Page 79 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

Her blood ran cold. She had to have misheard him. She could not get through these last weeks of wedding preparations without him. Even if they could not interact, seeing him would be better than nothing.

“Congratulations,” he said when she did not speak and took a few steps closer. His jaw, more tense than usual, flexed. “You must be ecstatic.”

The air burned in her lungs. This could not be happening. None of it. Every evening was a waking nightmare. From the engagement to Loren’s volatile jealousy of the guard to the one man trusted more than most leaving forever.

“Thank you.” It was all she could choke out in response. Eyes prickling, she inclined her head, then turned back to the sitting room.

“Ariadne, wait.”

Her name… oh, her name on his lips…

Then his fingers closed around her bruised wrist. Hissing in pain, Ariadne yanked her arm back. Unlike when Loren held her, however, Azriel let go. She curled the injured arm against her chest, cradling it away.

Brows furrowed, Azriel’s nostrils flared. When he spoke, his tone was flat and low. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

“Nothing.” She dropped her hand to her side. “Good evening, Mister Tenebra.”

Ariadne hurried away. She should not have stopped to speak with him. It only served to pain her more than the night already did. Entering the sitting room, pulse thundering in her ears, she did not notice his pursuit until he spoke next.

“Don’t lie to me.” His long legs overtook her, and he placed his huge body between her and the rest of the room. “What happened to you? You were fine when I saw you last.”

“I am fine.”

Azriel gaped at her, eyes wide. “I’m meant to protect you. I can’t do that when you refuse to speak to me.”

“You are transferring anyway,” she choked and clutched at her throat as though the pressure could ease its tightness. “It was a reaction, not pain.”

“I haven’t transferred yet.” He moved closer. “Please let me help you.”

Ariadne shook her head. “You need to go. You are not supposed to be here.”

“Not until—”

“If he catches you in here, he will have you killed.” She pointed to the door. “Go.”

In one fluid motion, he grabbed her hand and pulled her sleeve up. The yellowed bruise, clearly outlining fingers, stood out in the firelight. Azriel stared. He stared and stared, and Ariadne did not so much as see him blink or breathe. If he had moved at all, she would have been surprised.

“This.” The word left him on a low, gravelly breath. “Who did this?”

In all her life, Ariadne had never seen a vampire so still. The green of his pale eyes seemed to shift in the firelight, flickering a muddied color from his rage. Yet his hold on her hand throughout it all remained loose and passive. The self-control as he teetered on the brink of blind fury should have frightened her. His ability to still see her—to still know her limits—through the rapid thoughts was enough to prove she could trust him, even in that moment.

When she did not reply to his question, he released her and took a step back, still staring at the bruise. She tugged her sleeve into place, but his gaze remained locked.

He growled, coming to the correct conclusion via her silence. “The General.”

“It was an accident,” she said in a rush, and finally, those fiery, molten eyes shifted to her face. They looked so strange in his quiet seething. Still, the lurch of her heart was not fear.

Azriel shook his head. “I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him for laying a hand on you.”

That. That shifted her perspective as it was far from what she expected the guard to say.

She closed the distance between them. “No! Azriel, it was an accident.”

“He hurt you.” His voice broke, and his chin quivered. “I took an oath to keep you safe, and that bastard hurt you.”

“He did not know—”

“How?” He swore under his breath. “How could he not possibly know?”

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