Page 30 of Nocte

“Patience.” He snaps the word, utilizing it like a whip. “So eager, little fae. Little Niamh.”

My heart stops. It’s the first time he said my name without the mocking. The cold nonchalance. There is power in every syllable. Hot, molten hatred.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. He pins me with that stare alone. I’m suffocating with every second, feeling his hands wrap tight around my throat. Only a heartbeat later do I realize that he’s never moved.

He’s still standing there just beyond the nearest bookshelf. The shadow cast from it drapes him like a cloak. It is only those crimson eyes that remain visible.

“Tell me what you want. I…” I lick my lips and change tact. “I know what you want.”

I’ve studied it. I’m ready. My body tingles with anticipation. I’ll sacrifice it and any other part of me he wants. I need to know. I have to.

“And what do you want?” he counters, his head cocked at a menacing angle. “Say it out loud, little fae.”

I do. “Tell me about the other realm. The mortal one.”

He cocks his head and leans against the nearest wall. His skin clashes harshly with the dark stone. He’s a creature of light and darkness. A representation of all the races in one. Fangs bared like the lunaria, blood red eyes of the vamryre, the confidence of the fae.

But what does that make me?

A creature in the shadow of all three. A hybrid of immortality and something else. An enigma that lingers in obscurity, ignored by all but the corrupt few. An illness. A disease.

“Why should I do that, little fae?” That voice is colder and sterner than any I’ve heard before. “What will you give me?”

My lips tremble. I run my tongue across them, but it doesn’t seem to do much. Still, I swallow hard and say, “I know what you want.”

At least before I did. Tonight, he is different. The mention of corruption doesn’t excite him. He grimaces as if the thought is too repulsive to contemplate. In the blink of an eye, he lurches closer as if drawn to me. Pulled. His hand flies out, fingers outstretched. They brush my hair and then grasp a handful in a fist, yanking me toward him. His lips brush mine and hover. Not quite contact. Something in between. I can hear his ragged inhales, drawing my scent into his lungs.

And I…

Go limp. My back arches. A strange ache pulses through my belly, moving downward. It’s like the hunger pains I feel when I’ve gone too long without eating. Harsher, if that is even possible. Pressing my knees together is the only way to find relief. Sanity.

Suddenly, I am unable to meet the vamryre’s gaze. I have to stare down at his throat and watch it jerk as he swallows. I shiver with every controlled movement. Jump. His mouth nudges my jaw without warning, urging me to face him. Present my mouth again for him to brutalize.

I shouldn’t.

I can’t stop myself. It’s as if my neck begins to twist of its own accord. In a blink of an eye, I find my chin tilted, my lips parted, mere inches away from his.

Then, all at once, he steps back. “No,” he tells me. “I don’t think you’re worth it.”

Like that, he turns away and stalks toward the mouth of the archive. How he got in, I suppose I’ll never know. I should be relieved that he is gone. I should hope my brain conjured him as a brutal reminder.

I’m not supposed to hope for anything. Ever.

Disappointment is all I’ll ever know.

CHAPTER10

Niamh

Iwake up with a renewed sense of mind and a stronger resolve. I know my place and I will seek comfort in the dusty corner of this massive shelf that is our realm. I will take the Lord Master’s wishes to heart. I will obey and cloak myself in honesty.

When the ceremony comes, I will perform however I am asked to.

I will clean and hide. Hide and clean.

When I creep into the archives before dawn, I do so with my hair pulled back, and my head bowed in deference to no one. Obscurity is all I require. Even Day…

If he comes, I will turn him away. No one should penetrate this dusty, cobweb-covered solitude. It is all I deserve.

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