Nyrielle wasted no time in sweeping Ashlynn off her feet. In the vampire's powerful arms, the shorter woman weighed the same as a feather. Despite her outward confidence, however, Nyrielle felt an unfamiliar flutter in her chest.
For centuries, she had maintained careful control over her emotions, keeping others at arm's length. Even before she'd succeeded her grandsire, Torbin, she'd been marked as special because of her birth.
As a True Vampire, she was expected to stand above others, to be served by her progeny, and to command the people of the Vale of Mists.
She'd built walls around her heart, especially after the death of her parents. Those walls helped shield her from pain and loss over the centuries by keeping everyone away from her innermost self.
But with Ashlynn, those walls were crumbling. As she carried the young witch through the castle corridors, Nyrielle marveled at the warmth spreading through her usually cold body.
