Page 78 of The Vampire's Mercy
Much better. Show him your dominance.
Standing again, his face twisted into venomous disgust. “Dammit!”
He gritted his teeth, folding his hands behind his back—an antidote to the unsettling attraction I had for him.
Never forget who he is.
“At ease,” I said.
The elf relaxed. “Thank Aidan.” He rubbed at his chest. “Your orders feel like heartburn.”
I snarled at the sound of his deity’s name. “Are you a pious man, Paris?”
“Yeah.” He rolled his shoulders. “Why?”
“No reason.” The cult of Aidan poisoned the minds of executioners, their lives infected by blind faith in someone they’d never seen.
How much blood had been spilled inHisname?
“Aidan is everything,” he said with an angry bite. “You’re an invader.”
I was in no mood for religious prattle. “Watch your tongue. I can easily have it removed.”
He folded his arms. “Whatever.”
“Petulant, aren’t you?”
“Special treat just for you.” He smirked.
The amethyst at his throat sparkled, a beacon of temptation. “I saw you in a dream.”
“Same.”
“Pardon?”
“I saw you in a clearing.” He explained the dream from his point of view, and then went on to tell me about a strange tower in a rainstorm. At the end of his story, he lit a mistrock cig, one arm wrapped around his waist as he held the smoking stick close to his face.
I told him what I’d seen.
“Do you have any idea what this means?” I wondered, the way he smoked as enticing as the rest of him. “What the white roses are?”
“Not a clue. You?” He blew the harmless smoke at the ceiling. “It feels bad, though. Like something unsettling is coming, you know?”
I nodded, a shiver passing over my skin.
“Let’s hope we’re wrong,” he added.
“Agreed.”
The fact he’d been calledprecious oneby this mysterious voice only reaffirmed my decision to keep him here. He was a key, an answer to this potential… Goodness, what if this was the beginning of something darker? The rising of some deadly threat? It could be. Anything was possible. After all, wasn’t peace always fragile? Wasn’t there always something waiting in the wings to destroy it?
Like him…
“What are you?” I asked.
He frowned. “Nothing special.”
“Your singing seems to be restoring pieces of my memory,” I said.
