Free Seized by the Vampire Lord (Dark Lords) by Jaide Fox

arresting to her … it was sorrow.
     
    It explained his intrigue with her, his amusement.  But he’d stopped being amused when she’d lied to him, and she feared that would never change.  She’d lost something she hadn’t realized she wanted—his trust.
     
    Trust broken could not be regained.  Cerise stood up from the table, intent on going to bed.  She would have to find some way to leave, and soon.
     
    She’d lost the fear for her life, but now she feared something far worse, and she dared not even think its name.
     
    Tomorrow, she would go to the kitchens and get the supplies she needed.  At last, she had a plan with a chance of succeeding.
     
    * * * *
     
     
    It was now or never.
     
    Cerise hefted the bag on her shoulder, gathering her courage to face the trial before her.  It could be that she would die this day, but she rather hoped not.
     
    She slowly turned the knob, cracked the door open, and peered outside.  Three, huge hell hounds were gathered in a circle, their heads to the ground, devouring the pile of meat she’d thrown out to them.
     
    She stepped outside, holding her breath, praying.  One of the hounds lifted its head, sniffed in her direction, and went back to eating.
     
    Cerise wanted to jump for joy.  It worked!  They were just hungry!
     
    She moved beyond the safety of the door, tiptoeing cautiously around them.  At the rate they were going, they’d have the pile devoured within a few minutes.  She backed away, turning slowly toward the courtyard gate.  It looked miles away from her perspective, but she knew she could make it.
     
    She walked a little away from the dogs, reached into her bag, and dropped more packages of meat on the ground.  She didn’t think they minded the paper wrapping.
     
    Hoping that would hold them, she continued on slowly, glancing back every few minutes to make certain they were still occupied.  They’d already started on the second pile and, from the way they were snapping at each other, it was almost gone.
     
    Cerise dumped more meat on the ground and walked a little faster.  She could make out a few details of the gate now, namely that it was imposing, probably locked, and would take a considerable amount of effort to climb.
     
    The snarls behind her grew louder, sending chills up her spine.  She glanced over her shoulder and saw that they’d begun on the meat and were close to gobbling it up.  She reached into her bag and felt the bottom of it.  Alarm rose quickly to panic.
     
    She dumped it out, seeing only a few bites of meat for those great, greedy maws.  Her heart jumped to her throat and stuck, choking her.  She was only halfway across the courtyard—too far from the gate to run, too far from the house to make it to safety.
     
    Cerise backed away from the meat.  She didn’t want to pass the hounds again.  Her legs froze, refusing to move.  She had to get back inside, without running and drawing their attention.
     
    Feeling lightheaded from her rapid breathing, she’d only made it a few steps back toward the castle when one of the dogs howled.  The hair rose on the back of her neck.  She stopped mid-step, wondering if now would be a good time to run.
     
    “What are you doing out here?” a familiar voice spoke behind her.
     
    Cerise whirled around, relief flooding her as Daegon strode toward her, the tails of his coat billowing out in a sudden wind.  His look was thunderous, his brow furrowed in anger.  He snapped his fingers, almost as an afterthought, and the dogs trotted away. 
     
    Cerise was too giddy with relief to care that he was angry.  When he stopped a few feet from her, she closed the distance, collapsing in his arms. “Daegon,” she said breathlessly, feeling reason and calm return as he stroked her back in soothing circles.
     
    “You didn’t answer my question, my dear,” he said, his voice deceptively cold.
     
    She pulled back and stepped away, looking at him, realizing he was furious.