Some distance from the village, I leaned too far forward, trying to avoid contact. My balance shifted, the world spinning around me. My hands desperately reached for the horse’s mane, but it was too late. I was falling—

A firm arm snapped around me, catching me before I could hit the ground. Raphael’s hand clamped over my stomach, fingers spread he like he was locking me in place. The horse didn’t miss so much as a step as the vampire deftly maneuvered the reins with just one hand.

My stomach flipped, and not from nearly falling.

“You can let me go,” I said quickly. “I’m fine.”

“You nearly cracked your head falling.” He sighed. “Humans. So… breakable.”

“I’d rather take my chances with the ground than a vampire.” I should’ve insisted on taking the old horse. Though there was no way it could’ve managed even this pace.

“Good thing I’m not giving you the choice.”

The horse’s pace increased. I was jostled by the movement, landing even closer against Raphael. I tried to lean away, even if it made his hand press deeper into my stomach, the thin fabric of my cloak doing little to muffle the sensation. It was either feel him behind me or in front, and at least I could see his hand. Unfortunately, against an immortal vampire, I wasn’t able to do much more than put an inch between us, and even that I lost and regained every other step.

“Stop writhing like that,” Raphael said slowly, “or you’re not going to like what happens.”

“What?” I hissed, trying for anger that would mask my helplessness. “You’ll toss the breakable human off the horse?”

“No.” I could feel the grin at my back. “But you’ll soon feel the effect of you rubbing your body against mine. And given the fact you blush like a maiden when I even mention that ‘nice boy’ you stink of, you’re liable to burst into flames on the spot.”

I immediately stilled as his implication settled over me. Like a maiden. There was no like about it. Greymere wasn’t a place where one was courted. Though I had a sense of what bodily effect he was mentioning, given the crude nature of the other servants. His fingers flexed on my stomach like he was adjusting himself. No longer fighting him, I was forced to settle against his chest, keenly aware of the contours of his body against my back. And at my rear… was it his normal body? Or was he… aroused? It was hard to tell. Gods, it was impossible to even fathom. The idea I of all people could affect a vampire.

Mortifying.

But… perhaps just a little enchanting too.

The next evening brought a chill with it. It was spring, and in Eurobis that was the most fickle season. We’d had fairly warm days so far, but our luck had run out. The horse meant we had moved to open roads, which made navigating easier but left us ready targets for the wind. The cold lanced through me, no matter how tightly I wrapped my cloak.

Raphael, of course, was unaffected. Perks of being a soulless monster instead of a “breakable human.”

His arm was wrapped around me once more. It no longer felt as awkward as it had the day before—instead, it was a steady source of heat. I loathed myself for the fact I liked it. But in this weather, it was a matter of survival.

As the sun set, the last of the warmth was sapped from the air and replaced by an icy rain.

Of course. Because the cold wasn’t bad enough.

The rain started slowly, but it was enough to freeze me to my core. There was no hiding my shivering. Raphael pulled me closer. How was his undead chest warm? I leaned back, desperate for the protection from the cold. I hated seeking comfort in the vampire, but I’d hate losing my limbs to the frost more.

“We should stop for the night,” I said between clattering teeth. “There’s a shelter card. With that and a fire one, we can get warm.”

“No need.”

This close to him, I could feel the rumble of his chest as he spoke.

“Maybe you don’t need rest, but Alphonse and I do,” I insisted.

“I’m aware of your needs. It’s the smell of chimney smoke ahead that tells me we’ll find proper shelter soon.”

I should’ve apologized, but I was tired and weak. The soup from yesterday no longer warmed my bones, and the cold was taxing. We rode in silence for a moment, the sound of rain lulling me as my eyes began to shut.

“Alphonse is the horse?” Raphael prodded, not letting my earlier words drop.

I started to shrug against him, then forced my shoulders down. This close to the vampire, it was best to avoid any more movement than absolutely necessary, based on yesterday’s comments. “I figured he could use a name.”

“It’s just a horse.” His words weren’t exactly judgmental. More puzzled.

“And I’m just a void.” A void to a vampire was probably the same as a horse to a human: powerless, mortal, too quick to die. “But I have a name all the same. And so should Alphonse.”

My head began to tip forward, but Raphael spoke again, jolting me from any sleep. I knew it wasn’t good to sleep in these conditions, not when I was this cold, but it was difficult to keep myself awake.

“I take it names are important to you, Samara.”

Samara. My lips twisted, repeating my own name. “You want to know something sad?”

“I wish to know all your thoughts,” Raphael said quietly. Or at least, that’s what I thought Raphael said. With the rain and the siren call of sleep beckoning me, who could be sure?

There was no reason to tell the vampire my private thoughts. If I’d been more aware, I wouldn’t have. But something about being so close, his body sheltering me from the rain without seeing those unnerving eyes, made me feel almost safe. “You’re the only one who’s said my full name since I was a little girl.” At Greymere, as the only female servant, my sex had become my name. Girl. Lazy girl. Slow girl. Ugly girl. I frowned. “In fact, everyone who knew me as a child… they’ve forgotten me by now, I’m sure.”

Anyone who knew you’s forgotten you exist. Even from beyond the grave, Nelson’s words taunted me.

There was something almost gentle in the vampire’s voice as he said, “Not your parents.”

“My mother’s dead.” Frost followed the cold words from my mouth.

Wisely, Raphael didn’t ask about my father.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “No one deserves to be forgotten. If it’s any reassurance, Samara, I intend to live a very long life. And I will not forget you for any of it.”

A vampire who remembered me. It was the stuff of nightmares.

But it eased the tightness in my throat all the same.

“Do you… have people who are missing you?” I asked.

He loosed a wry laugh. “Oh, I imagine there’s a few.”

Of course he did. He was strong, confident. Humorous at times, though I couldn’t quite appreciate it. And attractive too, if I looked past those awful eyes and fangs—which around other vampires would probably be considered a good thing—with those broad shoulders and beautiful face. Who wouldn’t want to know his name?

I envied a vampire. That was a new low. “I guess living so long, you have time to make a lot of friends.”

At this, his laugh was more genuine. “A lot of enemies too. But in truth, my friends are few. When you live as long as I have… you have little patience for falsehoods, and the fickleness of friendship. Or at least the weak imitation most offer. But those that are true friends, whose bonds we’ve sealed in blood, I cherish them. I carry their names with me as they carry mine, even when we don’t see each other for many years.”

I shivered again. The sudden closeness from our conversation was unnerving. Worse was the fact I had the irrational urge to ask him more about his home. In some ways, it sounded similar to the way I’d grown up, before Greymere. Not that I’d had any true friends.