I try to ignore the ache at what he said. There’s a dull throbbing in me, like a call to all that lies beyond metal and heat—to a world meant for knowing. A world I clearly haven’t given half as much thought to as he has.
“You need blood for your magic,” I weakly counter.
“We could find blood enough in Midscape if we were not confined by the curse. Sure, human blood is the most potent, but others would suffice. We were doing it during our moon festivals long before the dryads made the humans.”
I search his face, wishing he could be lying. But I can feel the truth in him as keenly as the heat of the forge…or the tingle at the base of my neck. This would be so much simpler if I could write it all off as him misleading me. Because if he’s not…if he’s not…
Then he’s just a lonely, desperate man standing before me, begging for tenderness Hunter’s Hamlet never allowed me to grow into.
“I need to focus on this work,” I say softly, and put my back to him. “I only have a day to make the necessary adjustments.”
Ruvan lingers, and for a moment it seems like there’s more that he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “I’ll tell the others to bring their weapons of choice; prioritize those.”
He goes to leave but hesitates halfway through the room. I can feel it. I can feel him. His every movement threatens to prickle my skin into gooseflesh. I had hoped that this keen sense of knowing attached to him would fade the more time that passed following our oath, but it only seems to be growing.
“And Riane, you look tired. You should be sure to get some rest; you’re going to need it.” He leaves me with that.
The vampire lord is right, I am tired. But it’s the sort of tired that sleep will do little for. What I need is that which is already before me.
