Page 32 of The Night Runs Red

I stumbled over my own feet, losing my balance and plunging forward. I held my breath, waiting for impact, but it never came. Instead of hitting the floor, I was enveloped by strong arms, tugging me closer to him. “You are rather clumsy.”

“Well, if you had better lighting down here, it wouldn’t be a problem,” I snapped, pushing back and standing straight. The dim sconces on the wall cast a gloomy shadow over half of his face, highlighting the thickening stubble along his chin. I’d never been a fan of facial hair on men before, but something about how it looked on him made him seem distinguished. And the way it felt as it scraped the inside of my thighs was sinful…

His hold temporarily tightened before he cleared his throat and stepped back, offering me his elbow. I stared at it for only a second before grabbing ahold of it. It was stupid. Every time I touched him, it sent a thrill through my body. Which was counterproductive when I was trying so hard to stay away from him.

The deeper we went, the more pungent the stench of mildew became, overpowering the sweetness of Rion’s body. Water droplets fell from the walls and ceiling, creating puddles on the ground below.

The stairs finally gave way to a narrow space—open, save for a cylindrical object standing tall in the middle of the room. It reminded me of a coffin wrapped in chains. There was a small, covered window at eye level, but it appeared welded shut. Rion observed me as I stepped into the room. I had a sick feeling I knew what this place was, a not-so-distant memory becoming clear in my mind.

He took a few steps in front of where I stood. I didn’t know if I wanted to hear what he had to say, but curiosity won out, and I stayed silent. “Our home has gone through countless renovations over the years, modernizing as the times changed, but this,” he paused, peering at the iron structure, “has never changed. The room was used for many things—a prison, a slaughterhouse, an asylum. As our numbers grew, my ancestor Arowan built this to punish his children when their cravings became too insatiable. It completely removes you from your senses, depriving you of everything but oxygen. He would not give Calix yet another reason to label us as monsters. ”

He began circling me slowly, akin to a predator stalking its prey. The muted lights above cast a subtle glow onto his skin, making him appear even more menacing than he was. But despite the darkness, his eyes still sparkled.

“The first week is the worst. Everything is heightened—your emotions, your desires, your urges. The body craves the necessities it is being deprived of.” He stopped before me, his breath skating along the back of my neck and sending shivers down my spine. “Can you imagine what that could drive someone to do, love?”

The sound of fists beating against iron broke through the spell Rion held me in. I jumped back, slamming into his hard chest. His arms looped around my waist, holding me close.

“Calia?” Jasper called. His voice was scratchy and hoarse, barely audible through the barrier. “Calia, are you there?” I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. Just hearing the pitiful sounds he was making had nausea turning in the pit of my stomach. “Please forgive me. Please help me.”

Rion moved toward a small panel I hadn’t noticed before. He pressed a button, and the window slot opened. It was silent. “Come closer.”

At Rion’s command, I stepped closer, even though I didn’t want to. I shook my head furiously. “No, stop.” But he didn’t. He watched as I fought against whatever magic worked held me in its grasp.

When I was no more than two steps away, Jasper’s face appeared through the small window. He was beaten and bruised. A large gash marred his cheek, the wound dirty and scabbed over. The blood vessels in one of his eyes had burst, surrounding his pupil with crimson. His lips were crusted from dehydration.

I spun and looked at Rion, whose gaze had darkened. “This is cruel.”

“No,” he said in a low tone. “This is retribution. He did not protect you as he was sworn to do.” My husband stepped forward. “He marked you.”

“I did not mean to,” Jasper cried. “I did not even want to drink from her. Tell him!”

Before I could try, Rion bared his teeth and growled, causing Jaspers to shrink back in the confined space. “Watch your mouth, friend. You do not command her.”

Suddenly, Rion’s rage made sense. That’s why he cared. It had nothing to do with me but rather what the symbolism behind Jasper’s bite would mean to others. His wife was marked by another man. No matter the circumstances, that’s all anyone would see.

Jasper’s mewls became louder, filling the room until I could no longer comprehend the thoughts racing through my mind. He clawed at the container until the smell of copper filled the room. He sucked at the tips of his fingers, a man crazed for nourishment in any form.

I stepped back, clutching my stomach. “I don’t want to see anymore.” Rion pressed the button, closing the window and muffling Jasper’s cries. I met his star-flecked gaze, unsure of the hunger I saw in it. “Why did you show this to me?”

“So that perhaps you can understand the depth of my confusion regarding you. I have lived over 200 years, love. Nothing, not even my desire for blood, has driven me mad as you do. It is infuriating and senseless.” His hands curled into tight fists at his side as if he was stopping himself from reaching out and touching me.

Did I want that after what I just saw? Would I welcome the feel of him on my skin? There was only one way to find out, and I had to find the strength to allow that kind of vulnerability with this man.

“Were you angry about the mark because of what others may think? Or is it because he’s tasted me, and you haven’t?” My question was bold, but I needed to know if this was a superficial attraction or if true feelings lurked underneath all the bullshit.

He lurched forward, wrapping his hand around my throat and pulling me toward him. His touch was rough, but he kept his grip loose so I could breathe. “Do not remind me of that.” Rion’s lips were close to my own. “For it makes me want to drag him out and kill him with my bare hands.”

“Now you know how I felt.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “What?”

I leaned forward. “Did you fuck Senna last night after you left my room?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “She and I—we have a complicated past. One I hope to share with you one day, but for now, you must know that I have not taken or touched another woman since the day we wed.”

“What about all the nights you spent out of the house?”

His forehead touched my own. “It was so I would not crawl into your bed as you have crawled under my skin.”

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