Chapter 57 His Past (1)

The carriage was dark. Covered in black fabric, it was dimly lit by an oil lamp that hung on the inside. The curtains of the window were open during the, letting the moon rays filter in. Emma was once again mesmerized by the beautiful scenery that went past her.

She was glued to the glass window as she watched soft snow falling. She had perched her legs up and rolled into a corner, watching the darkness on the outside. It was the snow that caught her attention. The way it flew past the window, shining in the dim light of a lamp that dangled from the ceiling.

While she watched outside, Lazarus was watching her. When she shivered a little, he picked up fur from the side and covered her with it.

She blushed and murmured a soft "Thank you." Her gaze drifted back to the snow but soon her eyes became droopy as sleep beckoned her. Her eyes drifted to Lazarus and her blush became deeper. She stared at him with all his muscles and stern harshness, with something lurking in the depths of his red eyes. It was bleak like a small wound right in front of her, but it was only for a second and then he shut it away entirely.

Her eyes shut close and she slumbered off. She curled up further, feeling cold. Perhaps the blizzard had started. She jerked her eyes open sensing the carriage had stopped, but she was swiftly pulled in his embrace. He curled his arms around her as he tucked her in the fur and lifted his legs up to put them on the seat in the front for her to sprawl if she liked. She let out a moan at his warmth and closed her eyes. She inhaled his scent and wondered why he cared for her so much when he was going to cast her soul out.

"Why did you take me to Samhain instead of Maeve?" she asked softly in a sleepy voice, not wanting to know the answer of the question but to have a conversation with him.

"Why do you care?" he said, sensing there was more to this than he was letting on.

"I do feel that Maeve is…" she said lazily. "She is up to something… dangerous, and it is not related to you."

"Are you trying to protect me from the clutches of Goddess Maeve?" His jaw became tight as his voice dropped to iciness that suggested that her words offended him.

"No," she shrugged. "It's just my observation. Why would I care when I already know that my efforts to sway you in my direction are piss poor?" She looked out, ignoring him completely. "But I feel that she kind of stands in the shadows, always watching you and… me."

A long silence stretched between them as the carriage started to roll on the dirt road. She heard the hooves of horses on the wet ground and wondered what it would be to ride on a horse. She had never ridden on one.

When her gaze drifted back to his protective arms, she said, "I wanted to ask a question."

He smirked. "That's a surprise."

She shot him a glare and asked, ignoring his sarcasm. "Why did your father send your mother to the blood forest?" She wanted to know his past wondering if she could manipulate him using it.

Lazarus stiffened as a muscle ticked in his jaw. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke. "My mother was my father's mate." He took a ragged breath as if a fresh wound was opened.

Something inside her told her that he needed to vent it out. Like he needed his escape as much as she needed it. But he had way too many burdens on his shoulders. His fingers roamed inside the fur and came to her thighs. Slowly the skirt came up and they grazed the lower swells of her breasts. She found herself arching in the desire if the vampire as lust pounded in her veins.

She was unable to think straight when his hands caressed the shape of her breasts and grazed past over her nipples. There was no one in the carriage beside them and she felt like she was free at this moment. The irony wasn't wasted on her. She took a shaky breath when his finger carved a line between her breasts as they set fire in her blood.

"Then why did he kill her?" she asked, glancing up at his chin to meet his red gaze. Every aggression that was built between them, faded. He tipped his head so low that if she licked her lips, she would have brushed his. Instead of his kiss, it was his words that brushed against her mouth.

"His lust for power was greater than his want for his mate."

"Well, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," she commented, her voice laced with bitterness. "Aren't you doing the same thing?"

"Stop it," he growled as his finger dug in her breast. She shot him a glare.

He hesitated again before speaking up. "My father tortured his mate, Queen Adara after I was born. He wasn't expecting her to give an heir because he wanted to be the king of Wilyra forever. My mother was a pure-blooded vampire and giving birth among pure-blooded vampires is… rare. So, when she conceived me, she hid her pregnancy." His voice seemed to come from a distance.

Emma's attention was rapt. She didn't even dare to breathe, lest the rhythm broke. This was the first time he was opening to her.

He continued to speak in the same manner. "She ran to Vilinski when her bump started showing on the pretext that she was not feeling well. The weather of Vilinski suits us. When she returned, she had a baby boy in her arms. She thought that her husband would melt after seeing his son, but Viktor became angry. He became so angry that he snatched the one-month-old child from my mother and threw her in the dungeons."

"My mother cried and cried her heart out because she was still milking."

Emma stifled a gasp as misery surged through her.