In the Service of the King (Vampire Warrior Kings #1)(5)
He marched to the large cabinet in the corner and wrenched open the doors. The left one banged against the wall and ricocheted back at him. He yanked out a drawer and drew a heavy black eye mask from among the items displayed within. He had to hide those eyes.
He stalked across the room and stopped just behind Shayla’s now-trembling form. Remarkably, he noted in passing admiration, it was the first fear she’d demonstrated since he’d walked into the room….
He shook his head. “Rise, Proffered.”
Shayla complied immediately, but was as confused by his suddenly harsh tone as by him calling her by her title rather than her name. She’d been warned he might do so, but he’d been using her name so freely just moments before.
Not only that, but his declaration—you have been touched by magic—had been so affectionate and earnest it filled her heart with the acceptance and appreciation of her appearance she hadn’t always found growing up. Kids had teased her about her “mutant eyes,” and it wasn’t until adulthood that she’d come to prize their uniqueness and ignore the mean comments and staring gazes. The admiring tone in his words had fueled the secret hope she harbored that tonight would lead to something more, something meaningful.
Blackness cut off her thoughts. Cool fabric covered her eyes and she swayed at the unexpected loss of her vision. His large hands on her shoulders steadied and inflamed her, and she immediately regretted the loss of their heat when he drew them away.
“Hold out your left arm.” His voice held none of the warmth of before, none of the soothing welcoming tone that had calmed and reassured her earlier.
She followed the command, reining in her rising disappointment as she did so. How stupid of her to read anything into his kindness. She’d been warned what would occur this night—and what wouldn’t. And yet, she’d allowed her imagination to run away with her, and she’d formed impossible expectations.
“Come.” Kael supported her arm and led her across the room. She resisted gripping onto his wrist, despite the instincts that implored her otherwise, and soon she was following his command to sit.
The chair was hard and forced her into the straightest posture. Kael arranged her arm on the wide downward-slanting surface of the armrest. Her wrist and hand hung off the end. Knowing what was coming, Shayla’s heart rate spiked and her breathing became shallow.
Something threaded between her arm and side, and warmth grazed her left breast. She barely restrained a gasp. A stretchy band bit into her bicep over the silk of her robe. None of this was unexpected, though she had thought she would have the use of her eyes to watch him work. She took a deep breath and forced her shoulders to relax.
Focusing on her memory of his appearance helped. God, she’d barely been able to breathe when she’d first laid eyes on him. He was…the most fascinating man she had ever seen. The vibrant deep green of his eyes was surreal. Dim lighting seemed to reflect out of them and, like an animal’s eyes, they glowed and flashed. His amazing mane of bronze hair hung down over his shoulders, and a braid with green, red, blue and clear stones tied back the hair on one side of his head, revealing the incredible angularity of his masculine face. His brow was strong, pronounced, and his cheekbones were high and sharp. His square jaw framed a mouth so full and expressive her own mouth filled with saliva at the thought of getting to taste him. Lust and desire had barreled through her veins, making his mood change all the more disorienting.
No matter. What she wanted wasn’t their purpose. A cold wetness washed over her wrist before being wiped away. What mattered most was what he needed—to maintain his strength in the war against the Soul Eaters. And she was willing to give. It was why she was here.
Kael needed to get this over with. Shayla’s—no, the Proffered’s—presence seemed to be sucking the very air out of the room and, with it, his control. There was just something about her. He needed this to be over and for her to be gone.
That would fix everything.
He rushed through his preparations, not taking the usual time to reassure the Proffered, to ease her fear. He appreciated the sacrifices they made for his well-being, and so his normal practice was to take every precaution to limit their fear, reduce their pain. Now, he did the minimum, drawing solace from her poise and calmness. She didn’t seem to need the same bolstering as some of the other Proffereds. He admired her for that.
Which was the problem in a nutshell.
Kael pulled the wooden stand holding the ceremonial goblet in front of the corner of the Proffered’s chair and positioned it to catch the blood that would flow from her wrist.
“Listen to my voice,” he began.
Normally, he would’ve used his eyes too, the combination of voice and eyes being the most effective at completing the hypnotism, but he just…couldn’t.
“I wish to have your blood. You will not feel pain, and I will make it so you bear no lasting injury. Do not be frightened. I wish you only to feel pleasure in giving me this most sacred of gifts and to know how much I appreciate your offering.” Kael rushed through the words and felt a little odd he couldn’t see his assurances reflected back in her expression.
He removed the blade from its holster.
“Do you give your blood freely, Proffered?” The knife hovered over her wrist.
She didn’t answer, and he glanced from her wrist to her face.