“She was a remarkable woman, full of spirit and strength of character. She seemed unshakable,” Beret described in an exhausted voice.

Unable to walk after losing so much blood, and with pain surely tearing through his massive body, I had decided to carry him. I had abandoned my armor so that Beret’s would not hinder me while he rested upon my back. Anela and the others had not been pleased to see me discard the “only” thing protecting my body, but none of them had argued once my decision was made. Anela also remained without armor, though unlike mine, his was no longer of much use. He had borrowed Beret’s sword as well, so that he could defend himself—defend all of us.

“Keep talking, Beret,” Anela urged. “Do not fall asleep.”

“I loved that woman, but she died because of one of the monarchs’ curses,” he continued. “I have remained alone ever since.”

Beret’s head rolled onto my shoulder, and I turned toward him to make certain he was still conscious. His complexion was deathly pale, but his eyes remained open. He was still alive. Few could have endured for as long as he had. He possessed tremendous determination, and I knew it was largely because of Anela. The Bloody Vicar walked several paces ahead, carefully avoiding any contact with me since our… deeply intimate encounter.

As I watched his back, I inevitably remembered how it had felt beneath my lips. Its firmness and softness haunted me, and I was dying to taste him again. My mouth watered at the thought. Even though I had wept like a child, he had neither recoiled nor mocked me. He had wiped away my tears and kissed my lips. He had remained true to himself. The moment I had shared with him was carved into my skin and my heart. He obsessed me.

I did not know whether my stare had grown so intense that it had begun to truly burn him, but Anela eventually slowed and turned toward me. When those drops of blood met my eyes, color spread across his cheeks and ears. My heart pounded within my chest, my mouth went dry, and to keep myself from devouring him like a beast then and there, I tightened my hold upon Beret. The latter growled, drawing our attention and breaking the connection our gazes had created.

“You truly are monstrous,” Beret muttered. “You can carry me and walk as though I weigh nothing.”

“I wonder whether you could carry all of us,” Fratera added with amusement.

I smiled and raised an eyebrow.

“Would you like to turn me into a mount?” I chuckled. “I cannot promise I would never rear up.”

My reply drew laughter from everyone, lightening the oppressive atmosphere surrounding us. Beret coughed, nearly choking upon his own laughter, but that did not stop him. He was a man who delighted in life, and I was surprised to realize that I enjoyed his company—enjoyed all of their company.

“I know someone who would be delighted to ride you,” he added with a lewd laugh.

My steps stopped abruptly at his crude joke, and I quickly looked toward Anela. The atmosphere grew heavy again, though in a far more licentious way. An image of Anela violently imposed itself upon my mind. I saw him astride me, rolling his hips with fervor to take me as deeply as possible while my own rose to drive myself farther inside him. The same image seemed to cross Anela’s mind, for he turned toward me, parted his lips, and released a trembling breath that was almost a moan. He closed those appetizing lips almost immediately, but it was too late.

My cock throbbed with desire; my stomach burned with it. I wanted to possess him so desperately, in every possible way. Had I felt no attachment to the other Dukes, I would have dropped them where they stood and taken Anela against a saune, his cries piercing the woods and joining the songs of the red whistlers. No. I had to calm myself, extinguish the fire consuming me—or at least lessen it. I breathed deeply and closed my eyes.

When I opened them, Anela was closer.

“You are fortunate to be injured, Beret. And mind your words. There is a child present,” Anela scolded, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Oops,” Beret chuckled. “Sorry!”

I looked toward Pero, but she appeared confused. She clearly had not understood our companion’s obscene joke, and that was undoubtedly for the best. I rested my hand upon her now-tied hair and stroked the few small red curls that refused to remain in place. She beamed, and a flash of surprise crossed her hazel eyes. I questioned her with my gaze and watched her sniff before declaring:

“You smell like the consanguines!”

That seemed to catch Anela’s attention. I removed my hand from her small head, uneasy.

“Yes. Your scent is overwhelming, like the consanguines,” Beret confirmed.

I took a moment to answer, lost in thought.

“Flowers grow near my home. Their fragrance is so strong that it sometimes clings to the body.”

“I did not know flowers with such a scent grew near Harshblood,” Fratera said in surprise.

I was about to respond and dispel any suspicion or curiosity, but Anela leaned toward me. I held my breath as he inhaled. When his brow furrowed, my heart collapsed with fear.

“Consanguines?” he repeated, staring blankly ahead.

His eyes were so troubled that I understood something other than my scent was disturbing him. My expression mirrored his, and I inhaled deeply. Accustomed to my own fragrance, I could barely detect it, but a fouler odor crept into my nose: the stench of rotting flesh. The same flash of understanding crossed both Anela’s eyes and mine. I hastily lowered Beret to the ground and began searching through the bags beneath Fratera and Pero’s confused stares.

“Selene,” Anela called.

When I raised my head, he threw me the iron wires that would form our defense.

“What is—”

Pero could not finish her sentence. She vomited, her stomach contracting violently. Fratera covered his nose, and Beret growled in displeasure. Anela and I wound the wires around the saunes on either side of us.

“How…? How did you smell it before we did?” Beret breathed.

Anela finished securing his side and knelt before Pero. He removed her sword, took it for himself, and gave her Beret’s.

“A legion is coming,” he announced, his voice almost trembling. “There are only five of us. Even my Triads would not survive something like this. Vileblood is too far away for us to call for help and expect reinforcements. We are entirely on our own, and…”

Fratera placed a hand upon Anela’s shoulder. He had poured out the words without pausing to breathe. The vulnerability upon his face filled me with fury. Once again, that smoldering anger devoured my entire being.

“We knew what awaited us,” Fratera murmured reassuringly. “It will be all right. But if it is a legion, then the monarchs…”

“They said they could do nothing about the ‘little ones.’ Apparently, they do not control the bloodfeasts.”

“The smell is horrible,” Pero whimpered.

Anela rose with the sword in his hand, gripping it with all his strength. He positioned himself before us, ready to defend us. I moved toward him and pressed my chest against his back. I brought my lips to his ear and inhaled deeply, filling myself with him.

“I am not letting you go,” I promised.

“They are going to die.”

His voice was too quiet for the others to hear, but I felt all the despair threatening to make him falter.

“We will protect them. Together.”

“It is a legion,” he groaned. “We will never succeed. There will be far too many of them. The stench is so strong I am moments away from vomiting my guts out, Selene.”

I placed my free hand upon his stomach and urged him to lean back against me. He obeyed my silent command and exhaled softly once he was nestled against my body.

“Together,” I repeated.

He raised his head toward me, and within his irises of blood, I saw all the faith he placed in me. He believed in me—in my words. He leaned upon me so completely that it shook me. When he turned his gaze straight ahead, I knew he had immersed himself in prayer to God. He would undoubtedly ask Him to watch over us, to preserve our lives, and, if necessary, to spare ours at the expense of his own. He prayed and pleaded with Rodel, and I directed all the rage within me toward the bloodfeasts—toward the little ones.

First, the earth began to rumble, and then it trembled. The leaves rustled violently, drowning out the songs of the red whistlers. The ground shook beneath our feet, and I reluctantly released Anela as the stench made our noses wrinkle. Fratera drew his bow and released an arrow. It flew through the air with such force and precision that it traveled far—far enough to wound one of the bloodfeasts. Its howl provoked a chorus from the others, offering us our first glimpse of just how many there might be.

Anela stepped back and collided with my chest.

“Run. Take only what is essential.”

“What?” Fratera exclaimed.

Anela turned and, with a stroke of his sword whose secret belonged to him alone, severed the iron wires, creating an opening for us.

“Run!” he snapped impatiently. “I would recognize the cries of a legion among a thousand others. There… there is more than one.”

Understanding the urgency of the situation, Fratera dragged Pero along with him and began to run. I bent down to pick up Beret, whose condition was worsening.

“Leave me,” he gasped. “You are going to die if you keep carrying me.”

Anela cast a fearful glance behind him and shoved me forward. I lifted Beret and ran, followed by the Bloody Vicar. More alarmed than any of us, he was the first pureblood to notice the presence lurking among the trees surrounding us. He practically leaped upon Fratera, severing the head of a bloodfeast as he passed.

“Stay alert! Watch the trees, and do not stop!” he ordered.

Despite his own command, he came to a halt. Sword in hand, he waited for the rest of the enemy, cutting down those that sprang from the trees. I seized the head of one bloodfeast and crushed it within my hand. I would not continue without Anela. I turned back, striding heavily toward him, and grabbed his arm with brutal force.

“Go, Selene! We do not stand a chance, but I want to at least give them some hope—some chance of surviving!”

He was mad. I trapped his red hair between my fingers, and he grimaced in pain.

“You are mad,” I repeated. “I will not let you do this!”

Both of our eyes widened when an arrow flew between our faces. It buried itself in the skull of a bloodfeast, and Fratera stepped forward to stand beside us.

“This is not the time to argue. The enemy is here.”

His voice brought us both back to our senses. I released Anela, but he placed his hand upon mine. The gesture soothed me slightly. I nodded, turned away, and lowered Beret against a tree.

“I will watch over him,” I promised.

Yet I knew perfectly well that my promise would crumble if Anela were placed in danger. He mattered more than the others—far more—and if I had to choose between his life and Beret’s, my decision had already been made. Still, I chose to trust Anela: the man our God had shaped with His own hands, the Vicar of Rodel. I believed in his strength, and I did not regret it.

The bloodfeasts descended upon us like demons. Pero remained at the center of our formation so that we could protect her if anything went wrong, while Fratera loosed his arrows faster than anyone I had ever seen. Anela… Oh, our Bloody Vicar seemed to dance among the corpses and the bloodfeasts, all of them ravenous for blood as pure as his. His arms spun as swiftly as his legs, and he appeared to glide across the spongy ground. Blood and pus burst from his enemies, yet he had time to kill a dozen more before their bodies even struck the earth.

Scarlet whirlwinds formed around him and drenched him. The splatter reached us as well, and I slaughtered without thought those who attempted to touch the lives Anela held so precious. I was captivated by him—by him alone—for his beauty had no equal. Amid the horror and chaos, he remained magnificent, sublime, and not even the blood of the bloodfeasts, tainted by death and decay, could defile him.

He was majestic, the equal of a monarch and far more besides. And it was within that anarchy, while the bloodfeasts multiplied faster than any foul weed, that I heard Anela’s voice. Through the piercing shrieks and the desperate struggle to survive, I heard the plea born from his terror of watching us die.

“God Rodel, come to our aid.”

He cut down the enemy, his mind filled with prayer, and then he began to beg. Anela did not beg Rodel, but Od, the son of our God and creator of the bloodfeasts, to come to his aid.

“Please, Od, if you desire my arrival so greatly, do not allow the Dukes to die here. I, Anela, Bloody Vicar, promise that I will listen to you.”

He was not renouncing his faith in Rodel, nor was he abandoning his intention to take Od’s life, but he also wanted to ensure our survival. Did he not understand that we could not all survive? No. He believed we could. He wanted to believe it, and if doing so meant turning toward Od and granting him his attention, then he was prepared to pay that price. Severing five bloodfeasts with a single sweep of his sword, Anela raised his head and searched for something before declaring:

“Rune, if you are here… if you are watching over me, help us.”

Ah, Anela… My Anela… You are so wondrous.