Lover Mine

Lover Mine



Prologue

The Bloodletter’s War Camp, Old Country, 1644

He wished he had more time.

Although for truth, what would that change? Time only mattered if one did something with it and he had done what he could herein.

Darius, son of Tehrror, sat on a dirt floor with his diary open on his knee and a beeswax candle in front of him. His illumination was naught but the small flame that swayed in a draft and his room was the far corner of a cave. His clothing was made from rough, battle-read leather, and his boots were of the same construction.

In his nose, the stench of male sweat and pungent earth mingled with the sweet, death-decay of lesser’s blood.

Each breath he took seemed to magnify the stink.

Flipping through the parchment pages, he went back in time, reversing the days one by one until he was no longer here at the war camp.

He longed for “home” with a physical ache, his sojourn in this camp an amputation, rather than a relocation.

He had been raised in a castle where elegance and grace had been the very fabric of life. Within the stout walls that had protected his family from humans and lessers alike, every night had been as warm and sweet smelling as those of July, the time passing with ease and leisure. The fifty rooms through which he had oft wandered had been appointed with satins and silks, and furniture made of precious woods, and woven rugs, not rushes. With oil paintings that glowed in their gilt frames, and marble statuary affecting dignified poses, it was a platinum setting to anchor a diamond existence.

And so it would have been unfathomable then that he would ever find himself where he was now. There had been, however, a vital weakness in the foundation of that life of his.

The beating heart of his mother had given him his right to be under that roof and held within that cosseted hearth. When the loving, vital organ had stopped within her breast, Darius had lost not only his birthed mahmen, but the only home he had ever known.

His stepfather had cast him out and relegated him herein, an enmity long-hidden thus exposed and acted upon.

There had been no time to mourn his mother. No time to puzzle over the abrupt hatred of the male who had all but sired him. No time to pine for the identity he’d had as a male of good breeding within the glymera.

He had been dropped here at this cave like a human who had succumbed to the plague. And the battles had begun a’fore he ever saw a lesser or began training to fight the slayers. In his first night and day within this belly of the camp, he had been attacked by fellow trainees who viewed his fine clothing, the only set he’d been permitted to take with him, as evidence he was a dandy.

He had surprised not only them, but himself during those dark hours.

From the book LOVER MINE by J.R. Ward. Copyright © 2010 by J.R. Ward.