Page 142 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Eight…

Inhale. Everything would be easier if she could hate him as she claimed—if she could harden her heart to forget all they had done together. To forget all he had done for her.

When Ehrun had first come for her, he told her the tale of a massacre. In the beginning, she had thought it to be a dhemon attack on a vampire village. Then he described his wife. His newborn daughter. He carved each detail into her back, then smeared it with salt to make his story permanent in her skin.

Seven…

She covered her mouth to dampen the next shaking sob. Her body quaked with the force of it as her mind wrestled with the juxtaposition of the two vastly different people she now knew Azriel to be.

Her own husband had not only ensured her torture but her late fiance’s death. Darien’s fangs were removed—a death sentence unto itself for vampires—and as he fought against Ehrun, she witnessed the end of his life. Ehrun had crushed Darien’s skull right in front of her, extinguishing every hope she had of freedom.

Six…

In a single breath, she could hear Azriel’s laugh and see those ruby-red eyes looming through the darkness of her bedroom. Each memory warred with the other. The feeling of his lips, so gentle and loving, against her skin careened headlong into the sensation of falling as he hauled her over the veranda railing.

The tales Ehrun had told after that were lost to her. She had stopped begging for his mercy; it would never come.

All because of Azriel.

Five…

Beyond her whimper, she could hear someone knocking on the door of her room. Likely Emillie.

The night Madan pulled her from her cell, she had been convinced she had died, and Ern, the God of Wind, had come to collect her soul and carry her to Empyrean. The dash from the keep had been nothing but a blur of back halls and hidden doors, shouts of alarm and dhemons fighting one another.

Four…

The air rushed into her lungs, and she tilted her head back. The stars above her winked, not a care in the world. Somewhere amidst their shimmer lay the heavens where the gods sat on their thrones. Did they mock her?

Prayer had not helped in the mountain dungeons. She had given up on them for some time after that.

Three…

“Please,” she rasped, kneeling. Her hands slid from the rail to the balusters beneath. She let her head fall between her arms, and she squeezed her eyes closed. “Make it stop. Make it all go away.”

She needed to forget it all. Forget the pain and, most importantly, the love.

Two…

Ariadne opened her eyes again and sucked in a sharp breath. A shadow at the edge of the garden. A pair of grounds guards moved in to investigate.

Not again… not again…

Had Azriel come to collect her once more?

One…

“Gods.” She covered her mouth again, this time to force back the scream rising up her throat as the first guard stumbled back, a bolt lodged in his chest. He fell in a heap. The second could not so much as call for help before having his throat slashed open and joining his companion.

Three dhemons, all unfamiliar faces, breached the treeline. The one in the middle lifted a long knife and pointed it up at her. He said something she could not hear, and they stalked forward, keeping to the shadows. With their dark complexion, they slid in and out of sight with ease.

She shot to her feet and reeled back. Not again.

If you leave, I can’t protect you. They’ll come after you—

Azriel’s words replayed again and again. She had claimed Loren would keep her safe. The words had left her before she considered their truth. They had merely been what she knew would hurt him most.

What if he had been right? Three of the monsters from her past were back and closing in.

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