Page 133 of Their Blood Rite

‘The noise stopped when I was close to Dhalia. The rage eased. Her blood was a drug. I was made in Hell. Lived centuries as a shadow of death. Then, I was crammed into a vessel. She was light in the dark. A pull so strong I thought I would break apart if I tried to step away. It destroyed me to do so.’ He looks at me, his fingers holding my chin. ‘I am mated to blood magic. It is the only place I find peace.’

‘So you’re attracted to me because you’re mated to my magic?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘If I wasn’t a blood witch, would you-’

‘I don’t know. But you are. I am a moth. You are a flame. I tried to fight it, but I’m too weak to push you away. And as Archie rightly says, you are not your normal blood witch. You give life. Save life. Protect it. No other witch like you has ever done that. All there is for a blood witch is blood. Power. Death.’

‘What if that changes?’ I ask. ‘What if one day, I give in and become just like them? Like Neve and her sisters? Like Dhalia?’

He leans in and whispers, ‘Then I will kill you and keep your soul for my own.’

He smiles. And I have no idea if his words are teasing or a promise.

‘Sleep in my arms tonight, Poppet. Let’s leave the monsters in the dark. Where they belong.’

As I close my eyes, the fire hisses and spits, and sleep finally comes for my shadow master and me.

Chapter 20

The bang on the door sends Dorian to his feet, dropping me to the floor with an undignified scream.

‘Owww…’ I groan, winded.

He takes a double look down at me. ‘Shit. I forgot you were there.’

‘I’m all for some rough and tumble, but this isn’t quite what I imagined, Dorian.’

‘I’m sorry, poppet,’ he offers, leaning down to help me as I rub the back of my head. ‘You okay?’ he asks, having a quick look for any injury.

‘I’m fine.’

There’s another gentle knock on the door.

‘Yeah. Yeah. Hold on,’ Shaw grumbles, slowly getting to his feet and groaning in exhaustion. He must have spent the entire night sat by the door.

He glances at Dorian and me as he rests his hand on the handle. We step away from each other.

I am Shaw’s fiancé, after all.

The door opens.

‘Good morning, My Lord,’ comes a well-spoken male voice. ‘My king has instructed me to deliver you and your men’s… erm… breakfast.’

‘Oh,’ Shaw replies, throwing a side glance my way.

‘Shall I leave them here with you?’

Them? I walk quickly to the door and see three females in white robes standing behind a steward. A blonde. A brunette and a redhead. The blonde bites her lip and looks at Shaw likeshewants to eathimfor breakfast.

‘You had them on your previous visit and were satisfied,’ the steward continues. ‘The king thought that perhaps you would like them again. If you would like an alternative, I can arrange that.’

My fists curl. I’m about ready to slam the door shut when Shaw replies calmly.

‘No girls are necessary. Thank the king for his consideration, but my men and I are currently well satisfied.’

He goes to close the door. The steward clears his throat, so Shaw reopens it.

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