Page 22 of Nocte

And for once, I almost forget my greedy hope in favor of another mystery. What exactly did he take?

And why do I feel so empty without it?

CHAPTER6

Caspian

She’s waiting for me tonight, my little fae. I can smell her full of hope and innocent glee. She thinks she got something from me the other night.

She didn’t. Her quest is meaningless, her curiosity pointless. The other realms hold no interest. No interest.

It’s Cassius who tells me that—who insists it. Over and over, he inserts himself, growing louder the closer I come to her.Ignore. Stay away. Remember, Caspian.Usually, his anger toward me is minor amusement at my resistance. He enjoys it.

But when I kissed that little fae…

He grew enraged then. He hated me.

Good, because I willalwayshate him.

You don’t,he tells me as I spy the fae lurking on her rooftop.You love me. You are loyal. My Caspian—Mine!

Not by choice.

But she is mine, all mine, and oh, how he hates it. He can’t touch her, but I can. He can only force me to kiss him and the others—others who need to be lured to him and placated with false fantasies of what immortal life will be like. Lies upon lies. Shielding himself from their regret is why he never collects new toys himself.

Except once.You, he murmurs at the back of my skull, the lurking snake.Only you, my Caspian. You were special enough to draw my eye as no one else has before or since...

Bullshit. He took me, and ruined me, and broke me. The same way I’m going to break her.

“Niamh,” I call to her, watching her throat jerk around a swallow. She doesn’t like the way I say her fake little name, I’ve caught onto it. I love to say it wrong. I repeat it louder and watch her squirm.

Then she counters me with a soft, “Caspian,” and my joy is snuffed out. She says my name like it’s a dirty thing. A creature that will bite her if mishandled.

Just like I will. Yet something comes back to me when I hear that hollow voice. Almost. Another name… Another feeling other than hate.

What is it?

“Come,” I snap, impatient.

She hesitates and bites her lip. Despite her plain features, I catch myself staring. Damn, her mouth is beautiful. It’s not like Cassius’ and his harem of pretty dolls: perfectly pink, plump, reddened from the previous drink. Hers are pale, and chapped by the wind and the lower is fuller than the other. It’s ugly and lopsided.

I need to feel it again.

“Jump,” I goad her.

With one last glance downward, she throws herself into the air and I watch her fall. So slender and delicate, she is. I consider letting her hit the ground and ruin more of that pretty skin.

You can’t,Cassius warns.

But I’ve already lunged to catch her—he never told me to.

I sit her down and push her back against the wall, face upturned, eyes wide and innocent. Perhaps a different kind of innocence than the kind Cassius claims. Makes us mutilate. The mortals he craves are so very hopeful. They believe our bite will cure their ills and make them happy.

It does,he claims.

It doesn’t. It makes us bitter, distorted angels just like him. He prefers us that way. Little shattered mirrors he doesn’t have to see his own reflection in. Hateful, vicious things.

However, I can see myself reflected in her eyes. A pale creature with an unholy red gaze. Cassius’ sadist. He wants to swallow her whole, she can see that. Even so, she doesn’t shy away. She’ll let him engorge himself on her—for a price.

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