Page 37 of Reflections of Silence

“Oh.” Disconcerted at the thought of my voice talking in his head, though I supposed it made sense, I thought back to my time on the ship. Sharing a cabin with her. “Does that mean she might be in my head, too? Amy, I mean?”

He looked down with a furrowed brow. “Why would you say that?”

“Well, because we were on the ship for so long, and we shared a cabin for the first part of the journey, and—well, we had a few nights I can’t quite remember,” I mumbled the last part, heat climbing into my cheeks.

“You got drunk?” His voice held constrained laughter, and I was glad to bring a little humor back to him, despite the cost to my ego.

I cleared my throat. “On the rare occasion of a few nights,” I lied. “I wondered if,” I barreled ahead, “if she might have done something? I don’t know, but you keep saying I’m not afraid of you and I should be, but I’m not—” I rambled, cutting myself off. I closed my eyes, shaking my head. None of it made sense. “I shouldn't have said anything.” My hands trembled, and I tucked them out of sight beneath his coat.

“Yes.” He stared straight ahead, considering. I held my breath, unsure where this train of thought would lead us. “I am surprised you allow me to touch you, having seen me as I truly am. Raw. Evil.”

“You’re not evil,” I said softly.

“Am I not?” he barked, sliding a hand beneath his coat to grip my waist, pulling me to him with a jerk.

A cry tore from me as I clung to his shoulders by reflex, unwilling to fall into the murky, reptile-inhabited waters. Thick, tepid air covered us in a layer of sticky salt, reminding me how far from civilization we were, who I stood with. I curled my hands into his shirt, fisting the material.

“No,” I whispered. My heart raced, pressed close to his still one. “Not to me.”

“Last night, I tore you open. Itookfrom you, Gella. Without any form of consent.” His mouth lowered, and he spoke with his lips pressed to my temple. “And Ienjoyed it.I terrorize the staff. I've taken you from your home.”

A roughened knuckle notched below my chin, forcing me to look up into his eyes. I glimpsed the points of his teeth behind his deceptively soft, arched lips.

“I have no home,” I corrected him. “My father sold me to someone he didn’t know, by royal proxy. And oddly enough, the staff do like you. All of them. Minette mentioned something about saving them and giving them a place to love and care for. And I—I wanted you to—take from me. Last night.” I bit my lip, looking down at my hands scrunched in his shirt, unable to hold his gaze.

“You wanted me to?” Refusing to be deterred, up came the hand again, clenching around my jaw in a firm, but not painful grip. Desire and hunger warred in his gaze, held at bay, if only by the barest tether. Dark eyes searched mine, the night hiding him from me. His breath brushed my lips that tingled in response. Being so close to him did odd things to my body. “Tell me you want that again, Gella.”

Jagged, dual bolts of need and fear coursed through my body. I said nothing as he flicked the borrowed coat from my shoulders, leaving them bare in the open neckline of my dress. His mouth touched the corner of my lips, trailing from my jaw to my neck.

A clash of sensation assailed me as I leaned into his touch, offering the consent he craved. In silent agreement, his fingers tangled in my hair, tugging my head to the side to expose my pulse to him.

Eyes closed, I wound my hands around his shoulders, taking comfort and no small degree of pleasure in his nearness. Having him so close was dizzying. I rested my head in his hands and waited for the sting on my skin, still tender and raw from his last feeding.

Sebastian hesitated over the mark he’d left, his tongue flicking across my pulse. Heat rushed over me in a prickle of anticipation. Again, the numbing sensation settled into me, soaking deep as his bite pierced my skin. I gripped his arms tight through his shirt, pain and bliss sweeping through me in a heady rush.

Lost in a swarm of voices and memories, I swayed where I sat. His arms tightened around me, holding me up. I was glad of his support in the next second when the ground whirled beneath me. I squeezed my eyes tight, holding onto him, but my hands came up empty. The swirling ground slowed.

I opened my eyes to find the garden gone.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

GISELLA

In place of the boiling seas and Sebastian’s dark head, his lips pressed to my skin in an act as intimate as sex, I stood in the cabin I shared on board the ship with Amy without him. A second passed, and another, until his presence faded, leaving me alone with my friend.

The same dim light, the same broken lantern. Warped floorboards rocked beneath my boots in a familiar motion as I crossed the small room, swaying, but the roll of the ship had little to do with my lack of stability.

“You could out drink half the whores in Paris,” Amy giggled behind me. I spun, the room taking my stomach on a round the world tour with it. Amy grabbed my arm, holding a bottle of dark liquor under my nose. “Go on. Have another, whore.”

She doubled over, giggles consuming her, but something about the scene felt horribly wrong. Or maybe it was my stomach. I liberated the bottle, swigging from its smooth glass neck all the same. Dark golden liquid burned my tongue andthroat on its way down, but a pleasant, spicy ginger taste resided in my mouth afterward.

“What would you know about whores, girl?” I slurred the words, twirling in a dance that took me to the bed.

Warmth trailed along my chest, lack of clean, fresh air clung to the stale breath in my throat. Staring at the ceiling, I watched shadows lengthen and merge across the exposed beams of the ship.

“A whole lot more than you, stuffed away in your nunnery,” she pouted.

“English.” I shook my head haughtily. “Always think you know everything.”

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