Page 8 of Fated Blood

“Cold? That’s all?” I chuckle.

“Well, you know, that and the looming threat of losing my life at any given moment.”

He’s saying it jokingly, but it makes my heart sink. Reality crashes back in and I feel my body start to tremble in fear.

“Hey, kid, just ignore me…” he says, his voice getting closer to the hole.

I wish I could still see him. The fact that he called me a kid…

“I’m not a kid,” I whisper fiercely, and his hand comes through the hole and cups my face again. His palm is so warm, even though it's so horribly cold down here. I close my eyes, trying to pretend I’m anywhere else.

“You’re right, I’m sorry… You’re a young woman.”

“Just a woman, I’m not that young!” I say back, laughing quietly.

“You look pretty young from my side of the cell…”

“Oh, hush!” I snap, slapping his hand away, but he grabs my hand and holds it.

Electricity shoots through me, sending waves of feeling down to my toes and back up to my brain. His hand around mine is so huge, so rough, and so damn hot. I rotate his palm, stroking the veins in his wrist with hunger and desire. I want to bite him more than anything in my life. I don’t know if it’s stark hunger, or just the desperate need to put my mouth on him.

“Your hands are so small,” he whispers, then shudders as I stroke his veins. “You should get some sleep as well.”

“Can’t, it’s too cold,” I say, claiming his excuse.

“I could keep you warm,” he says.

I gasp. “...how?”

I shouldn’t have asked. His hand pulls mine through the hole and his fingers spread mine so my palm lays open before him.

“Did you know…” he begins, stroking the lines of my palm. His voice is hesitant, almost nervous. “You have the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”

My whole body implodes. I blush, heat flaming through me. Just when I think I couldn’t feel hotter, his beard touches my hand moments before his lips press to the center of my palm. All I can do is breathe heavily, not sure what to do or say in response. He kisses up my fingers, stroking my fingertips over his lips.

“I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you,” he admits, his breath hot on my palm.

“What do you mean, ‘you want me’?”

He stills. “I…I’m sorry, Fayla.”

He lets go of my hand and I pull it back slowly. I press my fingertips to my own lips, remembering the way his mouth made my body burn. I’m definitely warmer now, I’m burning between my legs. The feeling is pleasant at the same time as it hurts. I’m confused, hot, and I need…something.

“What are you sorry for?” I ask, genuinely curious. I don’t think he should be sorry for anything he just did or said. “You made me warmer, just like you said you would.”

“You’re setting me on fire,” he whispers. At least, I think that’s what he whispers. I watch through the hole as he pulls away from the wall and lays on the far side of his cell. “Get some sleep, Fayla…”

“I’m not sure I can,” I admit.

Suddenly, a light blazes and blinds my view. I shield my face, scrambling to the back of the cell as the sharp click of heels on stone echoes off the stone.

“Sebastian?” a sing-song voice rings out.

I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them defensively. It’s Angelica. She walks in front of my cell first, chains and a leather collar in her hand. She stops, looks at me, and smiles. “Hello, little pet,” she says. “It’s not your turn tonight I’m afraid.”

I hide my face between my knees, shaking, and she walks on.

“Sebastian, my dear… I hunger…”

---