Page 6 of The Vampire's Bride
“Well, you have one now. You can leave with me and—”
“No.”
His expression hardens. Jonathan hates that word.
A flash of memory returns of our fight last week. He was impatient to have me, but I wanted to wait until our wedding night. When I denied him, he became angry. I was such a fool. I might have even forgiven him if I had not found him, later than evening, with another woman.
I knew then what sort of man he was—the kind of husband he would have been. And it was not one that I wanted. After yearsof seeing how my stepfather has treated my mother, I could not bear to fall into the same trap.
I broke our engagement, but I had not yet found the courage to tell my family. Especially after how proud my parents were of such a fine match. Jonathan’s family is extremely wealthy, and he is the nephew of our king. Our betrothal is the only time I can remember my stepfather being proud of me.
I’d also worried that once Buryk found out, he would marry me off to Lord Thornbury. It wouldn’t matter that he is old enough to be my grandfather. My stepfather would only have cared about the sizable amount of coin he would have paid for my hand.
I narrow my eyes. My parents may not have known our betrothal was off, but Jonathan certainly does. “Why are you here?”
“Because you are my betrothed.”
“No, I am not.”
He stares at me in disbelief. “You would rather become a Vampire’s blood whore than to escape withme?”
Anger sparks in my chest. How dare he speak to me this way. “Leave,” I state firmly. “Now.”
“I willnot,” he snaps, grasping my forearm. “You must come with me. You’re not in your right mind.”
“Let go of me!” I struggle against his iron hold. “Now!”
“No.” His fingers dig into my flesh in a bruising grip. “That Vampire has you under some sort of spell and—”
The door bursts open, banging against the wall. Jonathan pales and stumbles back as Lord Greyvale rushes forward with inhuman speed. Wrapping his hand around Jonathan’s throat, he lifts him into the air as if he weighs nothing.
Shadows gather around Lord Greyvale like a heavy cloak, spreading across the floor like spilled ink. Dark tendrils riselike wisps of smoke and snake around Jonathan’s legs, slowly enveloping him in darkness.
Jonathan kicks out wildly, desperately trying to break free, but it’s no use.
“How dare you touch her,” Lord Valaric growls low in his throat. “My bride told you to leave.”
My parents and my brother watch speechless from the doorway, their expressions frozen in terror.
My heart pounds in my chest, but I somehow manage to find my voice. “Lord Greyvale.” I touch his arm gently. “He is nephew to the king of Aralon.”
His red eyes swirl with black as they meet mine before he returns his attention to my ex-fiancé, baring his fangs in a feral snarl. “I don’t care who you are related to. Touch her against her will again and you will not live to see another sunrise. I swear it to the old gods and the new.”
“I—I’m going,” he chokes out. “I promise. I won’t touch her.”
Greyvale releases his grip and Jonathan drops like a stone to the floor.
He scrambles to his feet and rushes out the door while my family continues to look on in shock.
Lord Greyvale straightens his tunic and turns to me, extending his hand. “May I speak with you in private?”
Cautiously, I slip my palm into his. “Yes.” I glance at my family, and they excuse themselves from the room.
He studies me a moment, and I notice his eyes have returned to their normal red color again. “Are you all right?” He gently lifts my forearm, tracing his fingers over the bruise already forming in the shape of Jonathan’s handprint on my skin. “Does it pain you?”
My heart hammers in my chest. I’m still a bit shaken up. I knew Jonathan had a temper, but this is the first time he’s everphysically hurt me. A small shudder runs through me when I think of how close I came to marrying him.
“I’m fine,” I lie.