Page 36 of Nocte
All.I’ve been leaning over her shoulder for hours, devouring this sweet songbird’s tune like a vulture. Her tune has run out. Now should be when I bite. Kill. Strike.
But I won’t. As soon as I kill her, Cassius will have me back under his thumb, with no plaything to distract from him.
Using my body, I push her onward, onward, toward that towering collection of books. I make her grab one—all I have to do is pretend to reach for it first. Then I tell her, “Read it.”
“I can’t.” Her voice is barely audible, almost choked out. Sweat enhances her scent: I can see drops of it, dripping down her neck. “It’s late. The day is wasted. I… I need to sleep.”
Sleep. Day. Wasted.
I don’t care. Let the fae sleep after I’ve ripped her to pieces. I want her awake and alert now. She needs to read.
“Do it.”
“I can’t.” She pushes back, newly emboldened like a mother hen protecting her flock. A flock of paper and leather that smell like dust. “It’s time for you to go.” Her voice flits between a whisper and a shout. It’s like she took lessons from Cassius once and then forgot them: how to be an arrogant prick and order your lessers around.
Unlike his voice, hers doesn’t irritate me. I want to hear it more. In more ways. How can she stretch it? What other magic can she create? How will it sound to hear her scream?
“When,” I snap.
Her fingers run through her mane of black hair as she stiffens. It’s so damn long, reaching past her narrow waist. Then she cocks her head and inhales. “Tomorrow. No… Tomorrow. Please go.”
Go.I let her think I do. I watch her scramble to the bell tower, her gray robes hanging off her gaunt frame. She’s easy to follow. Easy to watch.
Taking off her shift, she washes her limbs. Eats a hunk of stale bread. Goes to sleep.
In one small way, I will give the fae their win. They have one advantage over the vamryre. Sleep. They can turn their minds off and escape into a world where none can follow.
We are not so lucky. Cassius is our morning, noon, and night. There is no rest from him. No respite.
Yet, even in her dreamworld, the fae doesn’t find peace. She tosses and turns. Whenever the wind cuts through the crumbling plaster and old wood, she shivers.
Then she wakes up before dawn and shuffles to do it all over again. This is her existence, scurrying in the shadows, hoping to avoid notice. I think she truly believes it matters whether she is seen or not by the hordes of other fae that call this complex home.
She’s wrong.
They all know of her. They talk of her in harsh whispers. How they despise her.
Except forthatone.
He’s different from the rest. Most fae are pretty, flighty, flaky things. They huddle beneath the sunlight and shun those they deem unworthy—which is everyone that isn’t fae.
Not him. Sneering, he looks down on his own kind. He charms the lesser fae females that flock to him. He fucks them in secret, caring little for them after. Yet, seeksherout like a wolf hunting prey. Fitting because that’s my role. Only he has no idea how to play it. No idea what he wants. He sees her, and watches her, and the little fae is none the wiser.
She thinks she’s humoring him.
He’s studying her.
He thinks he can take her for himself.
I’ll kill him first.
Even now, I can sense him, creeping his way toward her little hovel, hoping to slip inside. He isn’t allowed to, but he does so anyway. Boldly he shuns their little rules. He is confident that she belongs to him alone.
She’s mine, though. Only she isn’t. The cost is too great. Too steep. Cassius has tightened his leash and made my boundary clear. I can watch the little fae but I can’t touch. To do so is to incur a debt I must repay to him. Disgusting, sick fucker.
I owe him one kiss already. That’s why he sits back, content to let me play another day.
Eventually, I must pay my dues.