The Vampire’s Fake Fiancée
She did a little spin and as she got halfway around, he grabbed her shoulders and held her in place so that he could look at her back. “What the—” He whistled. “Unbelievable. I never would have imagined you’d have something like that.”
Every detail of the sword marked on her skin was perfect from the hilt that started at the base of her neck to the blade that shot down her spine to disappear beneath the gown’s white silk. Even the metal seemed to gleam under the light of the room, but that was surely just his eyes playing tricks on him.
She trembled under his touch. “What are you talking about?”
“This tattoo.” He let her go to run a finger down her back, but as he made contact she whipped around and out of his reach.
She faced him, breathing hard and looking very much like she might bolt. “You can see that?”
“How could I not? It’s life size, isn’t it? I’ll say, for someone with your history, that’s an interesting choice of artwork.” And proof that they definitely needed more time to get to know each other.
“It wasn’t a choice.” She took a few steps back, eyes flashing with emotions he couldn’t decipher. “And you shouldn’t be able to see it.”
There was no way, no way, Sebastian should be able to see the sword on her back. That was ancient Norse magic available only to valkyrie and berserker eyes. And yet, he clearly saw it. How else could he comment on it? He didn’t know her sword’s location. Unless he’d seen Jenna pull her sword. That was possible. Every valkyrie and berserker carried their weapon in the same place.
On their spine.
Whatever the reason he could see it, the fact rocked her to know that he’d laid eyes on this very personal part of her. It made her very afraid that he might never see her the same way again.
Sebastian looked completely confounded. “What do you mean it wasn’t a choice? And why would you have a tattoo that no one can see?”
“Because I was born with it. All valkyries and berserkers are.”
“So it’s the mark of your people?”
“Essentially, yes.” And not one she was proud of anymore.
“What does it mean that I can see it?”
She sat on the bed and tucked her hands under her thighs. “I don’t know.” Then remembering her long-ago lessons, she looked up. “You’re technically undead, right?”
“Not technically. I am. The turning requires physical death of the body. It’s why some don’t survive it.”
She pulled her hands free to rest her head in them. “That’s it. It has to be. It’s said valkyries and berserkers on the battlefields can be recognized by the dead they’ve been sent to collect.” She lifted her head. “That would mean all vampires can see our weapons. I’ve never heard of that, but maybe Jenna knows. She didn’t abandon her training like I did. I’ll have to call her.”
Tessa sucked in a breath. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“If all vampires can see it, that means your family will be able to see it at the wedding. I can’t do this.” Maybe she could wear a shawl.
“Tessa, I promise you, they won’t care. Wait—did you just call your tattoo a weapon?”
She sighed. She might as well tell him the whole truth. He was about to be her husband. And she’d already told him part of the story. “It’s not a tattoo. Well, it is. But it’s more than that. It’s genuinely a sword. My sword.”
His gaze narrowed. “I don’t see how that’s possible, but then I’m a vampire and I shouldn’t be possible. This is the magic of your kind, I suppose.”
“It is.” And maybe that was the end of it. Maybe his family really would understand. They were vampires, after all. She smoothed her dress out over her lap. “I should finish getting ready.”
“Is that why you didn’t want to show it to me? Because you didn’t want me to know it was part of you?”
“Yes.” His understanding made her feel a little better.
“So show it to me now.”
She rubbed at the scar on her knuckles. It was the second time he’d asked. For a man who collected weaponry the way he did, he must be dying to see it. “I don’t know.” Except she did know. There was no way she wanted to hold that weapon again.
“Please.”
“I…I haven’t drawn my sword since that day.” She glanced at the scar before meeting his eyes again. “I just can’t.”
He nodded but there was disappointment in his gaze. “I understand.”
She wasn’t sure he did. She got to her feet. “What that sword represents to me isn’t something I’m keen to revisit. I promised myself I’d never draw it again. Not after the last time. Not after what I almost did.”
He smiled. It seemed a little indulgent and didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I understand. I really do. If you haven’t draw it since that day, you certainly shouldn’t do it now. I’ll leave you to get ready. I can change in the closet. Won’t take me a second. I’ll be in my office after that. Still waiting on the paperwork.”
She smiled back, but it felt as if something had been lost between them. “If you really want me to take the sword out, I will.” She reached back and her fingers grazed the hilt. She winced at the feel of the hilt beneath her hand and the buzz of anticipation that zipped through the weapon and into her like a small electrical charge.