Page 14 of Stolen By the Vampire

Remember the plan. “Tell me about—”

“Ah, ah,” Silas tutted. “You had your question. It’s my turn. Tell me about your past lovers.”

If looks could’ve burned the vampire, her glare would’ve reduced him to ashes. Instead, he smiled, pleased with her reaction. She would’ve been better acting like an emotionless ice princess. She’d always been so good at that. But around the vampire, it was impossible to keep her composure. “What makes you so sure I’ve had any?”

“Your initial reaction. If that was the case, you’d have denied it as easily as I did. Now, that’s two questions you owe me.”

She was losing at her own game. Fine. No more indignant outbursts. She’d answer and then get her own answers in turn. “I had one lover before, a boy two years older than me. We recently parted ways.”

“Why did you end it with him?”

“He saw me more as an object than a person.” A weak peasant witch who would never leave the village and would be impressed with everything he said. I’ve given you everything, and you spurn me? Your heart is ice, witch. Let your body turn as well when the walking moon is full again. Given her everything, he’d said. He’d bought her dinner twice with complaint, and given her a lay in the hills that had hardly been worth gloating about with other girls, if she’d had any friends to potentially gloat to. “He was the kind of man who, even if I spent hours making a picnic basket to enjoy with him, he’d cancel because he could get a better offer. If I ever tried to make other plans, he’d accuse me of disloyalty. I realized my value to him was that I was an easily impressed audience, and I got tired of seeing the same play over and over again. But…” She trailed off before she could voice the question on her lips.

Silas read her hesitation perfectly. “I knew you were the one to end it because no sane male would ever let you go.”

She forced a smile, but it was brittle. “He didn’t want to let me go. He saw me as a belonging. You two would likely have gotten along.”

Chapter Eight

Silas bit back a growl and opened his mouth to argue. How dare she compare her to some former lover who’d failed to make Esmae feel as cherished as she deserved?

No words came out denying it. His teeth clacked together as he shut it.

Was she right? Had he treated her like an object? He’d forced her to stay against her will—there were no two ways about that. Yet it wasn’t the most unusual response, given she had tried to kill him after he’d saved her. He didn’t think she was an object. A prize, yes, but not a possession. A woman with an adventurer’s heart, a sharp wit, and bravery enough to rival the fiercest armies.

“I do not expect to keep you here against your will forever,” was what he eventually said.

“So you do plan to let me go?”

How eager she sounded! What Silas truly hoped was to win her over, so that she would choose to stay with him. They could go beyond any land she wished to explore, if only she would allow him to go with her. To guard her, keep her safe, and provide. And, of course, growl at any males who looked too closely at her. And perhaps to hold her…

But that wasn’t seeing her as an object, was it?

“I will hold you to the terms set initially.” It was the best he could do. “When that is done, you may do anything you wish.”

She settled back in her seat as though she believed him. Yet it was all Silas could do not to cross the table and fall between her legs, begging him to let her court her properly.

“It’s my turn,” she eventually said.

It wasn’t, but he’d allow it, after what they’d just said.

“Tell me about fated mates.”

She hadn’t asked about who his fated mate was again, so Silas was spared another attempt at dancing around the dragon in the room. “Fated mates are predestined pairs bound through unknown forces. They’re perfectly matched, two halves of a whole. When they truly accept each other, it is said they can feel each other’s emotions.” For his kind, fated mates also represented the ultimate weakness—because only his fated mate could hurt him.

“My turn. Where did you hear about fated mates?” That wasn’t a term common in Eurobis the way it was in Wyrdova.

Esmae looked away. “My mother. Do you know who your fated mate is?”

Why was she focused on this? If she asked who, he’d be honor bound to tell her, but no doubt she would run in fear. He needed time, flames damn him. “Yes.” Was his tone even, bored? Nonchalance was hard to pretend, even for a master, when this was the subject. “I do not wish to speak more on the subject. The game is done.”

Her brows furrowed, no doubt trying to decipher why he was so private on the subject. “So when you want to stop answering questions, that’s fine, but the moment I refuse, you thrall me?”

“Yes.” Her expression turned, what was for her, literally murderous. The knife he’d given her for the fruit was a dull steel, but all the same, he’d do well not to court her wrath. He could give an explanation—not the explanation, but one that was at least partly true. “The existence of my fated mate makes me vulnerable. I will treasure her above all else, and saying more could jeopardize her. I will not be moved to say more this eve.”

The annoyance etched on her face dimmed, but there was still a curious tilt to her head. Trying to decipher him?

At least she was curious. A small victory for him. They finished their meal with relative peace, the conversation turning almost… normal. Esmae spoke little of herself, but she did tell him about her village, her favorite places to explore. Silas, in turn, listened eagerly, asking as many questions as he could without turning rude. It was outside their game, but she answered. At times, she seemed almost startled, as if unsure if she should stop speaking. As if no one had ever asked her so many questions about her opinions, her tastes, her wishes.

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