chest, and looked up at him, the question floating in my mind. He understood somehow and nodded slowly. With deep breaths I syphoned the grief, a deep shade of ice blue. Sharing his feelings felt more intimate than anything else that had happened between us.

“Tell me more.” I beckoned him to open up, so I could syphon more and ease his suffering as best I could.

“She was one of the leaders of our kind. She controlled one of the richest parts of Eritopia, a vast land ripe with valuable resources, one of twenty planets, or kingdoms, as they were officially referred to. Most of her kingdom’s income came from trade, and her revolutionary advances in science made production processes easier and more cost-effective. Azazel ruled over another region which, funnily enough, subsisted mostly from the imports from my mother’s land. Her influence reached across all of Eritopia’s planets, and she held great power over Azazel at the time. He didn’t dare make a move against her or anyone else, for that matter, since she supplied all of Eritopia with precious metals and ore, not to mention grains and other goods.”