Lair of Beasts [Book I in the Curse Of Blood Saga]

The chill of Nørrdragor Castle seeped into Aria's bones, a familiar adversary in the long, drawn-out Nordic winters. Tonight, however, the cold within the vast bedchamber felt less about the weather and more about the man who was now her husband.

Lucian. The name felt strange on her tongue, even stranger in her mind. Her maid, Astrid, had done her best to warm the room, lighting two fresh tapers and coaxing a hearty crackle from the hearth, but no fire could banish the dread that settled heavy in Aria's breast.

She sat on a low stool before the fireplace, her nervous tears blurring the dancing flames. Her hands, needing constant occupation, worked to comb out her long, black hair, feigning a calm she did not possess. Her knee bounced rhythmically, a wild drumbeat echoing the frantic pulse of her heart. She waited, listening to the muffled carousing from the great hall below, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence in their room. Still, he stayed away. The rushlights burned down, marking the relentless passage of time.