Page 47 of Nocte

“It was just a book,” I insist, hoping my voice alone conveys my conviction. Just a book. Just a sinful, dangerous, all-important book. Just a guidebook to my dealings with Caspian. It’s all he wanted from me. All I had to offer.

And it still wasn’t enough.

“No!” Day snaps, turning on his heel, robes swishing, red hair flying. He’s animated today. Tonight. For the first time, I realize it is later than he normally visits. The others are all abed. I am alone, lurking long past the hour I should be in my room asleep. Because I’m waiting for him. Hoping for him.

And hope is such a dirty, sinful thing.

“You have no idea, do you?” Day remarks, spinning to eye me, his expression one of disgust. His upper lip curls, nostrils flare. He has never once been disgusted with me in all the years we’ve met in secret. What have I done to offend him so?

Or maybe nothing. Perhaps he’s finally accepted what we have both known all along?

“You are so naive of the ways of the world.” He advances toward me angrily and reaches out, snagging a piece of my hair. He winds it around a pale finger, but it isn’t gentle, a harmless touch. He grinds the strands between rubbing fingertips as if chasing out my very essence, spreading corruption all over his fingers. Then he breathes in but it’s a long, lingering inhale.

My heart lurches. Skips. My throat feels tight. I feel dizzy and sick. Something is wrong. Very wrong.

“You don’t understand, how could you? You have no idea what I mean to offer you.”

I can’t speak. I have to lick my lips to find enough traction. Once. Twice. When I breathe in again the air is different. Thicker. Heavier. Spicier. I feel a familiar chill and my body comes to life again.

“I think you’re beginning to understand,” Day says, his smile back. Pulsing. Relieved. I’ve made him happy but I don’t know how. He smiles and runs his finger along my jawline, tracing the shape of my bottom lip. It’s curled upwards in a weird shape.

My own imitation of his half-smile? But Day thinks he is the cause of it. He isn’t. It’s my own greedy selfishness. Maybe…

Maybe I can finally get what I want. The potential deliverer is here, watching and waiting. Impatient. I can tell without even seeing his face. It’s like I can hear him, hissing,Send him away. Away.

“I hate that I’ve wasted so much of your time,” I tell Day. “You are so very busy with your studies. You don’t need to visit me if it is a chore.”

A part of me winces. Will I deny myself my only real distraction? Maybe. If. If. If…

If I can attain something else. But poor Day, he is worthy too. Worthy of so much more than chasing hours in a dank crypt with an unworthy abomination.

“You should go,” I tell him, moving cautiously as his fingers still trace my lip. Over and over they trace. Too many times they trace.

I step back. “You need rest. I hate to be the cause of distracting you from the ceremony.”

He frowns, fingers still hanging in the air. They reach for me again. “Don’t you see? You are the only part of the ceremony that matters to me! I can save you,” he hisses, gripping my shoulder tight. “I can save you from all of this. I can give you the life you’ve only dreamed about.”

I don’t understand. I don’t.

“Day, I?—”

“Don’t you see?” He yanks me closer, bringing his face within a hair’s breadth of mine. I’ve known this face for most of my life. Now, I barely recognize it. “You are my rightful Aurelia. Not the other one. You know your place. You will serve me with modesty and obedience. It will only be you!”

My voice breaks. I try to move away. “Day?—”

“No!” He takes my hand again, gripping the fingers so tight it hurts. I gasp. His eyes widen with guilt. Then narrow. His hand clamps down over my own, jarring the very bones.

“You can’t deny me,” he warns. “I am the only one who has ever cared for you. Who taught you. Look at me!”

I can’t. I turn my face away rather than see the look in his eye. Something dangerous and dark buried within that once friendly green.

“Look at me!” He snatches a fistful of my hair—something he has never done. Yanks me toward him. Presses his mouth to mine?—

“No!” I push him off. Try to. He is too big. Too strong. He steps into me, lashing at my lower lip harshly. So hard that he bites. Draws blood.

I’m bleeding.

“Day, stop!” I wrench away and stagger into the wall. He’s panting, swiping at his mouth. A drop of red gleams there and is instantly chased by his tongue. Gone in a flash. I don’t know him, this stranger eyeing me, his chest heaving, eyes blazing.