Bound By Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #8)(48)

He grimly forced his thoughts away from his distracting urge to press her against the tree and ease the need that pulsed just below the surface whenever she was near. His life was in enough danger without adding sex with a feral vampire.

Not that he wouldn’t... .

He hissed in frustration, crushing the thought before it could form.

“Another magic-user?” he rasped.

She shrugged. “My guess would be a demon, perhaps even a vampire.”

“A Hunter?”

“I don’t know.” Concern flickered in the indigo eyes. “That’s what troubles me.”

Ariyal tilted back his head to draw in a deep breath, sorting through the various scents that filled the meadow.

A family of sprites that was scurrying out of a nearby cavern and through the cornfields in obvious panic. A pack of hellhounds hunting a deer.

And more distant, the stench of curs as well as the strangely muted scent that was troubling Jaelyn.

All rushing away to leave them alone and isolated in the meadow.

Alone?

His eyes snapped open in surprise.

“Where’s the gargoyle?”

She glanced back at the line of trees, a frown marring her brow.

“He insisted on following the trail of the cur while I returned here.”

Ariyal snorted, not sharing his companion’s regret at Levet’s absence.

“It’s about time he made himself useful.”

“Don’t underestimate him. He has ...” She paused, considering her words, turning back with a faint smile. “Unexpected talents.”

“His talent is to drive a rational man over the edge.”

“No doubt it’s all that testosterone.” Her smile widened as she shifted to place an arm around his waist and tugged his free arm over her shoulders. “It rots the brain.”

Ariyal stiffened as his body reacted to her touch with predictable eagerness, even as his pride violently rebelled at her imitation of a vampire crutch.

It was one thing to offer him sympathy for his injuries.

It was quite another to treat him as if he was a damned invalid.

Not after Morgana le Fey had taken such gruesome delight in tormenting him when he was injured and at his most vulnerable.

“As much as I want to be in your arms, poppet, I hardly think this is the time or the place,” he drawled.

She made a sound of impatience. “We have to find shelter until you can heal.”

He pulled from her grasp, ignoring the weakness that was only growing worse as his injuries continued to bleed.

“ No.”

“No?”

“I’m not going to have you carrying me around like I’m some sort of feeble dew fairy.”

She slapped her hands on her hips. “Because I’m a woman and you’re a big, tough, virile man?”

“Because I will never be at the mercy of anyone. Not again.”

His stark words rang through the meadow, and just for a second Jaelyn’s expression softened with understanding. This female knew precisely how it felt to be helpless and abused.

“Fine.” She gave in without an argument. A rare and wonderful occurrence. “Then what’s your plan?”

Plan? He swallowed his urge to laugh. It was a little late in the day for a plan.

What they needed was a fast means of getting him back to fighting strength.

“I want your blood,” he bluntly admitted.

She took a sharp step backward, her face rigid with shock. “For what?”

He arched a brow. Her outrage seemed a little hypocritical considering she was a damned leech.

“To help me heal.”

“Is this a joke?”

“No.” He lifted his sword, the moonlight dancing over the silver metal. “I can draw power from my blade.”

“How?”

“Our people have many weapons, but our true Sylvermyst blades were forged before the banishment of the Dark Lord,” he slowly admitted.

Her eyes narrowed. “Which means?”

“The metal was smelted in the pits of hell with silver and the heart of a Lamsung demon.”

Her gaze shot to the sword. “Soul stealers,” she muttered.

He nodded. Lamsungs were rare demons who survived by sucking the life from their enemies.

“The blade absorbs the power of my enemies.”

She turned to meet his gaze, her own expression guarded. “And gives you strength.”

“Precisely.”

A short, oddly tense silence settled between them before Jaelyn took another step backward.

“Stay here.”

He reached out to grab her arm. “Where are you going?”

“To get you blood.” She jerked her head toward the woods. “There’s a pack of hellhounds less than a mile away.”

He regarded her in confusion. “I can use yours. I don’t need much.”

She jerked away, licking her lips. Almost as if she was nervous.

“ No.”

“Why not?”

“I ...” There was another lick of her lips. “I can’t.”

No, not can’t.

Won’t.

The vampire had already made it clear she wouldn’t lower herself to feed from a nasty Sylvermyst. Now she was making it equally clear that she wasn’t going to lower herself to offering her precious blood to restore his powers.