Free Blood Redemption by Tessa Dawn Page A

really wrong.
    Napolean Mondragon was the embodiment of a noble king, an unshakable warrior, and
     a hardened ruler—nothing fazed the 2,800-year-old male, and there was no challenge
     he did not meet head-on. Only now, he looked more like an angry tiger than the king
     of the Vampyr. Almost robotically, he reached out a second time and took the princess’s
     wrist. His grip was softer, almost hesitant in nature, but his searching fingers revealed
     his confusion. He traced the celestial etchings and lines with disbelief. And then
     he slowly exhaled, his face a mask of both sorrow and determination. “I am so sorry,
     Princess…for this.”
    Vanya drew back in immediate alarm this time. “For what?” she asked. Whatever could this mean? “Napolean? What is it—why are you so upset?” Surely, he wasn’t angry because
     she might belong to another male, not now, when he had Brooke. She began to lose her
     patience then. “I demand that you tell me at once, milord.” When he still didn’t speak,
     she raised her voice. “Say something, Napolean; you’re scaring me!”
    Napolean met her eyes with a steely gaze and held up both hands in an act of contrition.
     It was as if he were apologizing and trying to calm her down at the same time. His
     lips parted, as if he were about to speak, but then he obviously thought better of
     it and looked away. Eventually, he planted his feet and squared his broad shoulders,
     and when, at last, he met her gaze again, there was a hard, unyielding resolve in
     his eyes. His jaw was set in a hard line, and his sculpted lips were drawn taut. “Do
     not be afraid,” he whispered. “Everything is going to be fine. You will not be mated
     under this Blood Moon, and nothing adverse will happen to you as a consequence. I
     won’t let it.” He shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly and added, “This may be
     a rough thirty days—indeed, it will be a difficult thirty days for many—but your life will not be changed.”
    Vanya was just about to respond when a beautiful, tall brunette with long, purposeful
     strides and stunning sapphire eyes approached the two of them, her limber hands working
     feverishly to finish tying the knot on the heavy white bathrobe she was wearing. Her
     feet were clad in soft slippers, and her hair was mussed from sleep. “So, you have
     already sealed the fate of so many?” she said. Her voice was soft but challenging.
     “You have unilaterally decided that the gods are wrong and you need to overrule them?”
    Napolean took her full measure. “Brooke, you shouldn’t be out in this cold.”
    Brooke frowned and shrugged off his words. “Neither should you. Neither should Vanya.
     But that’s neither here nor there.” She bit her bottom lip while considering her words.
     “I was in our room, waiting for you to check on the princess, waiting to talk a bit
     more about the Blood Moon and the male…” Her voice trailed off, and then she cleared
     her throat. “And then I started thinking about the Curse, the necessity of proximity,
     and I put two and two together.” Her eyes were full of a deep compassion as they swept
     briefly downward over Vanya’s wrist. “I thought you might need me.”
    By all the gods, it was still hard to witness the undeniable love and rightness of
     Brooke and Napolean’s union. The king swallowed hard and nodded at his mate. “Thank
     you.”
    Brooke declined her head in a gesture that could only be described as stately; and
     then she turned her attention to the princess. “Hi, Vanya.”
    Vanya regarded the beautiful mate of the Vampyr lord with a slight nod of her head
     and tried to maintain at least some semblance of dignity under the circumstances.
     “Greetings, milady.”
    Brooke’s expression became all at once serious. “How are you?”
    Vanya frowned. “Well, isn’t that the question…” She eyed Napolean warily. “I don’t
     really know. Perhaps someone would like to tell me what’s going