Page 41 of Starve
“You aren’t leaving.” It’s not a question when I say it quickly, the words echoing in the bathroom. “Not for real. Right?”
“Depends on whether you want me to.” There’s a careful neutrality in his voice, like he’s trying not to let me hear what he really thinks.
“Do you want to?”
“Doyouwant me to?”
God, he’s so infuriating. I snort and get to my feet, some of my bravado coming back to life in my chest now that he’s not pinning me against the wall or caging me in on the counter.“How did you heal so fast?” My eyes are fixed on his back, where the mostly healed marks are on full display.
He just sends methatlook over his shoulder. “Do you want me to leave?” he asks again, this time slowly. Pointedly.
I don’t.
But that’s the problem.
Fuckit, I decide. My life is already so fucked lately, and I have no idea what I’m even doing with myself at the moment. I’ve felt off ever since stabbing myself in the hand. Though if I’m honest with myself, I’ve been doing not so great for a lot longer than that.
“No,” I admit. Then before I can stop myself, I reach out and grab his hand. I drag Cairo back toward me, terrified and using my last little bit of bravery to do so. My heart flutters in my chest, making me wonder if I’ll regret this in about ten seconds. “Please don’t leave.”
The surprise on his face is genuine and unfiltered. He doesn’t even think to hide it.
He takes that last step toward me, closing the distance, and brings his hand up to cup my face. He’s sweet, almost gentle, until Cairo lunges forward with a growl and presses his lips to mine in an all-consuming, demanding kiss.
He really isn’t human.
That’s all I can think of as his fangs brush against my lips, my tongue, and every time I move they’re all I can feel. His tongue snakes into my mouth, tasting and touching. Exploring, maybe. There’s nothing normal or boring about the kiss, or the way he cages me in on the counter. “Don’t wanna shower,” I breathe, my fingers gripping at his shoulders. “Not dissociating—” My words end in a yelp when Cairo suddenly picks me up, carrying me out of the bathroom to drop me unceremoniously onto the bed.
“Good,” he agrees. “Because I don’t want you to shower either, little bird. I don’t have the patience for it. Not now.” Cairopounces—there’s no other word for it—and pins me onto the bed under him. Luckily, Moro already escaped to trot back to the living room, her tail up like she’s offended. I can’t help but laugh a little, though it’s immediately cut off when Cairo presses his hand to the base of my throat. He doesn’t use enough pressure to hurt, but just enough to let me know he’s there. Just enough to keep me in my place as he looms over me like a predator sizing up its prey.
My hand comes up, and I brush my fingers along the healed scars where his wounds were. He shivers under my touch, and in the faint light I see him bare his fangs as he leans close to me again, and Cairo’s eyes pick up the light to reflect in a green-yellow glare.
“My little bird,”he purrs in the voice that’s both familiar and not. It’s not his. That’s for sure. But it sounds so empty, like it’s nothing at all. He leans down again, his tongue out to lave over my face, drawing a line up to my jaw. “You taste so sweet for me.Fuck.”There’s a note of impatience in his words, but as his claws skim down my shirt, his eyes meet mine in the dimness with a question plain in them.
I really should tell him to leave, seeing as he’s amonster.
He ate Esther,my brain is quick to urgently remind me. The words echo and overlap until they’re white noise, like the sound of birds in my ears drowning out anything else.
But when it becomes just nonsense, just more white noise in the static of my brain, I suddenly find I’m able to move again. I reach up and gently tug up on my shirt, my eyes locked with Cairo’s as I do it.
He doesn’t need another sign. His hand grips the loose material, yanking it over my head so quickly I’m stunned. My bra is next, and then Cairo stops, holding himself up to stare down at me.
“Don’t,” he murmurs, when I move to cover myself, feeling vulnerable and unnerved under the reflective gaze. “Don’t you dare. I don’t want you to hide yourself from me, little bird. Not now.” Slowly, ever so slowly, he lowers himself until he can press his mouth against my throat. One hand smooths over my collarbones, down the hollow between my breasts, until he gently lays his fingers on the softness of my stomach.
“If only you knew how delicious you taste, Fern.” Cairo sighs like he’s both enjoying this and suffering. He licks at my throat with small, gentle kitten licks, before kissing over the spot, allowing his fangs to brush my skin. When I reach up to twine my fingers in his hair, he growls, and I hesitate, unsure.
But then he moves his hand up as well, encouraging me to sink my fingers into his hair. “You can’t be afraid of my sharp edges, or the sounds I make,” he huffs against my skin, leaning up just enough to meet my gaze. “Otherwise, this will never work.”
“I’m not afraid of any of you,” I say boldly.
Cairo tilts his head, fixing me with that look that says he doesn’t quite believe me.
But then again, I don’t quite believe me, either. “I’m trying,” I amend, hating that I have to do it. But he snorts and kisses me again, sitting up to gaze down at me.
“Such abravelittle bird,” he coos teasingly, absently unbuckling the front of his jeans that hang low on his hips. “And all mine.” He doesn’t push them down further, but then he’s on me, biting and kissing at my lips like a desperate, dying man.
I don’t expect the intensity, but I try to match it. Small sounds leave me as his hands come up to cup my breasts, like he just wants to feel them in his hands, before his thumbs move to tease at my nipples. That makes me a little louder, a little bolder, and I shove at the waistband of his jeans that I can reach while he kisses down my throat.
My efforts to get him naked come to a stop, however, when his sharp fangs find my nipple. I yelp, hands flying to his hair, but I don’t pull him away. The white-hot, almost pain has me arching into him, grounded in the moment without an urge to be anywhere except here.
