Ailsa

I keep my hands curled tightly in front of myself, trying to calm my heart that thumps erratically in my chest like a fluttering bird trapped in a bush.

My father is sprawled before me on his favorite chair that sits in the main hall, fiddling with his silver cross that started this whole thing. He looks exactly like what he is, a fierce Laird whose word is law.

I can only hope that the last part isn't entirely true.

"You better get this over with, Ailsa. My patience is wearing thin." He insists with that barking tone that sounds more like a pup than a wolf.

I clear my throat and near him with a few gentle steps, afraid to warrant any sort of negative reaction from him. Knowing my record from past interactions, it's unlikely that I will walk away from this completely unscathed.

"Well, I wanted to speak to you about my betrothed." I murmur, keeping my voice even to keep up appearances. I want to seem as calm as possible, I want this man, this laird, I want him to think me strong and confident.

"Ah, yes. The Ramsay boy. They will arrive next week and we will hash out the details then." My father moves both feet to the floor as if to leave, gripping the arm rests to his throne. "Are we done here?"

I jump forward, my smooth facade shattering like glass against stone.

"No, no. I have some questions." I insist, and it earns me a raise of one unruly eyebrow.

Women aren't supposed to ask questions. It's something i should have learned long ago, but I can't seem to help myself.

"Ramsay. Is there any particular reason why he was chosen for me?" I wonder, and suddenly my father is standing swiftly, nearly toppling over in his haste.

His figure is rotund and solid, barreling towards me with precision as he narrows his eyes down at me.

"He wasn't chosen for you. His clan was chosen for our clan, to make it stronger. Did you really think any of this has to do with you? Are you really daft enough to assume I thought of you one bit when I made this decision?"

My mouth clicks shut, my jaw hardening because I already know the answer.

I'm not that daft, but I could certainly wish as hard as the day is long.

Father gets even closer to me, lumbering down the cobblestone steps until he's right before me, hands on his hips and face scrunched and red.

"You are selfish, lass. All you do is think of yourself."

Tears spring to my eyes because maybe he's right.

"But if I marry, I'll die." I say, my voice sounding as hollow as I feel.

I dont blink before something hard connects to my face at a dizzying speed. I'm thrown to the side, toppling into the floor as my cheek begins throbbing.

Reaching for the wound, I curl in on myself to prevent further damage from coming my way, but I dont exactly have much of a choice.

"You are my property, you dont get a say in what I decided to do with you." A harsh kick lands in my stomach, and I cry out, wrapping my arms around myself as he kicks me a second time. This time I am less fortunate as the boot makes a direct hit to my face, likely splitting my lip. "If I decide to break what is mine, there is no harm done."

Another kick, and another. So many that I lose count and my arms lose their hold around my frame, giving up the fight to keep myself together any longer.

"Your death wont be wasted this way, lass. This way, you will do something useful for once." He punctuates his sentence by spitting on me, stepping over me as if I am absolutely nothing more than a bit of mud on the floor that must be avoided and ignored.

It is what I am used to. I was a fool to think this time would be any different.

With that, the doors clunk shut, leaving me alone and broken and wondering how much longer I have left of this miserable life.

When the night finally falls after an excruciating day, I hobble pathetically to my vampire man for the comfort that I desperately need.

After my father's brazen attack, I spent the rest of the night locked in my room to hide away from Gentry and her insistent worrying that never seems to cease. It would do her no good to see my shattered face. There is nothing she could do about it.

And so, I told her i was unwell and needed time to rest, and she let me. She wouldn't be able to tell my bad acting through the door after all.

The same goes for Fraser. Flashing my wounds before they are licked clean is downright cruel, and I should love him enough to stay away.

But my father is right. I'm selfish.

I need to feel Fraser, hear him, see his face. It's my medicine, my addiction, what I need to stop this ache that I feel.

Ducking into the dungeons, I hurry as quickly as I can with a heavy limp that twinges with each step. He hears me coming, and his finely tuned ears must pick up on my odd gate because he's asking questions before I can even clear the stairs down to his level.

"What happened? What's wrong?" I sniffle, holding in my tears but just barely. I step in font of him and lean again st the wall, catching my breath and clutching my lantern so tightly that the handle cuts into my skin. "Dear Goddess."

He standing in front of me, towering over me like an ancient oak, strong and unyielding and impossibly tall. Fraser is baring down on me, his hot breath smelling sweet as it fans my bruised cheek.

"Who did this to you?" He demands, voice biting.

I look up, still panting lightly.

His dark eyes are wide and clouded, jaw locked tight, throat working. He's so strikingly handsome when he's angry. I suppose I should have expected this. It's just still so odd, so new. Someone caring about me like this isnt easy to come to terms with.

"I'm fine."

"Oh believe me, youre not. If you were any worse I'd have blood on my hands already."

I gawk at him.

He puts his hands on the stone outcropping above him, leaning down to seethe directly at me.

"Now. I'll ask you again." His hand grips my jaw, yanking me gently towards him.

"Who. Did this. To you?" Fraser emphasizes each word with venom and hatred dripping from each letter that leaves his tongue.

I try to get my mouth to cooperate, but I can't get the admission to leave me.

"Was it your father?" He asks the question but I can tell from his tone he's only confirming what he already suspects.

I nod as much as I can with his fingers still clamped around my chin.

His nostrils flare.

"Well, my wee mate, you've already made my decision for me."

I feel my eyebrows scrunch.

"And what would that be?"

"Just how much I should enjoy killing Laird Sinclair." His iron grip becomes a caress across my split lip that hasn't fully scabbed yet. His fingers are warm and ghostlike. "And just how painful I should make it."

"But Fraser, you cant!"

"Oh, I will, and it will be my pleasure." His lips flatten as he turns my face gently in his large hand. "Put your lantern down, it's about time that we fix this. Let me take care of you, lass."

Despite my foul mood, a smile climbs my face as amusement dances to life inside my empty self.

"And just how do you plan on doing that?" I question, even as I do as he says, letting down my light source to sit between my feet.

He rolls his shoulders, pulling up the sleeves of his tattered shirt to his forearms.

"I'm going to feed you." My eyes widen a smidge. "My blood, Ailsa. I'm going to feed you my blood."

Denials roll out of my mouth as I try to back away, but his arms shoot out to grab me and pull me closer. I try to fight him, but I find I don't want to, despite the impossible thing he wants.

"No, I cant. I'm not.. This isnt... I eat food, I couldn't possibly..." I ramble, never taking ]my eyes off his. His face is dark, determined.

"You can, and you will." He speaks as if he's in charge, another male authority I must concede to without hesitation.

I make a feeble attempt to yank myself away only to stay in place in his bear trap grip.

"You're not him, so don't act like him."

He raises an eyebrow, curiously cocking his head.

"Who? Your bastard of a father?"

I nod, glaring with my all of my might only for Fraser to laugh at my expression. I must not look as intimidating as I think.

"Make no mistake, mo cuishle, I'm nothing like that pathetic excuse of a person. I may be bossy, but it is all for your benefit. I would never hurt you."

The tenderness in his eyes wars with the determination in his voice. I wholeheartedly believe him, and that's why I sigh and resign myself to this preposterous plan of his.

"So, your blood."

He nods, freeing one of his arms from my shoulders to bring his wrist to his mouth, arelessly plunging his fangs into his vein and offering it to me as crimson drips down to his elbow.

"Vampire blood excelorates healing. It won't do anything but good if you drink it." I put my hand on his, pulling the pulsing wound to my face and eyeing it warily.

I look up at him, my face pleading as the thought of tasting blood makes me stomach roll.

"Do you really think I would give you anything that would bring you harm?" He demands, and I shake my head. "Than drink. You're wasting it."

Fraser's lips turn up as if he's only teasing, and I close my eyes right before descending my lips to his skin.

My first thought is of how warm his skin is. We've always been told that vampires have skin like ice because they are dead, but that couldn't be further from the truth plain as day across my fingertips.

The next thought that comes to me as the blood floods my mouth is how sweet he is.

I suppose that makes sense. Fraser must be sweet in every way.

I give a rough swallow, still slightly put off by the fact thaT I'm drinking blood straight from a vein, the blood of a living breathing thing. It seems wrong, it should be wrong, but that doesn't explain why it doesn't feel that way.

Each gulp of him has the pain lessening, fading away as if it was never there. I wonder if it's all in my head, if somehow Fraser telling me his blood would heal me is playing tricks on me.

But sure enough, when I pull away and lick my lips clean, the gash on my lip is gone.

"How...?" I stutter, and Fraser is grinning at me.

"How did it feel?" He wants to know.

My cheeks warm and I put a hand on my stomach, feeling more dated than I have ever been.

"I feel... it feels..." I wrack my brain, searching every crevice for the word I want to use to describe the sensations I just experienced. "Amazing."

He grins, a wicked expression that has my heart stuttering.

"Good. It's yours anytime you want it." His eyes gleam with what I can only describe as bursting affection. "I'm all yours."

This is gonna sound crazy... but I'm going to start trying to update this book DAILY. I know. Big goal. I'm determined tho!! ❤️❤️

Also updates to His Redemption and Opal coming soon, I promise!!! 😤😤