Page 22 of Shadow's Heart

“You just clocked my throat.” He recalled the way she’d stared at his neck in the lava field, that dark thirst. Now he pictured her slowly piercing him, sucking on his flesh. He imagined her afterward, warm and sated from his body, licking her lips. . . .

Despite their circumstances, his cock stirred. He’d never been bitten, but if he’d come across a comely vampire, would he have allowed her to feed? Back in the day—or, rather, a few days ago—he would’ve tried almost anything to shed his worlds-weariness.

His perversions shouldn’t surprise him. His very name meant dirt and adulteration.

She said, “I have no intention of drinking you. I’ve never been intoxicated, won’t start now. Which means your befouled blood is off the menu.”

Of all the words. Over the ages, he’d been known as Silt the Befouler.“Why didn’t you drink the shifter you attacked back there? He wasn’t intoxicated.”

“I’m thirsty. I’mreallythirsty. But I’m not at a point where he—or you—would prove appetizing enough.”

Silt hadn’t particularly wanted to strengthen this vampire, but her turning her nose up at his blood rankled. “At your age, you probably need blood every night. You’ll beg for mine before long. No other food exists on this plane.” Vampires could eat food if pressed, but nothing satisfied them like blood.

“I don’t believe that. If our captors intended for us to starve, then why not just kill us? They’re called the Gaolers, not the Executioners. There must be a higher purpose to this place. I continue my exercise in survival to discover it. And all the while, I’ll search for an escape and an opportunity to kill you. Fortunately, I can concentrate on many things at once.”

Her points weren’t lost on him, but he found himself preoccupied with her blood drinking: “With eyes like yours, you must not have been so discerning about your victims before. The Gaolers would have sent you warning dreams of this place, but you continued preying on others.” As that shifter had done. Had Kosmina found human throatstender? For some reason, the idea enraged Silt.

“Seems you’ve got me all figured out. And what crime did the great King of Sand commit to end up here?”

“Millennia ago, I set myself up as a god among humans. After a show of my stunning sorcery, they fell to their knees and showered me with riches and adulation.”

“At your advanced age, you should know better than to reveal yourself to humans.”

Everyone in the Lore knew this. “Apparently, the guideline about not revealing ourselves is more of a rule.” He’d paid thosewarning dreams no heed, until they’d stopped. Then he’d sensed the Gaolers were coming for him, so he’d become a fugitive.

“If you’re so powerful—worthy of worship even!—then use yourstunningsorcery to fend off the wendigos trailing us.”

He swiped rain from his face. “I told you. No sand here.”

“Why would it be so difficult to come by?”

“It’s rock broken down by physical processes, which takes untold energy over eons. For all we know, Nightside only recently developed rain and wind.”

As she ran beside him, she canted her head. “You’re not like the sorcerers I’ve read about with their impeccable clothes, masks, and glib words.”

He sidled around a petrified stump. “Not glib.”

“You don’t say.”

“What else do you think you know about Sorceri?”

As if reciting some text, she said, “Your kind are isolated creatures, prone to revelry and paranoia. Historically, you wore masks to discomfit enemies and armor to protect your bodies. You are obsessed with gold and eschew meat.”

He grunted.

“You can’t deny any of it, can you?”

“Of course I can. I eat meat.”

Eye roll. “One of my uncles recently found his Bride in a sorceress, and she confirmed everything I’ve read, saying Sorceri often enchant themselves with their own ills.”

Though true, Silt said, “Condolences to him. Sounds like your uncle got saddled with a killjoy.”

“They’re ecstatic together, thank you.” With an analytical expression, Kosmina observed, “You don’t look like a reveler. You must have been very active before you froze into your immortality.”

I was forced to be active.In his youth, he’d stayed just ahead of the tip of the whip. “I built many things. Homes, temples,castles.” He’d been good at it, seeing all the engineering angles, appreciating them. “And then I used my knowledge to fortify my stronghold, routinely updating my defenses.” Until he’d grown so weary of the monotony that he’d almost hoped for capture.Just end the suspense.

Smoking had obliged where enemies hadn’t.

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