When he drew back from her, he studied her face. Her cheeks were pinkened. He hadn't hurt her.
He'd bitten her. He'd taken her blood. And it had felt like it was supposed to happen. He'd heard her moaning. She'd taken pleasure from his bite. I didn't hurt her -
She burst into tears. With her bottom lip trembling, her eyes glittering, she whispered, "How could you, Conrad?" She raised her hand to slap him - the closest to fury he'd ever seen her.
37
"What is wrong with me?" At the folly yet again. All the night creatures around him were silent, as if they sensed his threat. "Why can't I be right?" he roared to the night.
Néomi hadn't been physically hurt, but she'd been inconsolable. "You have no idea what you've done!" she'd cried. The hand poised to strike him had faltered. She'd closed it to a fist before lowering it, without giving him the hit he'd deserved.
As her gaze had flickered over his face, the expressions he'd grown used to seeing had been absent. There'd been none of her looks of pride in him, or glances brimming with desire.
She'd appeared betrayed.
For an hour he retraced his habitual path along the water's edge. He scarcely registered it when the skies opened up and poured. Earlier when he'd left the room, he thought he'd heard her beginning to cry harder. To cry over him.
It made his chest feel hollow, and his new heartbeats pained him. Hell, could death feel worse than he did now?
The only thing that heartened was that she hadn't removed the ring. They'd both glanced at it and then met eyes. He'd felt sure she'd throw it in his face.
But she hadn't rejected his claim on her. Not yet.
A sound behind him. At first he thought she'd followed him out into the rain, and he twisted around, words rising from his tongue. I'm in love with you. I will do better. I won't hurt you again -
Eight swordsmen greeted him, weapons drawn, Tarut among them. There weren't many males that Conrad had to tilt his head to meet their eyes, but this was one of them.
Goddamn it, how could Conrad have been so careless? His senses had never failed him before. The demon could have walked up right behind him and sliced off his head, before Conrad would even have known.
"Will you trace, Wroth?" Tarut said, raising his voice over the rain. "Or fight?"
"Finally ready to die?"
One last battle, then. If Conrad was defeated, then maybe it would for the best. When Néomi left him, the memories would take over once more, and he'd be lost anyway.
Or if he won... She hadn't taken off his ring. If he won, he wouldn't let her leave him.
Let fate decide my future.
There were eight swordsmen against him, and he was weaponless. But Conrad would be fighting for her - because he'd vowed if he killed Tarut and rid himself of the mark, then she'd become his wife.
Things became simple. Kill eight; keep her forever.
Conrad's fangs sharpened. He ran his tongue along one, the blood like a hit of adrenaline. Obstacles stood between him and what he wanted. He sneered at the demons. They had no idea what they'd stumbled into. Eliminate the obstacles.
He charged the closest one. In a flash, Conrad's hand shot out, ripping the demon's throat from its neck. Blood spurt. In his mind, these beings kept him from Néomi. A surge of fury coursed through him. They were a threat to her very life.
Conrad reached the next one, grabbing it by the horns, twisting the head until vertebrae cracked. His fingers bit into the demon's thick skin, ripping the beast apart with his hands.
They'd dared bring death to his and Néomi's home... .
Rage erupted in him - never had Conrad felt its equal. And soon... he succumbed to the frenzy, doing what he did best.
As Néomi peered into the mirror at the two pinpoints of blood on her neck, she shivered all over again.
The bite that had given her such pleasure also spelled her doom. She'd never felt more connected to a living person, and once it was over, never more betrayed.
Now she felt only regret. Her anger with Conrad had been akin to chastening a beast of prey for hunting. He was a vampire; he'd bitten her. She knew he hadn't made a conscious decision to do it. He'd appeared confounded, appalled with himself as he'd grated, "I'm supposed to protect you from men like me."
She gazed down at the breathtaking ring he'd bought for her, but she couldn't bring herself to remove it. He'd told her to take it off if she truly didn't want to marry him.
But she truly did.
He wanted to put a claim of some kind on her and her future. She felt the same need for him.
Yet she'd already sensed that she'd be leaving soon. She didn't know where she was going, just knew it would be without Conrad.
Oh, who was she fooling? Leaving? She wasn't going on a trip. She was about to die. And she was afraid.
She drew away from the mirror to wait for his return. He'd probably gone to the folly again. She wished he would come back - the wind had begun churning, pelting rain against the windows.
Suddenly a deafening roar resounded over the property. "Conrad!" Oh, God, would he try to harm himself? She'd been so hard on him!
When she heard him yell in pain, she was on her feet in an instant, cinching her robe as she hastened for the door. Dashing headlong into the blustery night, she squinted against the rain, tracking the sounds to a clearing near the folly.
She drew up short at the sight of three mangled bodies on the ground. Five other beings, all tall and brawny, circled Conrad. His lips were drawn back from his fangs, baring them in his rage. Was he motioning for his opponents to come closer?
In a flash of lightning, she made out the black symbols on their bared backs. The Kapsliga.
They took turns lunging forward with their swords raised. Every time they lashed out, the circle would tighten, giving Conrad less space to maneuver. Why didn't he trace away?