Page 17 of Captive Hybrid

Chapter Eight

Zenna

Would you like to play with me?Callen’s words sink into my bones. Before I could answer, soft footfalls make me jerk my gaze up, finding Godric. As though he’d heard our exchange, he shoots a glare at Callen. ‘Shift’s over.’ He jerks his dark head toward the stairs, a clear dismissal.

I wonder if there are different ranks going on here which I don’t know about. Clearly Drusilla is at the top, but does she have a Second like wolves do? I haven’t seen the vampire—Hendren—who grabbed me again, but I got the impression Drusilla keeps him close.

Callen’s amused smirk falters. He leans slightly past Godric—at which the other vampire’s top lip curls—and hisses to me, ‘I know you’ll play with me.’

Godric’s fangs slide out with a quiet click, a clear threat, white against his full, dark lips.

Callen leans away, a soft snarl, but edges to the stairs without a backward glance.

Godric settles into place beside the candle on the wall, shoulders relaxed. For a long moment, he silently appraises me, arms folded over his chest. He must notice that I’ve showered and changed. He can smell me better now, too. ‘What were you thinking?’ His voice is quiet in the gloom.

I purse my lips. I don’t have to tell him anything. Instead, I pick up the food and nibble on it, making it clear I don’t intend to disclose anything. I need information, and as dangerous as it is, Callen seems more likely to dish than Godric.

Godric’s dark eyes pinch. ‘You were so talkative with Callen. Why’re you quiet now?’

I take a sip of water, drawing out my response. ‘Yesterday you were all, “shut up and let me read”.’ I tilt my head. ‘Are you jealous, Godric?’ My gut squirms a little at flirting with the vampire. I need to see if I can goad him. It will be a slow and painful process if only one of my guards is up for sharing. I need to see what buttons this one has, too.

Godric’s brow raises, just so. Surprised. He tilts his head, eyes flashing. He grasps the door of my cell and jerks it. Open. I’d forgotten about that. Godric swears under his breath and locks it back up. ‘Please tell me you weren’t thinking of falling for that.’

I make a show of rolling my eyes. ‘I’m still in here, aren’t I?’

Godric sighs, returning to his brooding-lean against the wall. ‘You might think you’re manipulating Callen, but you aren’t. Nor me. I hate to break it to you, Zenna, but we are much older than you, and infinitely more cunning. Callen might share small, useless pieces of information you feel the need to collect, but I assure you, he will win whatever dalliance you engage him in. And you will end up dead.’

I set the water down with a dull thud. ‘Drusilla wants me alive.’

‘That she does. But it wouldn’t be the first time Callen has disobeyed her, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’s forgiven him.’

I set my gaze on the floor, unable to look at those cold, dark eyes. ‘Why?’

‘Because he’s bloodthirsty. When you’re as old as we are, things get a little, well, dull. Callen has a way of keeping things interesting. He was one of Drusilla’s favourites even when she walked this earth last time. Please don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re untouchable. It will end badly.’

Finally, I drag my gaze to meet his. ‘Why are you warning me?’

Godric rolls his shoulders, reluctant. ‘Because Callen is reckless, messy. I am usually the one left cleaning up after him. I dislike it. And because I sense you will be of importance. The Origins are back, and every one of them is scheming against the other. I suggest you play that very carefully, to your advantage. When met with an Origin, the best advice I can give you is to show strength, not cowardice. An immortal will look favourably on something interesting, entertaining. You cower, you die.’

I blink, taking in his words. ‘I still don’t understand why… it seems like you’re helping me.’

Godric just shrugs. ‘Don’t waste your time. My agenda is my own.’

As I watch the vampire pull out the paperback from his jacket, settling against the wall and flipping to the right page, I climb slowly off the bed. He’s shown more kindness than I would have expected. Even if it’s only from a place of not wanting to deal with the fallout of my death, I have to press on that, gently, while I can. ‘Godric? I had a book on me when I came here. It… it means everything to me. It’s a journal. Do you… do you know where it is?’ I keep my voice light, soft. Pleading. My eyes wide.

Godric takes my measurement, considering. ‘Drusilla has it. Quite interesting from a glance. Your parents created a unique creature in siring you.’

‘I barely got to start reading it. Please. Can I have it back? What else am I to do in here?’ I wrap my small hands loosely around the bars, my eyes filling with tears. ‘If I’m to be a prisoner, can’t I at least have my book to read?’ I push hard on the booklover in him and watch him fold, just a fraction. The sympathy in his eyes is brief, but I catch it.

‘I can inquire, but don’t hold your breath.’

I lower my gaze, clearly disappointed. I need more information to pass on to Mordecai. I can feel him routinely pressing on our bond, but if the pain last time was any indication, I can’t let him in while I’m being watched. It’s too risky. I’ll have to wait until the next time I’m allowed to shower.

Godric’s gaze slides back to his book, eyes moving left to right, reading a line or two, then pause. He holds up the book. ‘Have you read it?’

Animal Farmis written on the cover. I nod. ‘Of course.’

Godric looses a harsh laugh. ‘I’ve read it many times. Some are more equal than others. A fitting allegory, the humans think, but I believe it suits Supernaturals more. I didn’t know Orwell, but I do wonder if he was a vampire.’ The edges of his fangs glisten against his bottom lip.

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