Page 23 of King of the Damned
I nod in understanding and move on to my next question. “Why don’t you celebrate on the night of the full moon instead?”
He’s quiet for a moment as if pondering the answer himself. “Many vampires prefer to spend the full moon with their…lovers. It’s when we’re most powerful. When feeding gives us the most nourishment and strength and pleasure. When you’ve lived hundreds of years, sex tends to be the thing you use to feel human again…even if many of us wouldn’t admit that.”
“Oh,” I say. I don’t know why, but the sudden imagery of Kaius finding his pleasure in hundreds, if not thousands of lovers in the time he’s been a vampire, has my heart aching.
“Would you like to accompany me tonight?” he asks quietly. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he seems…nervous. He flashes his teeth in a teasing grin. “I promise there will be food and wine for you there. Many vampires bring their human consorts with them.”
I pause, letting my hands fall away from him and take a purposeful step back. “Is that what I am to you?”
“Adelasia, you know that’s not what I meant.”
“Actually, Kaius, I don’t,” I huff, my voice rising with my pulse. “You refuse to tell me why you kidnapped me. You refuse to feed on me. You refuse to do anything other than provoke me into asking questions you have no intention of answering. So you know what? No. I don’t want to go to a stupid candlelit dance with you in this stupid, lifeless box you call a home. I don’t want anything to do with you at all.”
“Adelasia–” he calls after me, but I’m already three steps into the hall before he finishes the last syllable.
Twelve
Adelasia
My eyes burn with unshed tears, and I hate it. I hate that Kaius keeps me here with no evident reason. What have I ever done to deserve this? What is my crime? Dancing in the town center? Being in the wrong place at the wrong time?
I slam open my bedroom door and wipe the lingering sweat off my brow. Iphigenia is in the room, waiting near the bathroom with a fresh towel in her hand.
“Miss Adelasia, Lord Kaius has asked me to help you get ready for tonight.”
“There’s no need. Please leave.”
“But–”
“I said get out!”
Iphigenia cringes at my tone, sets the towel down on the vanity, and leaves with her eyes glued to the floor. I feel bad for the poor girl. She didn’t deserve the butt-end of my frustration, but there's no need for her to help me bathe or dress when I’m not going to this moonlight party the rest of them are so excited about.
I quickly change out of my leotard and tights, pulling on a long-sleeved beige tunic and a pair of fitted trousers. As I run my fingers through my hair to smooth out my bun, I realize as I look at myself in the mirror, that I look just like my mother. She often wore my father’s old tunics when she worked on clothes or in the garden germinating the herbs and mushrooms my brother would bring home. She’s always been a simple woman–giving her family so much while asking for so little in return.
I begin to feel a sense of shame. How much more comfortable could our lives have been if my parents hadn’t sacrificed everything to keep me in dance school? How much more food would we have had on our table?
How much less would my father and brother have gone into the forest? And then it hits me, after all these years of denial.
It’s my fault they died.
If I hadn’t been a dancer, and we didn’t have to hunt and gather for extra food and money, then the two of them would still be here. My passions, my ambitions, my desires are the reason they were in the forest that day.
When I turn away from the mirror, my dead pointe shoes sit on the edge of the bed. I use a finger to feel the worn-out satin and the fraying ribbons. I hold the shoes to my chest, and I watch as a tear falls from my face and lands on the fabric.
I choke back a sob as I turn and toss them into the fireplace, watching my life’s purpose burn to ash before my eyes.
There’s a biting chill in the air as I quietly make my way through the underground tunnels connecting the palace to the dungeon where Saddiq is kept. True to my word, I’ve brought him extra food, water, and clean clothing every day.
I don’t usually linger for fear of Dravon finding me here–but today I am not afraid. Saddiq is shivering under a thin blanket when I sit in front of his cell, and he smiles when he sees me. He’s missing another tooth, and a cut over his brow trickles blood into his eyes.
He makes a dismissive noise when he notices me looking at it. “Pay it no mind,” he says with a soft grin. “It looks worse than it feels.”
“You say that every day,” I point out, sliding the provisions I brought through the enchanted door. Saddiq bows by touching his head to the dirty floor, even though I’ve told him a dozen times to stop.
He claims it’s a mark of respect in his culture–that he could give me his neck and trust me not to step on it.
I always tell him that I don’t deserve his respect, for I’ve done nothing but earn him beatings. No amount of food or water could erase that suffering.
