Page 20 of Nocte

I wrench my arm away. “I would have humored you if you could give me what I wanted,” I say. Then I wince. It’s so mean. So greedy to be so transactional. My cheeks hollow, and my face goes pale. Then I remember, he isn’t fae.

“Ah, so you are one to value repayment,” he says, like a snake hissing a warning.

Too late do I realize my mistake. I’ve provoked him worse than the sight of blood on a skinned knee. He stalks forward, pushing me back.

“Do you?”

Back.

“If so, you owe me. Do you remember?”

For his rose, still tucked in a hidden corner of my room. I remember. He gave it offhandedly, with only mocking in mind. I know it.

Even so, I can’t deny…

It’s my only possession, rotting away. Petal by petal, it is all I have. Even if he demands it back…

I want to keep it.

“Do you?” His hand cradles my jaw, aiming for my throat. I feel the kiss of a nail, unnaturally sharp. He teases a vein with the tip of it, barely grazing at first… Then biting a little deeper.

I wince, breathing heavily, chest heaving. He is too close. My senses are overrun with this strange creature. It should be a bad feeling—worse than being on the wrong end of Lord Master’s wrath.

He’s too foreign to process properly. I go numb in the wake of his touch. I’m enthralled by the power of his stare. It lingers and stabs and swallows parts of me that draw his interest: my throat, my chest, the heart beating beneath. He looks at me the way the Lord Master does when eyeing the walls of the Citadel during their visits.

As if he owns every last inch.

He reaches for my hair again and I resist the urge to swat his hand away. Why? I don’t know. It’s a foreign sensation that jolts through me as he winds a dark strand around and around a twisting finger. My stomach churns. My skin heats.

He watches my reaction and he smiles. My fear excites him. Though, am I afraid? Fear is meant to be an unknown emotion to me. I live in the safety of the Citadel, what could I possibly be afraid of?

The answer: everything. I’m afraid of this quiet place, all I’ve ever known. I’m afraid of what lies beyond it. I fear the look in this vamryer’s eyes and most of all…

I’m terrified that I won’t be able to take hold of something I desperately want. I’m greedy. I want something badly enough to sin for it.

Head tilted, I say to the vamryre, “You can go outside the realm. Can’t you?”

He laughs and lowers his face to mine. Up close his beauty is searing. It’s packed into every pore, a delicate and violent mixture of strength and loveliness. He never has to think of the effect he might have on someone should they see him. He wields his beauty as dangerously as any weapon. Yet he seems careless with it, also. He doesn’t seek to sway or impress me. He doesn’t care to.

“You owe me something, little fae,” he murmurs in a low voice, ignoring my question. He heard me, though: that brief streak of irritation crossed his face. For whatever reason, the topic of leaving…aggravates him. Frustrates. “What should I take in return?”

My pulse jumps. I’m rendered frozen as he inhales my scent. His very lungs seem to pull on the air, sucking bits of myself down into him. Rather than furrow his brows in disgust he… He hums.

“Give me something worthwhile enough and perhaps I’ll enlighten you on the other realm, little bird. Give you another treat.”

Like the rose.

He’s lying. Yet I can sense that deep down he doesn’t mean to. Perhaps his master’s hold on him is far greater than he realizes. Still…

It’s something. Anything. I’ll grab hold of it, even so.

“What do you want?” I ask him. The words have scarcely left my mouth before I feel his own lips nudging the arteries straining in my throat, forcing me on tiptoe to grant him better access. I know what he wants.

“No,” I say as firmly as I can manage. “It’s forbidden.”

But so is this.

“So is this,” he grates out through clenched teeth as if I’ve become one of his collective and he can read my thoughts as easily.

---