Page 48 of Stolen

He wanted to get to Laurent. And why wouldn’t he? The two of them were so passionate together. I was a nuisance. An interloper. I had come between them—in their lives and their bed. Varick didn’t want me. Laurent only wanted me to save the Deepnight.

I stumbled as the intrusive thoughts paraded through my head.

Varick stopped, his chest heaving. “We can’t slow.” He reached for me.

“I’m fine.” I snatched my hand away and started off again, my feet flying over the dead leaves. He fell in beside me, but I felt his glances.

He didn’t trust me. He never had. It was because he feared I would steal Laurent away from him. Varick liked the power he held over Laurent. It was evident in the way they fucked.

I shook my head to clear it. None of this was important right now. The only thing that mattered was getting clear of the Thicket.

But it did matter. What was I really running to, anyway? More manipulation by two men who would rather sleep with each other than share my bed? Laurent bought me dresses to keep me happy and under his thumb. He was no better than Rolund, who ignored his wives and resented his duties as a husband. How long until Laurent treated me the same?

I kept running. But as I dodged branches and leapt over fallen logs, I knew I could never trust Laurent again. I’d never been able to trust anyone. My brother had sold me into blood servitude, and then my husband had plotted for his lover to impregnate me.

I tightened my hand around the sword. Always, men sought to serve themselves. They ruled everything, and look at what their rule had wrought. Centuries of warfare. All of Ter Isir divided. Laurent couldn’t even control the Deepnight and yet he thought he deserved to control me?

My head pounded with rage. I growled under my breath.

Varick glanced at me again.

I just stopped myself from snapping at him. We had to keep going. Keep running.

But he made me so angry. Always, he made me angry. Of all the men in my life, he was the worst. Cruel and uncaring and quick to lash out. He blamed me for his problems with Laurent, which was ridiculous. Their relationship had been twisted and unhealthy long before I arrived.

In my head, Laurent stumbled against a bed’s footboard. His silver eyes flashed with anger and heat as he bared his fangs at an enraged Varick dressed in full armor. “That’s how it works, General. I give the orders. You follow them.”

In my mind’s eye, Varick blurred. Between one breath and the next, he had Laurent’s back against the wall. Varick pressed his forearm across Laurent’s throat and flashed his own fangs. “Oh, that’s not at all how it works between us. Maybe I should remind you.”

Laurent’s eyes shot sparks as he gasped for air. “I could have your head for this.”

They stared at each other, sexual tension boiling between them.

Varick dropped his gaze to Laurent’s mouth. “Fuck you,” he said under his breath, and then he crushed his mouth to Laurent’s.

They kissed like they were desperate for each other. Like they would die if they were forced to part. Varick shoved both hands through Laurent’s hair and attacked his mouth, groaning deep in his throat as they clashed in a tangle of tongues and fangs. He pressed his whole body against Laurent’s, his hips rocking.

Laurent hissed and sucked at Varick’s tongue. When blood appeared on Varick’s bottom lip, Laurent licked it away. His silver eyes fired, and he thrust his head forward and tried to control the kiss, but Varick used his superior height to shove Laurent harder against the wall. His crimson cloak swayed, and he spread his legs as he continued grinding his hips against Laurent’s.

It couldn’t feel good being pinned between the rough, unforgiving stone and Varick’s armor, but Laurent didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he appeared to revel in it, kissing Varick like he wanted to climb inside him. As Varick deepened the kiss, Laurent gave a masculine whimper. He thrust his hand between their bodies and unlaced Varick’s pants with a quick, practiced movement. When Varick’s cock sprang free, Laurent gripped it and immediately began to stroke, his rings sparkling in the room’s dim candlelight.

More images flashed through my head—scenes between the two of them. Sex and friendship and quiet moments they shared when no one was watching. They were young, and Varick taught a grinning Laurent how to string a bow. When Varick stood behind Laurent and showed him how to aim it, Laurent turned his head and quickly kissed Varick on the cheek.

The scene changed, and they strode through the snow together, cloaks swirling under a brilliant winter sun. Laurent stooped and grabbed a handful of snow. He packed it in gloved hands when Varick wasn’t looking and then chucked it, nailing Varick in the face. Varick retaliated, and their snowball fight ended with Varick on top of Laurent, the two of them gasping and laughing. Varick brushed snow out of Laurent’s hair, then leaned down and kissed him.

Scene after scene flashed through my head. Dozens. Hundreds. Tangled, sweat-soaked nights and stolen moments during the day. Laurent winking at a stone-faced Varick from across the Great Hall at the Midnight Palace, and Varick turning away to hide his reluctant smile.

They loved each other.

They would never love me.

Varick ran at my side, matching my pace though he was capable of much greater speed. He’d never have to slow down for Laurent. They were both full-blooded vampires. I was just a halfling. Rolund’s sister. Kin to Laurent’s blood enemy. And the priest-king worshipped blood. My brother knew this, but he’d handed me over anyway.

Because Rolund wanted me dead. Crasor’s voice echoed in my head. “Stabbing him with the solstone will be enough. Laurent will brand her a spy and order her execution.”

“So be it,” my brother answered.

More men plotting and conspiring. They would burn the world to get their way.

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