Roseline offers to heal him, to use her own blood to rejuvenate him to full health, but he cannot allow himself to feed. To do so would mean near certain death for her on the battle field. Lucien’s armies may be scattered but the war is far from over.
“Don’t leave me.”
I never will. Fane focuses on his breathing, listening to the rasping sound where air escapes through his punctured lungs. The near constant trickle of blood seeping from his rapidly slowing heart is soothing.
Death approaches swiftly and with it comes many lifetimes worth of memories. Times lost to him. Stolen moments with Roseline in his arms and in his bed. Before her wayward heart stole her from him. Before Gabriel. A time when she was free to laugh and love, even if it was only in secret.
In all his years on this Earth, he has never glimpsed a woman as beautiful as her. A tender heart. A hopeful smile. A will to survive, no matter the cost.
Yes, Roseline has seen despair. She has given in to evil, embraced all that it could offer her, but she overcame in the end. She leaned on him in her darkest hour and together they fought back.
He can still remember the feel of her silken skin beneath his fingertips. Embrace the warmth of her smile as she lay beside him in the meadow in the grounds of Castle Bran when all eyes were turned away. Her laughter always brought joy to his heart.
Fane has loved Roseline with every fiber of his being. From the first moment he glimpsed her, he knew love. His fingers flinch beside him as he struggles for breath, allowing himself to seize upon a single memory as Roseline’s pleas fall away.
The clash of swords startled Roseline from her attack. Her arm shuddered as Fane stepped from behind a tree and asserted his force against her lowered blade. A young woman, no older than twenty summers, whimpered at Roseline’s feet, her skin pallid and eyes widened with fright. A babe squalled against her chest, its tiny arms flailed against the cold.
“Get on with you.” He stepped over the woman’s legs and forced Roseline away from her victim.
“Fane!” Her teeth gnashed when the woman scrambled to her feet and rushed away. “You just stole my dinner from me.”
Roseline trembled beneath his damning gaze, her skin flushed from battle. Her braided hair fell over her bared shoulder like waves of fired bronze, illuminated in the firelight. Her skin was as pale as winter snow. Her lips painted with blood.
The leather corset cinched about her waist was layered with braided strips of tan and black. Her leather skirt fell about her upper thigh. Her boots were knee-length and splattered with a mixture of muck and blood.
“Since when are humans considered dinner?”
A sly smile tugged at her lips, but did not meet her eyes as she parried Fane’s added pressure on their locked swords. “You’ve been gone a long while.”
“Apparently too long.”
“Much has changed.”
He nodded, ill at the sight of her gloating, at the unbridled lust in her eyes. He had seen it before but never dared to think he would see it in one once so pure.
“So you are truly back, then?” Her eyes grew wide with challenge but she did not yield.
“I am.”
He could see her indecision at his announcement; heard the sounds of the battles that raged all around them. The scent of blood clung to the air, thick and moist. Human blood. The sound of feeding echoed from the dense fog that claimed the land.
No. Not fog. Smoke.
A village nearby was set aflame. Livestock ran amok through the woods. Shouts could still be heard from the distance. None would survive this attack. Roseline’s husband, Vladimir, would see to that.
“I thought you dead.” She did not break his gaze.
Fane stepped forward, the edge of his blade slid along her own as she altered her position to stay at odds with him. “I made a vow when I fled and I intended to keep it.
There was a feral look about her. Blood cloaked her skin and matted the hair about her face. Her blade gleamed bright crimson. The scent of death about her was potent.
“Nothing has changed since you fled. It is not safe here for you.”
He dipped his head in agreement. “All the same, I had to see you.”
“After all these years, why return now?”
He felt a slight lessening of her grip on her sword and saw a rebellious longing that built within her. He could smell her. Not the filth on her flesh but her—the scent of her soap, her hair, and the blood that flowed through her own veins. Sweet, just as she was when he left.
“I heard rumors.”
“Of me?” Her lip curled with disgust as she looked to her sword. Her chest rose and fell from the exertion of battle. Bodies lay at their feet—men, women and children slain in their prime. Their blood rose through the leaves as Fane pressed her back toward a nearby tree line. She stepped in pace with him, not giving him any hint of an advantage.
Satisfied that he held her fullest attention, Fane shoved Roseline’s sword off. He stepped back and placed his blade into its sheath before spreading his arms out beside him. “This is not you, Roseline.”
She raised her chin in defiance. “You no longer know me.”
“That is not true.” He raised a hand and pushed her blade aside. She allowed it to fall away, the tip grazing the ground as he stepped closer. “You are good, kind, and compassionate.”
Her hair fell like a veil over her face as she cast her gaze aside. “I once was.”
“You still are.”
“No!” She roared and shoved him back. “That girl is gone.”
“Never.”
A callous laugh escaped her lips. Her body language shifted, adopting a haughty stance. “It has been a century since I last laid eyes on you, Fane. Do not presume to know my mind.”
“I do not.” He refused to back down, prepared to find her changed, but not to this depth. “I know your heart. It is pure.”
Roseline’s lips formed thin lines as she tapped her sword against her leg. “No longer. My husband has seen to that.”
“Do you think yourself lost then? That evil will reside within you for the rest of your days?”
Her smirk chilled his soul. “Would you think less of me that I now know bloodlust? That I sate my needs with innocent babes? That I take what I want, exactly when I want it?”
“You know that I do not. I am far from perfect.”
“You?” She scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest, her blade forgotten for the moment.
Fane watched a droplet of blood slide along the contour of her arm and forced his gaze away. “And Vladimir? Have you given yourself fully to him as well?”
Roseline’s eyes narrowed as she spit at Fane’s feet. “Do not speak that name to me.”
“So it is still vile to you?” He stepped closer, marking each breath. A thick branch crunched beneath his boots. The fires would soon spread to this part of the forest with no one left to stave off the flames. All would be lost within the day.
“For all of eternity.”
“And my name?” Another step. She watched him with extreme wariness. He could feel her longing to turn and flee, to head back into the battle, to ignore his presence, but he refused to allow it to be done so easily. He traveled too great a distance for her. He would not back down.
“It once held fondness for me,” she grudgingly admitted before she shifted her stance once more. Her agitation mounted as he drew nearer.
“And now?” With one final step he pressed his chest against hers as she leaned back into a tall pine. Wisps of smoke curled around her, concealing parts of her face from sight only to reveal them once more a breath later. She swallowed and looked to the woods. The clanging of swords had moved off. The battle had shifted. “Do you fear me?”
“No,” she snapped back, but fell silent as she sucked her lower lip between her teeth. Her chest rose as a new flush bloomed along the plunging curve of her corset as her eyes searched his. “And yes.”
“You know I would never see you
harmed.” He slowly raised his hand, pausing long enough to wait for her permission. When she did not resist, he pressed his palm to her cheek. Her eyelashes flickered once, betraying her. “I have dreamt of this moment each night since I left you.”
“And yet you remained absent.” Despite the bite to her words, they held a slight breathless nature.
“I had no choice.” His long, unbound hair unsettled over the crest of his shoulders. The winds shifted in their direction and the scent of the blaze became more prominent. “My presence here put you in danger.”
“And your absence destroyed me!” Fane flinched back at the vehemence in her voice. “You created this. Not Vladimir. I longed for you. Pined for you. For years I waited at the castle gates at first light, knowing that one day you would return for me.” She turned her face aside. “You never came.”
Leaning in close, Fane pressed his lips to her temple. She trembled beneath him. “And for that I am truly sorry. I did only what I felt best for you.”
“And now?” She looked at him from the corner of her eyes as he pulled back. Her pulse thrummed against her exposed neck. The scent of her hope was overpowering to him. The rising scent of her lust weakened his resolve.
“Now I have returned for you. I expect nothing. Only that I can be near you.”
Roseline laughed. “You expect nothing? Oh, dearest Fane. I demand the world from you and I intend to take it.”
His eyebrows rose at her intent but had no chance to speak before her hands wound about his neck and crushed his lips upon hers. Her taste was intoxicating, a mixture of human blood and berries she must have picked earlier in the day. Her nails dug deep into his neck, demanding and urgent.
“I know you want me,” she whispered against his ear as she pressed into him. “You always have.”
“Not like this.”
She laughed and nipped at his ear. “Do you sincerely think you have a choice in the matter?”
Sliding her hands down over his arms, she reached between them and tore his tunic open, revealing his broad chest. Smooth. Chiseled. The strength that lay beneath her hands heightened her arousal.
“I knew you would be worth my wait.” Her wicked grin pierced him through the chest. She was right. He had wanted her from the first moment they met. She consumed his dreams each night only to haunt his days as well. How many times had he fantasized of what it would feel like to have her in his arms?
These long years had been torture for him. No one else could sate his longings, though many tried. None could capture his attention, least of all his heart.
He cried out as her teeth sank into his neck, bringing him back from his thoughts. “Easy!”
She pulled away and when she licked his blood from her lips, he found himself hopelessly lost. “I thought you would like it rough.”
“I am not your husband,” he growled and seized her.
“No.” Her lips curled with delight. “You most certainly are not.”
His pulse pounded in his ears as he gripped her arms, holding her in place. He should set her aside and walk away, at least until she came to her senses, but the way she looked at him…he was helpless to resist.
“No biting,” he demanded as he released her arms and curled his hands around her backside, lifting her up to pin her against the tree. Her giggle did wild things to him as she wrapped her legs about him, grinding her hips. He grew tense, falling still against the sensations that washed over him.
“You are no fun,” she pouted and bit on her lower lip.
At the sight of the temptress in his arms, he rose to her challenge. Plunging his hand into her hair, he held the back of her head as he consumed her lips until she was left wanting for breath. Her eyes glazed. Her lips quivered, bruised from his plunder. “You have no idea what I am capable of.”
“Nor you, I,” she grinned and wound her hands down his bared chest. Her nails along his skin sent vibrations of desire through him. He held her weight with ease, spreading his legs wide as she unlaced his breeches. She did not meet him in the eye as her fingers slipped inside. A breathy groan escaped him as her fingers brushed against him.
“You have been keeping secrets from me, Fane.”
He grunted as she wiggled against him, holding her aloft as she hoisted her skirt up to her waist, baring herself to him. He sucked in a breath, mesmerized by the sight. She laughed and stroked him once more. “Do you merely intend to look?”
Fane hesitated. It was true that he had spent years dreaming of this moment, of seeing her again but he never thought their reunion would be like this. His love for Roseline was pure, unbound and untainted by foul desires. To follow through now would be wrong and yet Roseline seemed determined not to give him the chance to be the gentleman.
He cried out as she jerked her hips against him and nearly lost his grip on her as she began a frantic thrust. Her eyes were wild as she wrapped her arms about his neck. Her bosom heaved with each down thrust. There was fire in her eyes as she locked her gaze on him.
The woods fell away. The distant battle sounds as well. The reality of how dangerous this public union was no longer mattered. If Vladimir or his brother Lucien were to discover them they would have their heads on stakes by nightfall for all at Castle Bran to see, but the risk felt all too worth it with Roseline finally in his arms.
The sounds she made, deep and guttural in her throat, sent him near the edge countless times, but each time she fell still just as he reached the brink. She was skilled in the art of love making. No. Not lovemaking. Lust quenching. Fane knew all too well that she had never allowed anyone to truly love her. Her heart remained guarded from all.
Resting his hands upon her hips, Fane stared into her eyes as he matched her tempo, refusing to look away. Her breath came swift and hard. The scent of her desire leeched from her pores. The smoke shifted around them, concealing them and revealing them a moment later. None of that mattered.
Reaching up with one hand, Fane cupped her cheek in his hand. Her eyes narrowed but her moans rose as she refused to slow. His muscles grew rigid beneath her hands. He pressed her back into the tree to alter his angle and cried out as she spasmed around him.
“Fane!” Her hair created a halo around her face as she rolled her head from side to side, lost to the waves of sensations that he hurtled her through as she reached her climax and pressed her beyond. He did not release her as she fell limp in his arms. He continued his pace, smooth and steady. His blood boiled as he watched her in her throes of passion. Never before had she looked so beautiful. So free.
Gasping for breath, Roseline raised up and smiled, a challenge in her eyes. “You are not tired?”
“I have only begun.”
Roseline grinned and placed her hands on the tree over her head. Her breasts pressed against her tight corset, begging to be released. “We have little time.”
Without warning, Roseline pushed against the tree and Fane plummeted to the ground. His arms sought to curl protectively about her but she gripped his hands and tightened her thighs around him as he landed in a bed of leaves. Leaning low, she took his lower lip between her teeth and bit just hard enough to draw blood. A rumbling growl rose in his throat.
“So you remember me.” With a knowing smirk, she pushed up off him and adjusted her skirt.
“Where are you going?” He called as she trounced toward where her sword had fallen, forgotten in the heat of the moment.
“As delectable as you may be, I have not forgiven you for leaving me.” Sliding her blade into the leather sheath that lay across her back, she turned back. “Perhaps if you remain long enough, you can earn my trust once more. Until then stay out of my way.”
Fane watched as she disappeared into the smoke, lost to his sight and vowed that he would find a way to free her of her torment. Remind her of the girl she had once been. He knew there was still good within her. He only had to find a way to bring it to the forefront once more.
The girl he once knew would never be so callous. Neve
r leave him in such a manner, flaunting her obvious pleasure at using him. He was her conquest and though his heart ached at this knowledge, he could not deny that he had never felt more alive.
A soft smile crosses Fane’s lips at the memory of how far Roseline has come over the past three centuries. Yes, there was pain. Yes, he’d fought hard to redeem her, but every moment of that effort had been worth a thousand lifetimes.
This moment may not have been the sweetest they shared over the years, or even the most passionate, but it was the most memorable. It was the moment when he realized that Roseline was truly worth fighting for, no matter the cost. The moment when deep affection birthed a love so pure it had lasted through the ages.
“Your sword,” he whispers to Roseline without opening his eyes. The effort is too great now. He seeks his end, for herself and for him. “Kill Mateo.”
“No!” She cries out and resumes her struggles to reach him.
“You must. It is my time, dearest. Let me go in peace.”
“Fane, please! You can’t ask this of me!”
He lies still, barely breathing. He does not answer her again. To do so would be too painful. He listens to the sounds of her withdrawal, the shuffling of her feet as she weighs out his final request. He knows what this act will cost her. He should not ask it of her, but if his life is to end, he could not wish for it to be by any other hand.
Fane hears the sound of a blade plunging through Mateo’s bone and flesh just before it pierces his heart. Fane smiles at the screeching howl of the immortal above. His head rolls to the side and he sees Roseline collapse to the ground beside him before darkness sweeps in to steal away his sight.
I will love you for all of eternity, Roseline Dragomir.
***
About the Author
Author Amy Miles has always been a bit of a dreamer. Growing up as an only child, and a military brat to boot, she spent countless hours escaping into the pages of a book, only to spend the following days creating a new idea of how to twist up the story to make it unique.
Amy is the author of several novels, including her popular young adult immortal books, The Arotas Series, which are an Amazon and iBooks bestselling series.
Losing It: A Collection of VCards Page 24