Night Fall Chapter 1

Mya hated England. She hated its up-and-coming center, preferring the old, rocky, dirt roads of Spain. She missed playing on them, getting her feet dirty, her clothing soiled. She missed the simplicity of it all. There was something natural about the Spanish landscape, something England could not grasp no matter how many times it attempted to with its perfectly spaced, manicured trees. It was not wild, not like her. But England was her home now.

Erik had become her family’s guardian. Due to his status as lord of the region, Erik was able to keep Gregori out of England’s upcoming wars. He took on the task of tutoring both Gregori and Lucas in a variety of subjects, from education to creative skills, and, lastly, battle.

He had hired a female tutor for Mya, hoping to give her someone to relate to. But that was an impossible task. Mya did not care for the woman and only agreed to attend her lessons so she could play outside afterward. That was the only time she felt free. She climbed the tall oak trees, chased insects, and tore through the garden beds on her adventures to “help” their chef. She would flee to the stables, sneaking around the stablemen to slip fruit and vegetables to the horses, but it was that last forbidden adventure that had her crying on the back stairs that afternoon.

She heard the crunching of rock under boots in front of her. Then she heard them pause. She knew by the sound of the steps that it was Erik, but she refused to meet his gaze. She did not want him to see her cry. He did so much for them, for her. He spoiled her and she knew he gave her far too much attention. Even unhappy, Mya did not want to seem ungrateful or make things harder on Erik or her family. But Erik knew her intrinsically. She did not know how, but he knew what she needed, and no matter how determined she was to handle her issues on her own, Erik would not let her. And he always got his way.

Erik slipped his hands under her arms, lifting her. Then he turned and took her place on the seat, setting her in his lap, a habit he had continued from when she was a child. He held her with her back to his chest and let her sit there in silence as more tears rolled down her cheeks, turning into full sobs of sorrow.

When she quieted, Erik asked, “Why are you crying, fagr skjaldmær min?”

Mya shook her head. “I am not crying.”

He laughed, the sound as comforting as the warm rays of the sun. “Then what is the reason for the waterfalls pouring from your eyes?”

She shook her head with a small grunt.

Erik ran his fingers through her long dark tresses, bunching the curled strands between his fingers. “Tell me, fagr skjaldmær min.”

“When will you tell me what that means?” Mya asked, attempting to distract him as she sniffled and leaned more into his body, letting his strength run through her.

“When you are older.”

When she pouted, and turned her head to face him, he said. “Now, Mya.”

She sighed. “One of the stablemen…” She paused, glancing at Erik to see how much trouble she would be in for wandering around the horses.

“I already know where you go, fagr skjaldmær min.”

She gasped. “You do?”

“Of course I do. Why do you think I hired extra men? Their job is to watch over you, if I am otherwise engaged, and ensure none of the horses hurt you.” Erik dropped a soft kiss to her temple. “There are not many places you could go that would escape my gaze. It is my job, my duty, to be there for you should you ever need me, and it is a role I take very seriously.”

Mya blushed, but she did not know why. She was not sure what to call the level of affection and admiration that spiraled through her heart at his words. He made her feel safe, she realized, a feeling she had only felt before with her parents. Then the crawling feeling of misery tugged sharply at her heart once more and she had to stop herself from crying again.

“One of the stablemen asked if I was your daughter,” she finally said. “I-I know he did not mean any harm, but it made me think about Papa and Mama.” She trembled, and Erik drew her closer as if he wished to physically banish her grief. “I try not to think about them too often. It hurts so much when I do. I was not strong enough to protect them.” She shook her head. “I should have been stronger.”

“Mya–”

“What if it happens again?” she hiccupped.

Erik wiped the tears from her eyes. “We are vampires now. We do not have to worry about the plague—”

“But there are other things. You are always training Gregori and Lucas to fight because humans can kill us, yet you will not train me. Is it because I am too weak? Is it because you can only see me as a girl? Do you see me as nothing but a young woman, a child, too young to be useful? Your pseudo-daughter—”

“No,” Erik said so sternly that it felt as if the world stopped. “You are not weak.” He paused and stroked the soft skin of her cheek. “I remember the day Gregori brought me to you. I remember how hard you tried to fight to save Gregori from contracting the disease. Those are not the actions of a weakling. And I could never see you as a child, nor as my daughter.”

Mya was too stunned to say anything, and he took advantage of her silence. “I see you as something so much more. Something more beautiful, more fantastical than I could ever explain to you. I cannot see you as I see Gregori and Lucas, nor can I treat you the same way I treat them. You hold my heart in a way that no one else ever will, and that love allows me to see you, to see through you into this thing here.” He lightly poked at her chest, right above her heart. “You are strong, fagr skjaldmær min, and I am honored to be able to witness that strength every day.”

She shattered, tossing her arms around Erik’s neck hugging him as she cried into his body. His long, pale blonde hair tickled her face, neck, and shoulder as she stole into his warmth. He held her, gently rocking with her and rubbing her back until the grief of her parents’ death left her.

The silence brought back his words, and Mya tried to analyze her own feelings for the man who had helped save her life. There was so much to Erik that she treasured, and yet so much she did not understand, including her feelings for him.

He was everywhere and everything to her. He was there when the memory of her near death kept her awake at night. He tucked her in and waited until she was asleep before he left. He was there to speak with her, to carry her, play with her, read to her. He fed her, clothed her, listened to her words, her thoughts. He valued her. Without him she would have nothing, she would be nothing.

But it was more than that.

She respected the man she found herself watching far too often. She respected how he treated those around him. He was stern but just, a merciful enforcer who both defended his lands and inspired his people. He was intelligent, courageous, brave. He gave so much and asked for so little back. To Mya, he was a symbol of perfection—something she should not be able to reach—that blessed her each day and night.

But what did all of that mean? She loved Erik in a way she did not love her brother or cousin. Mya did not have any companions, but she knew what she felt for Erik was more than that. If Erik asked her to lay down her life for him, she would do it with a smile.

It was not adoration or pure devotion. It was a simplistic need to bring him whatever level of joy she could, to give him something of what he gave to everyone else: A chance for survival. A chance for happiness. A second chance at life.

So there, in that moment, even though he had not asked and even though she did not have a clear understanding of her feelings, she gave him what she could, something she had not given anyone outside of her family.

“You are in my heart too, Erik.” Mya exhaled, and he shivered. “I do not know the love I feel for you. I have not felt it before, but it is there, nonetheless. It is all-consuming and never ending.”

Erik’s supple lips curled at her temple, then he inhaled as if he could breathe her in. “And for that, I am truly blessed.”

* * *

Mya thought to skip her visit to the stables the following day, not wanting to repeat what happened before, but she pushed through her fear. She enjoyed tending to the horses, and as a strong woman, she refused to be chased away from something that made her happy. So, with her basket of apples, carrots, and celery, Mya held her head high and entered the massive archway.

Every head snapped away from the sight of her, causing her confidence to drop. The stablemen normally did not pay attention to her, but this level of avoidance was unsettling. They seemed to cower with every step she took.

Mya knew that she did not inspire fear, and the only person she knew that did—Erik—was not in the stables. Mya would have known if he was behind her. He always smelled of pine, ash, smoke, and cinnamon, scents that brought her comfort and peace.

Still, she turned to check, but he was nowhere in sight. When she turned back to the men, they were already busying themselves with their normal day to day tasks, ensuring that their backs were to her.

Mya would have thought she had imagined the whole thing if it were not for the way the men scattered away from her every time she passed near them to feed one of the horses. They had never been overly friendly or conversational with her, above and beyond the watchful nature of their roles, but the way they veered away from her now, and the eyes that followed her back when she moved, did not feel like mere curiosity. Instead of apathy, they treated her as if she was a blight that could infect them.

She shrugged. Their actions made no matter to her. In all actuality she preferred to be left alone; speaking to people took too much energy from her, and she found their conversations not only tiring but uninspiring. Still, the sudden change was strange, but that was not the only thing that struck her as odd.

Mya had kept an eye out for the stableman who had spoken to her the day before, desperate to not run into him again, but as the morning wore on, she realized that she had not seen him at any of the usual posts in the stables or out on the field.

When Erik came to tuck her in later that night, she decided to give voice to the thoughts in her head.

“I went to the stables today,” she said, studying him.

His entire body seemed to still, except for one small tic in his hand as he gripped the top of her comforter. His silver eyes met her own, and she noticed how hard they were. “I know. How were the horses?”

“Well, but—”

“Then I am overjoyed to hear you enjoyed your time.”

His tone was clipped, angry, and it confused her as he turned to walk away. Mya nearly let him, but she could not stop the words that tumbled from her mouth.

“Did you do something to that stableman?”

Again, Erik froze. His fists balled, clenched, then extended. She could see the tension in each movement, yet he did not answer her.

“Erik, did you do—”

“No one hurts you, Mya.”

Her mouth dropped open, then closed quickly. She sat up, holding the comforter to her chest. “But he did not hurt me. It was my fault.”

A rush of air hit her face as Erik appeared in front her, his nose mere centimeters from hers. His eyes were controlled, cold, dangerous, and it made something in her want something she could not name.

When he spoke, his voice was low, hoarse, drowning in some sort of emotion that made her heart pound and goosebumps snake up her skin.

“He did hurt you. Whether he meant to or not makes no difference to me. That is inexcusable,” Erik hissed. “He dared to speak to you when he should not have, and by doing so he hurt you. No one hurts what is min—”

Erik took a deep breath and closed his eyes, attempting to settle his anger. His body shuddered as if he was forcing himself back from an invisible ledge. With another breath he centered himself, peered into her eyes, and said in a deep, controlled tone, “No one hurts what falls under my care.”

“The men are not allowed to speak to me?” Mya whispered.

“Correct. They may not speak to you, touch you, or pay attention to you unless completely necessary.”

She bit her lip and forced herself to swallow. His control should have felt restrictive. She should have been angry with him, she should have told him she could take care of herself, but instead she felt her skin growing warm as a thrumming began between her thighs and her core grew damp. For a single moment Mya worried she may have gotten her cycle early, but this was not that. This feeling was pleasant, needy, something else that she had never felt before.

Erik’s eyes grew darker, the black pupils bleeding over into his normal silver and making them appear gray at the edges. He inhaled as if he were smelling something, tasting the air. His breath grew labored, and a small part of his fang extended beyond his lips.

“Are you not mad at me?” he asked, his voice deeper than she had ever heard it.

Mya shook her head.

“Tell me why,” he murmured as he leaned closer to her body, nearly eliminating the distance. He grabbed hold of her hair, twirling it between his fingers while his eyes roamed over her face, drinking in her every expression.

She bit her lip again, her eyes flickering away from his and falling back to his red lips. “I … appreciate your protection, I suppose.”

He hummed, then nodded. “Then I will tell you what I did to the stableman. I stalked him until he was running scared for his life. Then I tore off his head, drained his body of most of its blood, and fed his useless corpse to the pigs. His family will receive a large dowry for his reported accidental death, and none will be the wiser.”

She gasped in shock, but the horror she should have felt was missing. Instead, a thrill of pleasure flew through her at how far Erik would go for her. His violence, his protection, made her feel treasured, cherished, reveled in.

“Tell me, Mya, does it scare you that I can be so callous? So cold and brutal?” he taunted.

Her heart felt as though it was going to pound out of her chest, and she grabbed onto his arm for support. His skin was warmer than usual, muscles bunched as he fisted her hair, drawing her head back slightly until she was staring straight into his eyes again. She answered him breathlessly, honestly.

“No.”

“Why?” he crooned, and it was as if he was dragging the answer out of her, tearing it from the very depths of her soul.

She licked her suddenly dry lips, wrestling with the emotions he laid bare within her. Mya swallowed, paused, and on a shaky breath said, “Because I know you. I have watched you. I see you for who you are, and I love you and all that you are.”

His fingers danced along her scalp sending tingles down her spine, and she whispered, “I am safe with you.”

He smiled, his fangs fully protruding now. “Yes, you are, fagr skjaldmær min.”

With that Erik inhaled once more and clenched his jaw. Then he stood, and with each step he tugged something open in her, something raw and vicious. Then he paused, his hand on the doorknob, and without turning he said, “Should you face another issue with anyone, the staff, a stranger—”

“I will tell you,” she said.

He nodded stiffly as he stood on the threshold. “Goodnight, Mya.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

His answer was a curt nod before he left her room.

Read Chapter 2 for free or Get the book here!