Page 123 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
“Yes.”
“Your father changed your name. I saw that in your memories. Why? Why’d he do that?”
Zarathos shook his head. “He didn’t just change my name, he made meforgetit. My initial impression was that he was trying to conceal my incubus heritage by eradicating the name given to me by a succubus mother, but…” —his jaw clenched—“the forgetting did something to me, it stunted my shadow powers. I used to do considerably more with them. I’m unsure if my father intended to cripple me so I wouldn’t be as great a danger to him, or if he was protecting me from a world that deemed I shouldn’t exist.”
“Perhaps,” she said carefully, “he cared for you in his own twisted way. It’s not all right, and doesn’t excuse what he did, but maybe—”
“Don’t call it love. I haven’t a clue what it was, but whatever that demon had for his children, it wasn’t love. I hated him,” he snarled. “I still hate him. Everyday I took my godsdamned potion like I was supposed to, and in the end he still… he forced me to watch while he tortured her and…”
“... and you killed the female who raised you,” she finished. She stroked his chest, trying to comfort him. “You had no choice.”
“I’m a monster.”
“She would have suffered so much more if you hadn’t acted. I’ve learned lately that demons have their own manner of expressing love. Sometimes it is more harsh and seems cruel, but that doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t there.”
“Please Vampress, let’s not talk about this anymore.”
She nodded, searching for something that might distract him. “You’d rather tell me about how irresistible you are?” She gave him a suggestive smile. “How intensely you crave my body?”
But Zarathos didn’t grin in return. “Make no mistake, I am dangerous. After this last encounter, I feel my potion completely worn off. And unlike the female of my species, incubi can be insatiable… I will keep going, lost in lust until I break you. That is partially why I had you take my blood. To ensure I stopped. Females have died because we get too rough, too out of control. It’s a blood lust to us. We forget who, why, what and continue taking until there is nothing left.”
Zarathos had hidden himself away for so long, locking his true nature behind walls of indifference and calculated bargains. She’d seen glimpses of the authentic Zarathos beneath the potion, experiencedthe pull of something real, but he had always kept it buried, fearful of what might happen if he let it show. It had taken so much from him. Years of distance, of silence, of pretending.
She met his gaze, her voice steady. “I’m not afraid of you.”
His eyes darkened, his lips pressing together as if fighting an internal battle. “I know,” he replied quietly, his voice raw. “You are braver than anyone I’ve ever known. You stand in the face of all of this—of me—and you don’t flinch, even when the darkness is right in front of you. Even when everything about me, everything I’ve done, might shatter you.”
The words hung between them, a fragile understanding, but it was still not enough. A slight tremble rolled through her from the cooling water, feeling the air crackle with unspoken tension. “Please,” she whispered, her hands reaching for him, her touch tentative but determined, “tonight, be you. Be only you.”
He flinched, his hand coming up as if to pull away, but he didn’t. “I could hurt you,” he said, the words heavy with the weight of his guilt, his fear. “I could—”
She moved her head from side to side, her voice low but firm. “I’ll tell you to stop, and you will stop.”
He just stared at her, his face a mask of uncertainty, as though he didn’t fully believe she would trust him. His doubts were evident in the way he looked at her, like he was waiting for her to turn away, to see him for the monster he feared he was.
She remained there, unflinching, her gaze unwavering. “If not,” she added, “I know a thing or two about fighting off uncontrollable males.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, not ever,” he whispered, his voice shaking with a depth of emotion he barely controlled. “Don’t you understand? It’s not the secret I’ve kept hidden that I fear most anymore. What terrifies me most, what I can’t endure, is picturing you in pain. The idea of losing you, of watching you fade from this world…” He reached up and ran his clawed finger over her face, the nail sliding across her skin like if he pressed any harder she’d crack open. “It would be worse than any death I could imagine.”
He looked at her, eyes filled with an anguish so raw it was as if he were already mourning her.
She took his hand in both of hers, her grip firm yet gentle, as if to anchor him in this moment. “I trust you, Zarathos. You are no monster,” she said. “I trust you to stop.” Her gaze never wavered from his, searching for any trace of doubt in his eyes, but all she saw was fear—fear of himself, of what he might become.
The force of his internal struggle seemed to press on him. “My blood could—”
She shook her head, interrupting him softly, but with certainty. “No blood, just you,” she murmured. “Only you.”
Chapter 40
Zarathos
The vampire princess stared up at Zarathos with a tender determination. How he loved it when her eyes blazed in such a manner.
Pulling Aryana into his arms, he rose from the water. He lifted her, and with willing compliance, she twined her body around him, legs about his waist and her arms encircling his neck. He kissed her, and she responded in kind, opening her mouth to him, allowing his tongue in. It slid between those damn gorgeous lips, dipping against her soft tongue, wrapping it up as if it were his, and then gradually pulling back. She only moaned in delightand held him tighter.
What this female did to him. He’d give her the moon. He’d give her whatever the hell she desired.
Stepping from the bathing area, he summoned his wings, folding them around her to keep her warm as he went into his room, water pouring off their bodies and gathering into small puddles at his feet.
