Page 15 of To Vanquish Darkness

Her thoughts grew darker by the second. Even if she found the shed, she would be soaked through and would likely catch sick overnight. She could freeze to death or succumb to illness before the venom ever took hold.

The idea of lying alone on a cold stone floor without anyone to bring her a hot water bottle or steamed lemon tea made a sob rise in her throat. She'd lost everything. In one night, she'd lost her family and friends, her home, her safety.

Part of her begged for death. But another part clawed desperately for some meaning she could bring to her last fleeting moments. She could find information—she could help the Pourfendeurs and save lives.

Amalie had barely turned off the main road when she felt it again. The hair-raising sensation of eyes boring into the back of her skull. Her breathing quickened as she broke into a brisk walk. She stumbled on an exposed tree root as she pushed further into the trees and fell, her knees screaming in pain as she scrambled back to her feet and started running.

The shed couldn't be much further, but the darkness was all-encompassing as she worked her way up the hill. Amalie spread her arms in front of her, her eyes straining. Just a little further. Just?—

A strong hand clasped around her waist, and she was whisked off her feet. Before she could scream, another hand covered her mouth. The air and rain whipping against her skin was her only measure of how fast she was moving. It felt as if she were flying through the air.

She waited for the jolt of her captor's feet slamming against the ground, but none came. They moved seamlessly up the remainder of the hill, and Amalie lost her strength to fight.

Warmth seeped into her from every point of contact, thawing her from the outside in. She gritted her teeth, refusing to feel relief.

It was him.Somehow she'd known it was Theo Vallon before she inhaled the scent of bergamot and jasmine. But why had he come after her? To finish what he'd started? To make sure he was there when she turned?

Amalie wanted to scratch his eyes out. To kick and curse and tear at whatever she could get a hand on. But she needed answers, and she doubted he'd give them to her under those circumstances. She had to be smart. If he was here, she wouldn't have to hunt him down in the morning. Perhaps she could get something out of him that night and go back to Marcel and Olivie before her wits left her.

There was a rush of air, and then Theo slipped his hand from her mouth and righted her, setting her feet on floorboards. The air was black and still. Cool. But no rain fell from above. “Where? How did you—?” Amalie blinked, but couldn’t see anything in the pitch-dark of the shed.

Theo left her side, and Amalie curled into herself, tracking the sound of his boots falling across the floor.So. He could make noise when he wanted to. She winced at the scratch of a match against wood then blinked as light poured into the room.

Theo walked the flame to an oil lantern hanging on the far wall. There wasn’t much oil in the glass, and what was there looked orange and rancid. As Theo lit the wick, the sour smell that filled the barn confirmed her suspicions.

Amalie stared at him as he returned the lantern to its hook and swiveled to face her. Her gaze traveled over the water dripping from tendrils of his hair. His shirt soaked and molded to his chest.

The same calm she’d felt in her bedroom washed over her, and her chattering jaw went still. “Stop that.”

Theo’s face was expressionless. “Stop what?”

“Whatever you’re doing to make me feel . . . strange.”

A twitch of his brow. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Liar.” Amalie glared at him. So much for catching bees with honey.

“A strong accusation. Why would you want to sully your reputation with such poor company?"

Amalie's jaw worked, just as her stomach swooped out from under her.Bastard.The last thing she wanted to admit was that his presence—the mere sight of him—made heat gather at her center. It should’ve been the opposite after what he’d done to her, but the effect had only grown.

His proximity was intoxicating, and she hated him for it. She hated that every time she looked upon his face, her body twinged, begging for a second dose. It was madness. It was the curse of Le Sombre. It was beyond her mortal understanding, and because of that, she could no longer trust her inclinations. She had to find a way to ignore her emotions, to lean only on her rational mind.

Theo stood unnaturally still, like he was carved of stone. His expression suddenly grew serious. "You know what I am."

Amalie pushed damp hair from her neck, exposing the wounds. "You've made that abundantly clear."

His eyes tracked her movement like a bird of prey, lingering on the marks he’d left. "Let me guess. You’re hoping for an apology?"

Amalie scoffed. "If you apologized, I wouldn’t believe it."

"You know my thoughts?"

"I know you're not capable of remorse." Her eyes burned.

He chuckled low in his throat. "And how would you know that? You've spoken with so many of my kind?"

Amalie swallowed, clenching her hands to get blood flowing into her numb fingertips. "I know plenty about your kind."

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