Page 32 of Nocte
There is a look of torment in those eyes. Yet before I can pull away, his hand slides down to my hip, stroking through the fabric. I shouldn’t find comfort in the action, but I do. He wants me, the only bargaining chip I have to trade. Whatever his hesitation, I’ll make him push past it.
I have to.
“What’s wrong?” My voice is a breathless gasp.
“I can’t,” he hisses. “Already owe him. Fuck him.”
“Who?”
My voice makes him stiffen, and those eyes fixate on me once more. It’s like he’s seeing me for the first time.
Disgust isn’t there, though. That dangerous hunger returns for a second, and I know exactly what he wants. He’s never stopped wanting it. However, something has held him back.
Maybe it’s the same rules that should restrain me.
No matter; I know what I want. What I crave. What I need.
“Tell me about the other realms,” I murmur, my voice soft in the echoing space.
“I can’t.” He breathes out as if pained. Then he lowers his skull to mine, our foreheads meeting, lips a hair’s breadth away. “What do you want to know?”
My mind runs wild. There are so many things. So many more questions. One day in, I’ve already broken my new rule. The hope is back, and it’s too potent to resist. In his arms, I’m suffocating with greedy, filthy need. I’m drowning.
And he is my lifeline.
“I want to knoweverything,” I breathe out. “What is it like? How can I go? I want to go. Take me?—”
No.I bite that back so hard my tongue stings. Too hard. I’ve made myself bleed.
“And what will you give me in return?” he asks, his voice practically a whine. “Your body?”
He uses both hands to capture my waist while raking his gaze over the body in question. Small in comparison to his. Thin. Pale. Sickly.
Even so, his eyes gleam and glow. For this, he’s just as greedy.
“Is that what you’d give me? You’d let me fuck you if I wanted. Shove my cock between those pretty little thighs.”
My cheeks flame at the vulgarity. Never outside of that infamous novel have I heard such language spoken. But I don’t deny it.
And he groans, his throat rasping. “You would,” he snarls. “You would. But I don’t want it, fae. You aren’t worth it.” He steps into me, shoving his knee between my legs like before, but this time, his hand follows, inching up, up, up. “But Idowant you,” he grates, prodding at that part of me, unshielded by fabric. “I’ll take?—”
Suddenly, he stiffens, head cocked, eyes narrowed. He frowns and steps back, pressing a finger to his mouth. A heartbeat later, he fades into the shadows.
And then I hear it. Footsteps, bold yet soft. Day.
I can’t move fast enough. My limbs don’t seem to work, and I’m left tugging my robes into place as he steps from behind the nearest shelf. His gaze is warm, his half-smile firmly in place. Somehow, he doesn’t sense the vamryre lurking just out of sight. Somehow.
Though he is all I can feel. All I can focus on. His presence cloaks me in an icy chill that even poor Day, despite his namesake, can’t displace. As the seconds tick by, the furrow in his brow deepens. He is unsure.
“You should be happy to see me.” The statement isn’t a question and yet it shatters my mind state all the same. Am I happy to see him? Yes. No. I fear for him.
Caspian’s vile emotions are so easy to read. Even with my eyes closed, breath held, I’m sure I could sense what he’s thinking. His anger has a smell, like sulfur and fire. Like smoke.
How can Day not sense him?
But he doesn’t. His smile is gone now, his gaze wary. He runs a pale hand along the front of his green robes—an uncharacteristic display. What in the hell is wrong with me?
“I… I am always happy to see you,” I choke out in a whisper. My voice can’t seem to penetrate the quiet. My heartbeat surges, seeming so much louder. It tolls like an alarm bell, sounding suspiciously similar to a name.Caspian! Caspian!