Page 22 of To Vanquish Darkness

Grief and rage pricked her heart in equal measure. She’d asked about herself, and he’d answered with what was now tobecome a shared history. A heritage she’d never asked for and couldn’t accept.Why had he done this to her?Amalie clenched her hands into fists, willing her tears not to fall.

She had to know the truth. She had to take something back to Marcel and Olivie. "Tell me."

Theo laid the poker on the stone in front of him, then sat on the stone beside her. "Ask me nicely."

Amalie shifted so her bare back faced away from him.What game was he playing?Amalie had long been acquainted with the oppressive weight of men’s expectations. At sixteen, she'd caught the eye of Henri, a wealthy suitor from the south loosely connected to Oren through Maurielle's brother. He courted her with lavish gifts and whispered promises of a comfortable life, then cornered her in the garden, his fingers digging into her wrist as he expressly forbade her to cut her hair shorter than her shoulders.

At seventeen, when she left the countryside, she found work as a seamstress in a high-end fashion house with master tailor Monsieur Dubois. He was a man of impeccable taste and often gave her clothing tailored to her frame that he expected her to wear the next day to work. Then one evening as she worked late, he approached her under the guise of offering guidance, but his hands lingered too long. When she recoiled and told him to stop, he laughed softly and told her all she had to do wasask nicely.

Amalie's eyes flashed. "Again. It wasn’t a question."

Theo’s gaze slowly rose to hers. “Why do you think I made the request?”

"You're a vain bastard, and you wish me to be obedient? That, or you want to hear your name on my lips a second time,” she hissed, and regretted it instantly. She was failing. Theo would never believe she trusted him if she kept biting his head off. But it was like he knew exactly where to push to make her see red.

Theo smirked. "Vain bastard. I've been called plenty of things over the years by women like you, but that's new. I like it." He stood and walked back to her pile of clothes.

Women like her? He knew nothing of women like her. "I told you not to touch those."

"I thought we were both doing and saying whatever we wanted now." Theo picked up her shirt and underclothes. He draped the shirt over the table next to her trousers, then made a point of carefully setting her underclothes on a chair close to the heat.

Amalie clung to the sack as she struggled up from the floor and stood in front of him, refusing to shrink as his eyes dropped to her neck and bare shoulders. "If you want my help, don’t treat me like your plaything."

It was a stupid thing to say, and she knew it. Theo had the strength of a god, and she was wrapped in discarded burlap, weak from the cold.But not forever.She would gain his power, would she not?

Something inside her stirred, just as it had when Uncle Oren tried to force her to keep his rules. Maybe it was hubris or sheer rebellion, but she wouldn't sit under anyone's thumb. Especially not one like his.

Theo fingered the lace on her bralette, his shadow stretching across the wall behind him. "Fine. Not a plaything." He looked up through his thick lashes, and Amalie’s blood burned.

Then in a blink, he stood directly in front of her. She yelped and stumbled back, but he caught her arm. "I will keep you safe. In exchange, you will help me find the relic."

Amalie struggled against his grip, but the sack she held around her body began to slip. She froze, and Theo dropped her wrist like she was a hot coal. She couldn’t accept this bargain. She didn’t know the first thing about this sword, and she couldn’t go back to her family for answers. But if she didn’taccept? She could lose the only opportunity to protect those she loved.

Amalie forced her head to nod and felt invisible knots cinch around her wrists.

Theo took a step back, then pointed at a baguette and hunk of cheese on the table.How long had that been there?

Theo unbuttoned his sleeves, allowing the cuffs to hang loose around his wrists. He didn't look like a monster. He never had. That was the problem.

"You’ve had enough time to rest, and your clothes aren’t sopping. Get dressed. We’re leaving now."

Amalie reached for her damp clothes. She turned, dropped the sack, and put on her bralette, then pulled her shirt over her head. She tried not to think about whether Theo was watching.

The fabric felt glorious on her skin after being rubbed raw by rough fibers for the past hour. Once she was dressed, she turned and stared at the food, wondering if she could eat it. Did vampires live off of more than just blood? Her heart sped at another thought almost as sinister. Coming from Theo, the food could be poisoned, or worse, drugged. But the ache in her stomach was too strong. She gave in. Her weakness was revolting.

Theo stalked to the door as she tore off some of the bread and ate. When he swung it open, she scrambled to pull on her boots, then swiped the rest of the food from the table and followed. She could go on a hunger strike, but Theo would probably shove the food down her throat just as he’d forced her to sit by the fire, and she didn’t want his hands anywhere near her lips.

Amalie stepped onto the mulched path. The night was cool, and a mist rose from the ground like breath, but the rain had ceased. The clouds no longer shrouded the moon, and it bathed the world around them in a soft, silvery light. Their bootssquelched in moss and new mud as Theo led them deeper into the woods.

He slowed to a walk only a few paces ahead of her. "Your history books are correct about our curse and the conflict it caused between our kinds in the beginning."

Why was he talking about this now? He’d seemed eager to leave and ignore that conversation, and now he was taking time to explain himself?

Amalie scoffed. "A diplomatic way to put it."

Theo gave her a tired look over his shoulder. "Does guilt eat at you?"

"Over what?"

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