💥 This is a rough draft and is unedited. Each word is battle-born. Read at your own risk, be kind, and enjoy.

Image created with Wonder (character inspiration)

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🫦 Read with caution. Vikings and spiciness ahead.

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Sylas Episode: “Tru”

Pulling the tent flap back, I stare inside. Tru sits by the fire, watching its flames as he waits for me. He’s regal and lithe. Not built like a warrior, but something fragile, something beautiful—pure and untouched by this heathenish world. Only, there is nothing further from the truth because, as my vessel, Tru is the fuel that keeps me sated and this war raging between the lands.

Stepping inside, I notice the wine jug on the table beside him is full; I can smell the fermented fruit permeating the air, settled and untouched.

“You have been waiting for so long,” I say quietly, unclasping my cloak. “Yet you do not drink.” The noise from camp is muffled as the tent swishes closed behind me. “You know I wish for you to be comfortable when I feed.” Draping my furs over the seat at my drafting table, I watch him, thoughtful, and remove my leather jerkin next.

I’ve never found a man so enticing, nor one so calming. Then again, I’ve never wanted to sink my teeth into a living being more badly than I do in this moment, either. Nor have I craved the peace I know it will bring me. My body hardens, the bloodlust filling each of my veins with desire and anticipation. Everything about today—about being here in the borderlands—leaves me restless.

Tru peers over his shoulder at me. His long dark lashes descend with a bashful blink, and he offers me a hint of a smile. “I know you dislike the taste of anything in my blood,” he says easily.

Pulling my tunic off so as not to stain it with blood, I drop it where I stand.

Tru’s gaze shifts down my body before he meets my eyes. I see it in his expression and smell it pouring out of him in waves—a potent, unequivocal desire, and it makes my cock rock-hard and my body greedily awaits what it’s about to receive. And that Tru gains some pleasure out of the lonely existence as my vessel gives me a small sense of comfort.

Stepping around Tru, I crouch in front of him, feeling the fire against my bare back. Every muscle in my body is coiled and buzzing with need, but I am slow and gentle because it is Tru, and I would never hurt him. Never break him. And I yearn for that thread of control as much as I need to feed from him, putting everything in an intricate but sustainable balance.

I don’t know what it is about this human, but the softness in his eyes calms the disquiet that has always accompanied feeding time.

His amber-colored eyes shift over my face and a strange sadness furrows his brow ever so slightly. I frown.

Reaching up, I cup the side of his face. Caring this way about a man doesn’t feel like a broken vow because it will never be what it was with Milla. Instead, it is a means for survival. A friendship as deep as I have with the Darkborn, if a bit different, for my vessel and I are forever tied together in the most intimate way.

Tru’s blood runs through my body. It feeds the hungry depths of me, giving me life. His essence is my own, filling all of my senses. So Tru’s desire thrums through me as much as his heartache. “What troubles you this night?” I whisper.

Tru looks away. “You will go to war again.” He peers down at the hem of his tunic. “You say you cannot die,” he continues, “and perhaps that is true, but you feel pain. You always feel pain, and I hate that for you.”

“As do the other Darkborn, yet you do not worry about them? About Thorne?” I tease him, hoping to lift the heavy moment.

Tru scoffs. “It might do Thorne some good to fear for his life once in a while,” he grumbles.

I smile in agreement, but Tru’s features harden and he tugs his tunic off his slender shoulder, and pulls out his arm to feed me. “They will come for you soon,” he says in a clipped tone. “You should feed.”

Was it only a dozen winters ago I was on the brink of madness, unable to sate my hunger? Now, I crouch in front of a man, concerned his feelings for me are too strong after so long together, because they can never be reciprocated the way he wishes them to be, even if I care for him in a way I cannot put into words. What sort of cruel existence is that for him?

“Come to the bed.” Rising to my feet, I take his hand.

“My lord?” Tru peers up at me, confusion wild in his wide gaze since I have never fed from him like that. But tonight feels fragile, like we’re in a delicate balance that needs care and comfort.

“You will need sleep afterward,” I explain. Gently, I tug him to his feet and lead him to my bed. His heartbeat races and the sound of his pulse pounds in my ears like a war drum. “And we have a long journey ahead of us.”

Tru blinks at me as I pull the furs back so he can lie down.

“A journey?”

“Yes. We travel with Lucian to Finfjord after the battle. So, I command you to stay in this bed, Tru,” I say more forcefully. “You will be warmer here. You will be safe. Am I understood?”

Nodding, Tru lays back against the goose down pillow, swallowing thickly as I pull up a stool beside the bed.

Laying his bare arm on the furs, our gazes linger on one another before I clear my throat. “Thank you for your offering.”

“Yes, my lord.” It’s a croak and locking eyes with Tru, I lift his arm toward my mouth.

There is no way around the intimacy of feeding. I have never fed from his neck, nor will I, but the scent of his skin chips away at my resolve. The feel of his warm arm in my chilly hands feels like fire in my palm, awakening every coiled, overwrought inch of my body in need of release. I learned long ago to embrace the euphoria as much as what’s left of my soul will allow. And this is it.

Running my nose along the vein in his arm, I inhale and lick the tender flesh in the crook of his elbow, and suck the soft skin before sinking my fangs into the supple flesh.

Tru moans, and my cock twitches. My heart thuds with power as I drag his blood deeper into my mouth. It coats my tongue and throat as it seeps into my ravenous body. It’s intoxicating and only remotely do I feel Tru’s body shift.

I suck harder, groaning as the warmth of him fills every inch of me. It enlivens every sense and heated velvet wraps around the cold parts of me, making my body hum, flaring a painful vitality that needs release.

With only my hand to sate my sex for so many winters, coming is never enough, and in the throes of bloodlust is no exception. Tru’s arousal coursing through me, thick and tantalizing in his blood and scent.

I need to fuck. But I won’t.

I want to. But I never do.

I never will.

I physically can’t.

“Let go, my lord,” Tru whispers. His hand skims over my knee and down my thigh, and my body pulses, vibrating and begging for release as I thrust my bulging cock into his palm, agitated by this impossible situation I grow tired of navigating.

“I wish you to feel no pain.” He squeezes my cock in my pants, a jolt of pure lust rushing through me. His heated palm and the pressure of his grip make me growl with yearning, and it’s all I can do to refrain from mounting him, claiming him as mine in every possible way.

But I am someone else’s. The thought is assaulting, grating over my skin and blaring painfully in my head, plaguing me as always. Fuck!

I snarl in frustration, grabbing Tru’s hand, still coaxing my cock, and pull it away with bruising pressure. He tries to pull his wrist from my grip, and I growl in warning, taking his blood deeper, sucking harder to sate the growing hunger. My mind swirls with agitation, my thoughts eroded with a need that will never be fulfilled.

“My lord?” Thorne’s voice is low and cautious as it carries in from outside, and the pulsing need to fuck recedes only slightly. I unhinge my mouth from Tru’s arm, gaze locked on his. Whatever my expression, Tru’s eyes widen slightly with terror.

“Sylas—”

“Give me a fucking moment!” I growl. When my nostrils flare, Tru exhales and tugs both his arms from my grasp.

Twigs snap as Thorne steps away from my tent, and I run my hand over my face and down my mouth, wiping the blood away. My body is a tempest over a calm sea—sated and yet vibrating with raw energy I’m desperate to expel.

“Never do that again, Tru,” I grind out as I squeeze my eyes shut. I palm the ache in my pants, willing my body’s impulses away. The lingering need hurts like hell, and with no time for release, I tell myself it is fuel for tonight’s battle.

Forcing my eyes open again, I look at Tru. “Do you understand?” My voice is ragged.

He nods, licking his dry lips nervously. “Apologies, my lord. I only wanted to—”

“Help.” I shake my head. “You mustn’t.”

His chest rises and falls and I know I’ve hurt him, or perhaps frightened him, but I cannot allow that again. “You say you do not want to hurt me,” I explain, softening my voice. “But whatever this curse—” I shake my head. “Breaking my vow physically hurts me, more than any blade in my chest ever could.”

Tru blinks at me.

“Do you understand?”

Again, he nods, and this time, I think he truly does.

Rising to my feet, I adjust my throbbing cock with a groan. My body is so hard with power it hurts.

Ready to kill and maim and wreak havoc on Blackhorn, I take Tru’s arm, lick the blood from his wounds so they will close, and pull the furs that had fallen off him over his body once more. “Stay and sleep. Tonight, I kill Blackhorn and everything he holds dear.”

There’s more Darkborn coming next week!

Until next week….

xo, Lindsey (and Scarlet)

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