The Vampire Lord's Wolf Bride

Chapter 3: Her Name

I pulled Helen back, and the two of us flattened ourselves against the wall outside the door.

Liam's voice came through the door, muffled. I couldn't make out every word, but the tone I knew. Not arguing. Not comforting. That flat, businesslike chill of his.

"I will arrange the turning. Stop making scenes."

Selena's voice was faint, thick with tears. "You've been saying that for three years."

Then silence.

Helen and I traded a look. She shook her head at me frantically: leave, now. But before either of us could move, the door opened.

Liam stood in the doorway, close enough that we nearly collided.

He looked down at me. I looked up at him. The candlelight threw his shadow over me, cold and heavy.

"What are you doing here?"

"You sent me," I said.

He blinked. Apparently he'd forgotten giving that order.

Sidestepping me, he made to leave. I called after him, "So am I still copying that manual or not?"

He didn't turn around. "Use your judgment."

Then he walked past me, trailing a gust of air, and that scent came at me again, the one that kicks my heart into a sprint. The wolf in me rolled over, stirring. I drew a slow breath and pinned her down.

He was gone. His footsteps faded down the corridor.

I turned to the doorway. Selena stood in the middle of the room, eyes rimmed red, a perfectly composed smile already back in place.

Her rooms are in the East Wing, close to Liam's own halls and far from mine. Three years she's lived here, waiting for the promise of the turning to come due. Until it does, this is where she stays.

The room was spotless, no sign anything had ever been smashed. Pale silver roses were embroidered on the curtains, the cushions, the tea cloths. Only the vanity gave it away: a bare patch where a mirror should have stood, and nothing there at all.

"Avira." She said my name, soft as breath. "What brings you here?"

Everyone in the Court calls me "my lady" or "that wolf." She was the first to simply use my name. It caught me off guard, and for a second I didn't know what to do with my face.

"I heard you weren't feeling well. Thought I'd look in." I held out the balm and shawl Helen had prepared. "Brought you a few things."

Her fingers were still trembling faintly as she took them. She opened the tin of balm, breathed it in, and smiled. "Thank you. Please, sit."

She had tea brought in. I sat in a chair holding a cup of something so red it was nearly black, not quite brave enough to drink it.

Helen smoothed things along beside me, offering pleasantries like "my lady has been meaning to visit for ages," and Selena nodded along, smiling now and then. Gracious. Impeccable.

But something about the way she watched me sat strangely. Not hostility. More like appraisal, the way you'd study a thing you can't make sense of.

I was studying her right back. She honestly wasn't as beautiful as I'd imagined, but there was a quality to her that made disliking her hard work. Her eyes crinkled when she spoke, and her voice stayed soft and warm.

For the better part of an hour I sat in her room. Helen carried most of the conversation. I couldn't get a word in edgewise, so I stared at the empty vanity and let my mind drift.

When we left, Selena walked us to the door. She caught my hand and said, "Come and sit with me again sometime. Not many people talk to me here."

Her hand was cool to the touch, the same cold as this castle.

I nodded and left without saying anything.

On the way back, Helen kept praising my performance, how little I'd talked, how proper I'd been. I ignored her. I was thinking about the look on Selena's face.

When she smiled, there was something in her eyes I knew all too well.

Loneliness.

The same kind as mine.

We took a shortcut through the narrow gallery behind the East Wing. I'd never been that way before. Black iron plaques on the wall pointed toward the annex courtyards, and wind knifed through the window cracks at the far end, cold enough to make you hunch your shoulders.

A blood servant maid carrying a tray came barreling around the corner and nearly bowled Helen over. Empty medicine bottles and gauze scattered across the floor, and the shawl slipped from the crook of Helen's arm.

The maid apologized over and over in a panic, crouching to gather everything up. Helen frowned, retrieved the shawl, beat the dust off it, and hurried after me, grumbling the whole way.

At the end of the gallery, someone was standing in the shadows ahead.

A young vampire in a black uniform, hand resting on the sword at his hip. A guard on patrol, obviously. He was tall, his features more rugged than most vampires', not that pale, delicately built kind of handsome. More like a face weathered by years of patrol duty out in the open.

"My lady." He stepped aside, inclining his head.

I recognized him. Darian. Captain of the castle guard.

Three months ago I'd snuck out at night and gotten cornered in a back alley by a pack of drunk lesser vampires. He was the one who showed up and ran them off. Afterward he said nothing about it. Didn't report me, didn't look at me the way other vampires do, like I'm something stuck to their boot. All he said was, "Take the main road next time, my lady."

"Captain Darian." I stopped. "Thank you for your help that night."

His expression didn't move. "I don't recall what my lady is referring to."

The exact same answer as last time. He'd helped me, and he'd go on pretending nothing ever happened.

Helen tugged at my sleeve. Liam keeps close tabs on my movements. Who I talk to, where I go, he hears all of it. I didn't want to bring trouble down on Darian, so I took the hint and moved on.

A few steps later, though, I glanced back. Darian was still standing there, watching me.

Our eyes met. He looked away first.

It was full dark by the time I got back to my room. Kayla was posted at the door. When she saw me, she signed: "Okay?"

I signed back: "Still alive."

The corner of her mouth curved. From Kayla, that counts as a laugh.

I washed my face, savoring the fact that I was finally free of that wretched manual. Kayla and I sat at the table chatting in sign, and I'd just gotten to the part about Selena's room having no mirror when I looked up. Liam was standing in the doorway.

Did a double take. Looked again.

Still him.

Kayla moved faster than I did, on her feet in a blink, hand already at the knife on her belt.

He swept the room with one glance, and his eyes settled on the etiquette manual lying open on the table. Still open to where I'd stopped, at the end of round three.

"Who told you to stop?" he said.

My brain buzzed like a struck bell. "You told me to use my judgment!"

"'Use your judgment' meant finish it." His face gave away nothing.

Right. Liam logic. Undefeated.

Then he unbuttoned his coat, tossed it over the back of a chair, and sat down on my bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Sleeping."

I figured I'd heard him wrong. "You what?"

"I'm sleeping here tonight."

In all the time since I married him, he had never once crossed the threshold of my room. Now he's shedding his coat, planting himself on my bed, and announcing he's staying the night?

Kayla shot up, a growl rolling low in her throat. Her eyes had already changed color, claws half out of her fingertips.

Liam didn't even glance at her. "Out," he said coldly.

Kayla didn't budge. She stared him down, the growl building louder.

Helen materialized out of nowhere, positively glowing, and looped her arm through Kayla's to tow her toward the door. "Come along, Miss Kayla, out we go. No getting underfoot."

Kayla shook her off, growling louder still.

Helen wasn't the least bit afraid of her. She took Kayla's arm again, cozy as anything, and dropped her voice. "Miss Kayla, my lady needs a child, and soon. The entire Silver Moon Pack is standing behind her, and without an heir this marriage is a scrap of waste paper. What do you think you're accomplishing, planted here like a fence post?"

The room is only so big. I heard every word, which means Liam definitely did too.

Kayla froze. The murder in her eyes dissolved into confusion, and then understanding landed and her face went up in flames. Her claws slid slowly back in. I gave her a nod, and only then did she duck her head and follow Helen out.

My own face was burning. I couldn't look at Liam, so I stared at the floor and pretended I'd heard nothing.

Helen bustled about arranging hot water and fresh sheets, then tactfully withdrew, pulling the door shut behind her.

The room went quiet.

Just him and me.

His scent thickened in the closed room. The wolf in me started pacing, restless, and my heart pounded like a war drum. I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms.

He'd already stretched out, one arm folded behind his head, as if the bed had belonged to him all along.

I pointed at the daybed by the window. "You sleep there."

"This is my wife's room." He didn't spare it a glance. "I'll sleep where I please. If that bothers you, the daybed's all yours."

A laugh of pure fury came out of me. My room. My bed. Why should I take the daybed? I climbed right up and shoved at him. "Move."

He caught my wrist and swept me aside. "Enough."

I opened my mouth to snarl something back, and suddenly he was over me, his hand clamped across my lips. Too fast to track. Half his body pinning mine, one arm braced beside my ear.

Every muscle in me went rigid. His chest pressed against my shoulder, his scent so thick the wolf nearly tore herself loose. My heartbeat scattered into chaos, and my brain turned to mush.

Then I finally heard it. Footsteps outside the door. Soft ones. Deliberately slowed.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly, as if working out who it was.

Abruptly he let go and pushed himself back off me. Before I could react, he raised his voice to a near shout:

"Enough of your tantrums! If you can't stand it here, crawl back to your North!"

I gaped at him. One second he's listening at the door, the next he's screaming at me? Lunatic.

"Crawl back to the North?" I sat bolt upright, furious. "You think I want to be here? If it weren't for the peace treaty..."

"I don't give a damn about the treaty!"

"Of course you don't." I stared straight at him. "Three years I've been your wife, and you've spent practically every day glued to Selena's side. If she weren't feeling poorly today, I doubt you'd even remember which room is mine."

Something flickered in his eyes.

"And you've kept yourself busy in my absence, haven't you." He gave a cold little laugh. "That was a lovely chat with Darian in the corridor, wasn't it?"

"You're spying on me?"

"Why would I need to spy?" His face was a blank wall. "This whole castle has eyes."

"Oh, that's rich, Liam." I was angry enough to throw his name right at him.

His eyelid twitched.

"I've told you not to use my name."

"Liam." I used it anyway.

"Say it one more time. I dare you."

"Liam. Liam. Liam." Three times, one breath. "What now? Going to hit me?"

His jaw was locked tight, his throat bobbing once, his fingers twisting into the sheets until the knuckles bleached white.

"You've got plenty to say about a few words I traded with Darian," I said, pressing my advantage. "What about yourself? Selena's so wonderful, so gentle, so perfectly proper. Why aren't you with her? What are you doing in my room?"

His face cycled red, then white, then red again. It took him a long moment to force out:

"I wouldn't have come at all if Selena hadn't talked me into it!"