Page 19 of To Vanquish Darkness

Amalie's fists clenched involuntarily, nails digging into her palms, while her heart tattooed the backside of her ribs. She clutched the rough fabric to her bare skin and shuffled to her knees. He’d come back. He’d brought wood for a fire. Briefly, Amalie wondered at the act of kindness, then quickly crushed her thoughts.

“Is this how it goes? You bite and then play friendly?” Her teeth chattered.

“Do you wish me to be your friend?”

Amalie bit the inside of her cheek. “Gods, no.”

“But you do wish to be warm?” He raised an eyebrow, and Amalie shot daggers at him. He was like a wolf offering a rabbit a saucer of cream.

Theo Vallon had created her. He only wanted to keep her alive until he could use her for his own purposes. That was when fear finally gripped her. She was alone. In the middle of the night with a creature who relished killing her kind. Nobody knew where she was, and her only friends thought her a monster.

Amalie shivered, then gritted her teeth and sat straight. She needed to work faster. Hours. Days. She didn’t know how long she had. “I thought vampires had to give up some of their own power to create another like them.”

Theo grunted but didn’t answer. He stacked the wood and tucked splinters of kindling between the logs, then reached for the matches he’d used earlier and struck one against the bottom of his boot. He tucked it against the kindling and crouched on all fours to blow on the tiny flame.

Amalie’s breath caught. The sight of his sleeves rolled up his forearms. The golden glow highlighting the damp waves of his hair. He was beautiful, and she hated it. She’d so rarely had a reaction like this to a man that it felt as if he were stealing more than just her blood.

She hated her fingertips for twitching to trace the line of his jaw. She hated her tongue for losing its ability to speak when he was standing in front of her. It had been over a year since she’d taken a lover, and here her body was betraying her.

Amalie willed her mind into submission.She didn’t want this attraction.She wanted an experience of flesh and blood, of heart and soul. Not of lust and glamour and darkness. She wanted to be filled, not swallowed whole.

Amalie wrapped her arms around her knees, as if to prove her humanity. At least for a few moments more. Her eyes stung, and as a flame took hold, Amalie forced herself to stay pressed against the frigid stone. She would not take his offering. She’d rather her toes froze off than?—

Amalie again flew from the ground and gasped. In a blink, she was sitting in front of the fire with the sack nowhere to be found. Her whole body seemed to be made of stone. She’d been— How had he?—?

How dare he touch her?Amalie curled into herself, her cheeks burning at the lingering sensation of his fingers on herskin, then realized she was sitting in front of him completely nude.

The shame only lasted a moment once she felt it. The warmth from the fire. Heat seeping into her bones.

She nearly wept at the relief and couldn’t force herself to search for the sack or scramble back to her damp corner. The crackle of flames consuming the dry wood filled the silence, and Amalie despised her own flesh for being so weak.

The scuff of Theo’s boots on stone sounded behind her, but she refused to turn her head.Let the monster look.She swiped the tears collecting in the corners of her eyes, pretending the smoke was getting to her. She wouldn’t thank him. She wouldn’t be a willing participant in his ruse to lure her in and gain her trust.

Unless . . .

Perhaps she should pretend to give it. Pretend she was grateful. If he thought she’d accepted her fate, perhaps he’d bring her into the fold?

The idea made bile rise in her throat. She could pretend, but he wouldn’t gain her trust. Not ever. No matter how many fires he built or how many times he swept her off a muddy road or freezing stone. She knew who and what Theo Vallon was.

Amalie’s stomach twisted.And she would soon become exactly like him.A cold-hearted animal. A killer. She wanted to weep.

Movement caught her eye, and she whipped her head to the left. “Don’t touch those.”

Theo held her trousers by the waistband. “I was laying them out to dry.”

“Don’t touch them.” Her voice shook.

His face was dispassionate as he set them on the table. “I didn’t realize you had an affinity for burlap.” He tossed the sack, and it landed next to her on the floor.

Amalie almost screamed, whether from the rage she felt at Theo’s comment, the knowledge of what she had to do, or the burning in her toes and fingertips as feeling gradually returned to her nerves, she didn’t know. She spun away from him and pressed as many parts of her toward the heat as possible, nearly whimpering at the pain.

Amalie’s bones ached against the bare stone.Breathe.She swallowed, forcing the venom from her tone. “How are you still alive?”

He had to be arrogant. Self-obsessed. If he wouldn’t answer questions about her, she could at least flatter him into talking about himself.

Theo grunted. “After you stabbed me, you mean?”

Amalie sensed his every movement behind her. “Yes.” She ignored the fact that most of her upper thighs were exposed as she shifted so the fire could warm the side of her body, like she was slowly roasting on a spit.

---