To Vanquish Darkness (Le Sombre #1)

Chapter 47

47

1824 BLOIS, FRANCE

R achel wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. The forest darkened. Shadows used to make her nervous, but now they felt almost comforting.

Florent stood in front of her, his tall frame relaxed and composed. His hair fell to his shoulders, and the fading light highlighted his chiseled features. He turned to her, a small smile playing on his lips.

She’d waited nearly a week for this moment, and it felt like an eternity. The air grew colder as the sun fell deeper below the horizon. Rachel shivered, her breath nearly visible.

Florent reached out, taking her hand in his. His touch was warm. Steady. "Are you ready?"

Rachel nodded. She’d wanted to ask a thousand questions about the ceremony, but Florent had been so hesitant. He’d barely allowed her into his world, and she didn’t want to do anything to spook him.

But tonight was the night. She and Florent would be bound together.

She knew what he was and had no illusions that he would transform into a husband like Romane. He moved in the night. He kept his secrets and lived with a burden she could never fully understand.

But this ceremony would strengthen him, and he would be hers.

Florent placed a chalice on a stump next to them and squeezed her hand. "You must follow my instructions exactly."

Rachel nodded, then tensed as another figure emerged from the trees. His eyes glowed amber in the twilight, and he wore a cloak that flowed around him like mist. A deep calm washed over her, pressing against her shoulders.

“Who is he, Florent?” Rachel swallowed hard, her throat dry. This vampire was strong. She wanted to trust him, but this was not a part of the plan. Florent had never mentioned the need for another. Though, in a traditional marriage ceremony, they would have enlisted a bishop or priest. Perhaps this was a tradition he’d forgotten to mention?

Florent pulled her closer as the vampire in the cloak raised his arms, and the air around them suddenly hummed with energy.

Rachel's heart raced as she watched, her breath coming in short gasps. Her mortal mind screamed for her to run even as her body rocked in the waves of his glamour. She knew what he was. She’d been taught to see the signs. Yet her guardian blood seemed to sprout like a seed soaked with water.

She was made for this. Her blood was meant to seek his.

Florent leaned in. "Listen carefully."

Rachel nodded, her legs trembling as she took a step closer.

The man began to speak, his words flowing like the Loire in a language she didn’t recognize. After a moment, he turned to her and spoke more slowly.

“Repeat the words,” Florent whispered.

“I don’t understand them.”

“Just do your best.”

Rachel’s voice shook as she repeated the strange syllables. An odd sensation, like a sustained bolt of lightning, surged through her veins.

Florent had explained the oaths they’d be making. That she would be sacrificing blood to share a bond with him. But repeating foreign words from a creature she had no experience with made her skin crawl.

She gripped Florent’s hand tighter and finished the last sentence, gasping as her ribs cinched around her lungs. “Florent?—”

“Nearly there, love.” His tone was flat as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, ornate box. He opened it, revealing a sleek silver dagger with a glistening blade.

Rachel's eyes widened, her pulse quickening. She knew what came next. She had to trust him, to let him complete the ritual.

Florent plucked the dagger from its velvet casing. "Would you like to do it or shall I?"

Rachel’s throat tightened. She reached out and took the dagger with trembling fingers. With a deep breath, she brought the dagger to her palm. She hesitated, her mind screaming at her to stop. But she couldn't. She had to finish what they’d started, and this was only a meager offering.

Florent stepped closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "Do it."

Rachel closed her eyes and dragged the blade across her skin. She hissed as it sliced through her flesh, a sharp pain radiating up her arm.

Florent’s pupils dilated, his fangs descending at the scent of her blood. He’d explained the pleasure her blood brought to him. How he craved it.

Florent caught her hand as crimson pooled in her palm. He guided her to tip her hand over the silver chalice, her blood dripping into the vessel. Rachel's heart pounded in her chest as the droplets fell.

Florent took the dagger from her and slid the blade over his own palm, then held his hand over the cup. Their blood mixed together in the bowl, and the man in the cloak began chanting again.

“Is it done?” Rachel whispered.

“Nearly.” Florent didn’t look at her. He stared at the chalice, his blood dripping past his wrist and staining the cuff of his shirt.

He still gripped the dagger with his right hand, his knuckles white.

“Here.” Rachel reached out for the box, but Florent stopped her.

“Don’t move.”

“Florent—”

His eyes flicked to hers, and Rachel’s voice died on her tongue.