Elijah started to argue, but there was no point. The spell had failed, and Ysabelle certainly had no control over the finer points of supernatural land ownership. His wounds itched as they healed, and it only added to his annoyance.

“We cannot change what was done or not done,” Ysabelle went on. “Now that I understand the problem, I can see what ingredient we were missing. It will not be simple to get, but it will make the protection spell work for you.”

Elijah raised his head, intrigued. “Out with it,” he snapped. It would serve her well to remember that she had just failed him, even if it wasn’t entirely her fault. A little fear was a powerful motivator, and an angry vampire was a frightening sight.

Ysabelle licked her lips nervously, but her voice did not falter. “You need the blood of a pack member,” she explained. “A Navarro werewolf.” Elijah didn’t think his problems could get worse, but suddenly they had. How the hell was he going to pull that off?

Her words hung in the air as she slid her hand out of the dry earth, brushing it off against her dress. It left a dark, dusty mark on the creamy fabric that stood out as starkly as blood. “More than a drop, although not enough to kill. But I suspect killing may yet be the only way to obtain it, and that will put you in a very precarious position before we can get the protection spell in place.”

Elijah frowned. He was so close, and there had to be a way to overcome this setback. This one last obstacle could also be the easiest if Elijah kept an eye out for the right opportunity. Werewolves hunted, after all, and accidents happened in the woods. The moon was only a day away from full, so he could not hesitate. “Leave it to me,” he told her, and saw Ysabelle’s square shoulders slump in relief. “I will get the blood tomorrow night. Be ready to perform the spell again by the time the sun rises in two days, and wait for me here.”

After he took blood from a werewolf, every second would count to get the spell in place.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“TAKE ALL THE time you need,” Eric urged her, pulling out her chair chivalrously. “We will speak about whatever you choose, and also...not.”

He had said variations of the same thing so many times since his unexpected proposal that Rebekah knew it must be driving him absolutely mad that she had not yet answered him. But she wasn’t looking forward to his expression when she said no.

She could still feel the heat of his lips on hers; she could still hear the passion in his voice when he had asked her to marry him. She had given him every reason to believe that she returned his feelings, and the truth was that she did. Which only made what she had to tell him more painful.

“Thank you,” she said instead, sitting at the beautifully laid table. “You must know how flattered I am, but I appreciate having this time to think.” It was difficult to believe that it’d only been a day since their ride into the countryside. Every moment she waited to give him her answer felt like another day in itself.

His love pressed right in the center of her pain. She wanted to marry him. If only they could ride off together into another life and dedicate themselves to nothing but making each other happy, and she could leave her tortured past behind.

Sooner or later, though, he would likely notice that she didn’t age. And Mikael would not stop hunting her just because she chose to stop caring, and Klaus would probably stake her even if Eric didn’t figure out her secret and do it himself. There were too many dangers and unknowns to ever accept his proposal.

But as long as he didn’t know that, then she could almost convince herself, at least for this little while, that it might be possible. And so she could not answer him.

A boy who could not have been more than fifteen brought them a crusty loaf of bread and a pitcher of acceptable red wine, and assured Eric in a hoarse whisper that their dinner would be ready at any moment.

“The camp looks almost as good as new,” Rebekah offered, to change the subject. “I heard that the armory sustained some damage, though, that will require new weaponry.”

“Yes,” Eric agreed, looking preoccupied. “We had a source of munitions in the area who has proved very useful for resolving that sort of shortage quickly, but he cannot be found. I have sent some messages up the river, and hopefully some of the other outposts are well supplied. If we have to wait for powder and cannonry from France, we may have trouble holding our position here.”

“Has it been so dangerous?” she asked curiously. Aside from the werewolf raid she had caused, the only real source of entertainment for the soldiers seemed to be the bandits they encountered during their patrols. Cannons were hardly necessary.

“We have been well-armed enough to keep the peace until now,” Eric explained. “If the word gets out that has changed, I expect the rebellious factions and criminal element in this region will grow bolder.”

He wanted overwhelming force, and Rebekah approved of the tactic. It was, after all, the same policy to which she and her brothers subscribed. They had built their legend through a surplus of brutality, and made sure they were always prepared to reinforce the lesson. It was why neither she nor Elijah had tried too hard to slow Klaus’s killing spree when they had first landed here. She believed in holding power at any cost. If Eric wanted artillery just to keep the peace, then he was the sort of man she would consider marrying.

If she could consider marrying.

She opened her mouth to tell him she would do it—damn the consequences. She wanted to be his wife. Years from now, when she hadn’t aged and he wondered why there were signs of vampire kills everywhere they went and Elijah showed up every few months to try to drag her back into the fold...well, she would just figure those problems out as they came.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Felix’s hooked nose poking through the flap of the tent, followed in a moment by his boringly handsome face. “Sir,” he whispered, as if he were close enough to speak only to Eric without Rebekah overhearing the words. “Sir, you are needed. A message has come down from Baton Rouge, an answer to our—my lady”—he seemed to notice her at last—“I am terribly sorry to interrupt, but the captain is needed at the communications post down by the river. At once, sir,” he added with a guilty glance back at Eric.

Eric sighed and rose. “I will return, Madame,” he told her formally, refraining from anything more intimate in front of his lieutenant. Felix must know by now that there was something more than politeness between them, but he just nodded impatiently, eager for Eric to go to his work. As he approached the tent’s exit, though, Eric hesitated. “Stay, please, Felix, and keep Rebekah company while I am gone.” He glanced back at her one last time.

“Yes, sir,” Felix answered smartly, saluting. “My lady.”

Felix was pleasant enough to look at, she supposed, but in no way was he an acceptable substitute for Eric. For my fiancé, she tried out in her mind, and although it sounded strange she did not dislike it.

Felix did not sit at the table with her, but instead crossed the office to rummage in one of the drawers of the large rosewood desk. “I am sorry to interrupt your dinner,” he repeated offhandedly, the main part of his attention on his search.

“It had not yet begun.” Rebekah stood. “What is it you are looking for?”

Felix frowned and closed the drawer. “It is nothing, Madame,” he assured her. “Just an item the captain will most likely want on hand when he returns. Please excuse me a moment.”

Before she could stop him, Felix stepped into the inner chamber. She waited for a surprised gasp, but none came. It made sense, she realized—as Eric’s right-hand man, Felix must have seen it all by now. That made Rebekah distinctly uncomfortable. Just how many humans in this area had heard of vampires? How long before there was nowhere in the world where they’d still be a secret?