35. Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Five

Tovi

T ovi slipped past the velvet curtains into the throngs of laughter and song. Musicians dressed in all black played in a pit beside the stage. Violins and cellos whined in a sultry tempo as a show atop the stage went on, six dancers bending and swaying to the slow beat of the music.

Other dancers mingled amongst the guests. Goblets of blood tickled Tovi’s nose, and she ignored the ache in her gums as her fangs begged to be released. She had to fight the baser instincts of being a vampyr. Sex. Blood. Pleasure. Pain. It all gripped her in one giant haze of need and standing in the proximity of the alpha back in the galley had nearly driven her mad.

She’d witnessed the want in his eye, the undeniable heat .

It was dangerous; they wanted each other. That much was true now. But he hated her kind despite forming some sort of trust with her, and she had an alliance to make. Sleeping with him would do her no favors, no matter how hungry she was for the werewolf.

She set her sights on Lord Oziel. His greasy, vile aura turned her cold quicker than the Drystan wind, freezing over any warmth Eldrick had elicited. The lord’s bony hands tightly gripped the stem of his goblet—the hands and grip that had once plagued Tovi’s hips or hands during forced dances. Tovi’s feet turned to lead as she weaved through the thicket of dancers and vampyrs, but the promise of intel regarding the rings propelled her forward.

The closer she grew to Lord Oziel, the sharper the creep climbing up her back became. Tovi knew if she turned and searched she’d find Eldrick in the rafters, but again, she kept her focus ahead. He’d already learned her discomfort when it came to the vampyr lord. She refused to let him learn the anxiety thrumming through her veins, too. Or at the very least, cause him to drop from the rafters and intervene.

Tovi exhaled, dismissing the disastrous notion, and sidled onto one of the bar’s stools, two away from Lord Oziel.

“Wine,” she said to the bartender, using a higher pitched tone and accent from the southern part of the continent. Lord Oziel had met her a handful of times, and she had to play the part of someone else to ensure her mask and hair did their job.

The petite human eyed her with suspicion, but thankfully didn’t say a word as she slid a wineglass over to her. A new creep crawled up Tovi, but this time it screamed threat, threat, threat like some monster watched her. She paid it no mind, sipping her wine and playing absolutely aloof.

The trick worked like flies to honey. His chair skidded across the floor, and a shadow fell over her as he approached, so close she could smell the blood on his breath, iron-like and fresh.

She turned, mocking innocence and widening her eyes. “Oh my,” she gasped, using her fake accent.

Lord Oziel smirked, stained fang jutting over his lip. “Are you new? I’ve tasted every female in this hall, but never the delights of you.”

With a sip of her wine, Tovi swallowed her disdain. “Tonight’s my first night.”

He blinked, tilting his head as he drank her in. His focus lingered on her eyes, and he trailed a hand up her arm. Tovi fought the urge to slap his unwanted touch away. He hadn’t asked, and she hated his forwardness, the keen possessiveness .

“You remind me of someone I know,” he whispered.

Tovi remained calm, ignoring her fear. Though she hated it with every fiber in her being, she fell into his touch, encouraging it.

“Someone you want to fantasize about?” she whispered.

Lord Oziel’s hand fell to her hip, and he grasped hold and tugged her closer. Rough and dominating. Tovi’s heart raced, and she wished another male held her, one with sun-kissed skin and gems for eyes.

“It might be your first night, but not your first time, I take it?” he drawled.

Tovi leaned into him, her chin hovering over his collarbone as she whispered, “You’re right, and in my experience, it’s best you and I go somewhere more private.”

Lord Oziel’s eyes widened a fraction. His bottom lip fell open, and Tovi swore drool dripped out. “Eager, aren’t we?”

Tovi stood in one swift movement, leaving him alone at the bar steps away. “Let me show you eagerness.”

He sneered. “Lead the way.”

Tovi outstretched her hand, and Lord Oziel snatched it. She faced forward, hiding her eyes and fear as she headed towards the galley. She stepped behind the curtains, hurrying to another passageway that ran parallel to the galley of other dancers. Unseen, she and Lord Oziel hurried down the hall. Dancers giggled on the other side. Ahead, the door to the outside promised open air. Tovi rushed towards it, opening the door and embracing the cold mist as she tugged Lord Oziel with her, hoping no one saw as the door slammed shut.

She hadn’t even a moment to exhale with relief when her back slammed against the cavern’s rock. His tall, lanky body leaned over her, pushing her against the wall, hurting her. Tovi couldn’t help it—her instinct took over, and she bared her fangs, hissing.

Lord Oziel only laughed, the sound echoing off the stone walls eerie and evil. “Do you take me to be a fool, Princess?” He ripped her mask off .

Her revealed face stung in the cold. She rushed forward, but Lord Oziel pushed her back. A fool—she was a stupid, reckless fool who’d forgotten a weapon.

“Did you really think fake hair and accent would deter me?” Lord Oziel hissed. “I’ve dreamt of your mouth around my cock too many times for you to hide from me.”

Tovi shook. From rage. Fear. Revulsion . “Get your hands off me!”

Scream. She should scream for the other dancers or anyone nearby, but what good would they do? This was a lord. He outranked them, overruled them, and if Tovi made more of a scene, she’d attract more attention, which risked her brother discovering she was in Drystan.

Instead, she’d fight back. Tovi elongated her talons and swiped before he could push her again.

“Do you plan to play first, future wife?”

Silver shot through the shadowy space between them—an axe pressed to Lord Oziel’s throat, and a furious, heaving werewolf pressed against his back, gripping the blade’s handle so tightly, his knuckles were bone white.

“What is the meaning of this!” Lord Oziel shouted.

Eldrick snarled, leaning into his ear. “Say another unwelcome, foul word and I’ll slice your head off.”

Lord Oziel squirmed a fraction until Eldrick’s blade kissed his skin. The vampyr hissed as blood beaded onto the blade. Pure beastly energy radiated off Eldrick. Outwardly, he seemed calm, lethally so, but Tovi felt his wolf in the air. He was seconds from snapping. Tovi inhaled a breath. It was all too much—Lord Oziel’s vile touch, that he’d discovered her, and Eldrick’s whiplash of emotions. But—

“You’re going to answer some questions,” she said, crossing her arms.

Lord Oziel—the pig—had the audacity to ogle her bursting breasts. Eldrick growled, throwing him to the ground.

“Don’t look at her!” he said. “On your knees. ”

Lord Oziel obeyed. Eldrick kept his axe at the ready, and the lord sat between them. Escaping both down and up the alley was now out of the question.

“Do you attend the fighting rings?” Tovi asked.

Lord Oziel scoffed. “Well of course, every lord and lady attends.” A haughtiness rang in his tone. It made Tovi’s insides twist.

“Do you know who the Lone Wolf is?” she asked.

Eldrick’s gaze flicked to hers, gratitude shining in them.

“No.” Lord Oziel’s gaze darted towards Eldrick’s axe. “Though I can’t smell it, your weapon is a dead giveaway, wolf. I hear they’re your kind. I haven’t dealt with them personally, but they’ve supplied my fighters.”

“Your what?” Eldrick stepped closer, jutting his axe under Lord Oziel’s chin.

Lord Oziel bared his fangs. “My fighters. Young werewolves. Your kind. Sadly, my last two died. I punished them for losing their previous fight and refused to feed them, and then… Well, I forgot entirely. Shame really.” The vampyr shrugged.

“You bastard,” Eldrick said, pushing his axe forcefully against the lord’s throat.

“I’d gotten wind that a new shipment was arriving today.”

Tovi stilled Eldrick’s arm. Lord Oziel deserved every ounce of the alpha’s ire, but they still needed answers.

“How do you enter new werewolves into the rings to fight?” Tovi asked.

Lord Oziel studied her, mouth set in a thin line.

“Answer her.”

Eldrick pushed his blade dangerously deep into Lord Oziel’s skin. The single blood drop turned into many, blooming together into a thin, red line.

“I said answer.”

The stone of the alley seemed to shake with the werewolf’s rage.

Lord Oziel sneered. “There’s a back entrance into the cavern on the east side of the forest. Everyone’s fighters are locked away there.”

“You’re lying,” Eldrick said .

Tovi wondered the same. She and her family had built the castle into the lopsided mountain—tunnels and caverns weaved through the rock like an ant hill. Yet, she’d never known an entrance in the east side. Unless, it had been carved to accommodate the fighting rings.

“I’m not. ” Lord Oziel shook his head. “I’ve delivered my fighters there myself.”

Tovi and Eldrick shared a glance.

But Lord Oziel laughed. “Whatever your plan is, it won’t work. I’ll tell Prince Riven you’re here. I swear it.”

Tovi shook her head. Fear shot through her, but she tamped it down. She didn’t have time to worry about how her brother would retaliate.

“No. If you utter a word of my presence, I will kill you.”

Lord Oziel smiled, fangs flashing. “You won’t have a chance. In exchange for the information I will provide the prince, he will finally agree to make you my wife. You’ll marry me, Princess Tovi, and finally be mine—”

Metal sang, and then Lord Oziel’s head bounced on the stone ground.

Eldrick flicked his axe, blood flying through the air and landing in the forming puddle of crimson. Death darkened Lord Oziel’s vacant eyes. Spidery black veins spread across his pale skin, hardening him into a shell of cracked marble. His headless body dropped with a thud to the hard stone.

For a moment, silence stretched in the alleyway. Tovi’s heart hammered in her chest, her gaze jumping between a very dead Lord Oziel and a very calm Eldrick Drengr. She opened and closed her mouth, struggling to find words.

“You killed him…” she managed to say, gaze landing on Eldrick.

“He threatened you,” Eldrick whispered with such a level of calm, like the break of silence during a storm before thunder boomed.

“Yes, but—”

Eldrick took a step towards her. “He touched you.”

“Eldrick.”

“He hurt you.”

Tovi shook her head, a foreign feeling swimming in her gut. He’d killed Lord Oziel because he had touched her. Touched her. Yet, why did that matter to Eldrick? Why did he care?

They stood so close, their breaths mingled. He’d killed for her, slaughtered a man, and she wanted to fall farther into him. His gaze robbed her of breath. He may have appeared calm, but war raged in the gem green of his eyes. Shoulders taut, muscles quivering, axe at the ready.

“I had also promised if he said another unwelcome, foul word, I’d slice his head off.”

Bloody hel , Tovi recalled the threat, but hadn’t taken Eldrick seriously.

Reality rolled through her. “You killed a well-known, prominent lord. Do you have any idea the mess we now have on our hands? He will be missed.”

Eldrick sheathed his axe back at his side and nudged Lord Oziel’s dead body with his foot. “I actually have a plan for that.”

Tovi blinked. He had a plan. Had they reached a part in their truce where he moved without her and filled her in later?

“Do you mind keying me into this plan of yours?” Tovi used his words from earlier, crossing her arms.

Eldrick smirked as if he too remembered. “Of course.”