Page 7 of Stolen

Rhys removed his gloves. He pulled mine off and tugged me away from the horses. We stood about two dozen feet from the barrier, but its presence was like a weight against my side. Despite Igrith’s heavy cloak, I shivered.

“You haven’t fed since you arrived,” Rhys said. “Are you hungry?”

The statement was so unexpected, I answered without thinking. “Yes, but it’s—” I snapped my mouth shut as confusion swamped me. He was asking me this now, steps away from the Thicket? For a moment, I wondered if he might be joking. Some poor attempt at lightening the mood.

But his eyes were serious, his expression earnest. He took my hands, his fingers warming mine. “I’m the only chieftain ever elected to a second term.”

The change of subject fueled my confusion. “Yes. I knew that.”

A wry smile touched his lips. “I fought it. I didn’t want to lead again. But the vote wasn’t even close. The people didn’t choose me because I give compelling speeches or look good on a throne. They chose me because of my bloodline.”

The sounds of his men had faded completely. Now, it was just the two of us in the quiet forest. There was no one and nothing around. Except for the Thicket. It was like a living entity—a malevolent presence that lifted the fine hairs on my body. But the intensity in Rhys’s eyes did that, too. His regard pressed upon me in an entirely different way. Far from malevolent, it drew me in, making me yearn for something I couldn’t describe.

“What do you mean?” I asked him.

“You saw what I did in the Thicket the night I beat back the shadows.”

“I’m unlikely to forget it.”

“Wesyfedd is a unique place, Given. Isolated from the other kingdoms. We keep to ourselves, and we protect ourselves. Long ago, when Eldenvalla was at the height of its power, the elves tried to conquer us. But the land resisted. It still resists, through our caves and mountains and the forests that surround us. Magic runs under the very ground we stand on.” He squeezed my hands. “And it runs through our people’s veins.”

I couldn’t help glancing at his neck. It was a strong neck—and just as well-formed as the rest of him. His pulse beat steadily in a thick vein that made hunger gnaw at me. I’d been spoiled in Nor Doru, drinking as much blood as I desired whenever I wanted it.

“There is power in blood,” Rhys said. “I can share mine with you. Once you have it, you won’t have to fear the shadows. You’ll be able to cast light as I do. I’ll show you how.” He hesitated. “Igrith…knows things. She’s always been able to see farther ahead than most, and I don’t mean down the road. She believes you’ll need this power. And when my cousin speaks, I listen.”

His meaning sank in. “You want me to feed from you? Here?”

“Aye.” He tugged on my hands, pulling me a tiny bit closer. But there wasn’t that much space left between us, so my hips brushed his. “Let me give you this power. And then let me show you how to use it.”

Power. I had so little of it. Even as queen, I had little agency of my own. Now that I was on the run, I had none at all.

Rhys didn’t press. Just watched me with those unwavering brown eyes. He radiated heat, his body so much warmer than the cold, dead forest at my side. The pulse in his neck throbbed, the steady thwomp thwomp filling my ears like a drum. I usually blocked out the sound of heartbeats, but his was hard to ignore. Before I could think better of it, I reached up and cupped his jaw.

Stubble scraped my palm. He tilted his head to the side, breaking my stare at last and exposing his neck. It was a vulnerable position, and something about him offering himself lit a fire I had no hope of containing. Baring my fangs, I struck with a hiss.

He jerked. A second later, he moaned deep in his throat. A strong arm wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me more tightly against him.

I barely noticed. Because his blood was unlike anything I’d ever tasted. It was laced with something rich and uninhibited, like a wild summer storm or a gulp of water from an icy-cold river. There was nothing subtle about it. These weren’t hints or undercurrents. His blood didn’t whisper. It roared.

I swallowed greedily, my fingers sliding into his hair so I could keep his head where I wanted it. Desire flared hot, pumping moisture to my sex and making my nipples poke hard against the front of my riding dress. The lust was a side effect of feeding, but it flared so much higher this time—undoubtedly because of his blood.

It didn’t matter. I didn’t care where it came from. I only knew that I wanted it. The forest and the cold fell away. Now, there was only his hot blood and his warm body and the sweet ache between my legs. I sucked at his neck and reveled in the unruly power singing through my veins.

He wanted it, too. I felt it in his thick, hard arm clamping me against him. Heard it in his masculine whimper. Low and husky.

It was the latter that jolted me from the bloodlust that threatened to spin me into a frenzy. I wrenched away, my chest heaving. Blood spilled from the corner of my mouth. I wiped at it hastily as I struggled to rein in my desire.

“I’m sorry,” I said hoarsely. “I took too much.” His neck still bled freely, the twin puncture marks glaringly red against the stark winter landscape around us.

He palmed his neck, his eyes alight with the same lust that pummeled me. “I’m well. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I’ll seal my bite.” Before my nerve deserted me, I rose on tiptoe and swiped my tongue over the marks. When I drew back, an awkward silence fell between us. He didn’t look drained. His skin was still a healthy tan, and his heart pumped as steadily as before.

I had to stop listening for it. And I had to ignore how much I wanted to step back into his arms and feel his body against mine.

A dangerous ache. It was always this way. Feeding meant pleasure—something I hadn’t fully understood until I crossed the Rift and drank without shame or censure. But the pleasure wasn’t always convenient. I’d learned that too.

Rhys swallowed hard. Then he shook himself and reached for my hand. “Come. It shouldn’t be long now.”

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