She dreads meeting me this much?
And why wouldn't she? He'd forced an overprotected, virginal-and very young-female to sneak to his tent for an assignation. In her mind, he was almost a stranger, and she would have no idea what he might demand.
No doubt she imagined the worst, and now her nerves were frayed. Guilt scored him.
But then a scavenging kobold, a sort of reptilian gnome, knocked over a basket near her, scuttling away. She jerked away from the clatter with a cry and flattened herself against the wall. Chanting something between breaths, she pressed one hand to her forehead as she swayed.
Surely this was more than nerves, more than virginal misgivings. She was utterly terrified.
Her trembling brought to mind the moments from last night when he'd been struggling not to bite her. Though he'd been nigh mindless in the grip of his blooding, he now recalled two words she'd whispered, "Not again."
She'd thought he was about to hurt her; clearly someone already had. Another vampire? Trehan didn't think so-she'd shown no more reaction to that Horde vampire at the tournament than to any other contestant. Then who?
She was like the most absorbing book he'd ever encountered. How to turn the page?
Suddenly that strange and inexplicable frustration from months before returned, the dread that had woken him. He rubbed his chest. What had called to him so sharply then? It must have been related to her.
Protect.
Trehan traced behind her, secretly wrapping her within the mist. As his blood female, she was of his kind-even if she didn't accept that yet-and the mist was a part of them all.
She soon calmed, not completely, but enough to steady her breaths and continue on to the tent.
He had to uncover what his little Bride feared. So he could destroy it.
Of course, he was the last person she'd confide in. But there were other ways to learn about her. His gaze fell to her neck, to her wildly beating pulse.
Using one of Lothaire's tactics had brought about this meeting. Perhaps if this bargaining with Bettina proved successful, Trehan would employ another of the Enemy of Old's tricks. . . .
I made it! Somehow Bettina had walked-alone at night-all the way to the vampire's tent.
She glanced around the empty space. So where was he?
"Bettina," he intoned from behind her.
She whirled around with a cry. "Y-you startled me."
The vampire was studying her with a quizzical glance. Right now, his eyes were a steady, dark green. They were handsome.
He was handsome?
He wore black leather pants, the cut more old-fashioned, but they looked good on his muscular legs. His tailored white shirt was made from a light material that did nothing to disguise the latent strength of his chest, those corded biceps and broad shoulders.
The sight made her frown. She'd had the run of his body last night-but she'd wasted her chance to satisfy her curiosity. Great. She dragged her gaze up to his.
When not wearing a scowl, his face was . . . pleasing. He'd certainly cleaned up well after the melee.
She felt safer with him than out on the street, even found the tension leaving her shoulders, her temples and jaw. In its place, that heated awareness returned, bringing with it irritation. Was she actually attracted to this vampire?
Every time he was near her, those molten feelings returned-she seethed inside, not with anger, but with something.
"Please sit," he said, ushering her to a divan. "Shall I take your cloak?"
Parameters, Bettina. "Look, Daciano, I came here to pay off boons, but I didn't agree to open-ended favors. I want to set a time limit for this meeting. I suggest twenty min-"
"You'll stay till dawn." His tone brooked no argument. "Your cloak?" he asked again, as if she hadn't spoken.
There went that plan. With an aggrieved air, she removed it, handing it to him. Or trying to.