Page 14 of Vanquished Gods
I sighed.
“Ah, here we are.” He stopped before an iron-wrought door and pulled a skeleton key from his pocket, sliding it into the keyhole. He pushed the door open, revealing a grand room with ornate ceilings and a four-poster bed with blue curtains. A chandelier with flickering candles hung from the ceiling, and another door led to a stone bathroom with a copper tub in the center.
Climbing over the dark stone walls were blooming white poppies. These were my favorite flowers, extremely rare and difficult to cultivate inside. My father was one of the few gardeners in Merthyn who could grow them well, both inside and out. Until he died, I used to make crowns out of them. I stared at them in wonder.
If Sion were any other man, I’d wonder if he’d done it on purpose. But it was Sion, and he hardly knew the first thing about me.
On a table by the window, someone had laid out an entire steak pie, roast vegetables, and a bottle of wine with a gold-lettered label. My gaze lifted from the table of food, and I stared out across the sea through the towering, mullioned windows. Far below, jagged rocks pointed at the sky. Waves pounded, deep and rhythmic, frothing against the shore. In a small inlet, an oak cog with a tall mast bounced in the waves, tied to a weathered wooden post. Seagulls swooped overhead, calling into the clouds. The place had a stark, wild beauty. Like Sion, I suppose.
I should tell him how beautiful the view is, how amazing the food looks, but the flowers had me thinking about my father—and that particular memory sent a pulse of anger through my blood.
My fingers twitched in my leather gloves, and I felt the dark urge to stroke someone’s skin. I gritted my teeth, forcing the compulsion under the surface.
Sion picked up the bottle of wine and opened it. He started to pour two glasses. Apparently, he was staying for a chat.
I turned back to Sion, raising my eyebrows. “Did you enjoy killing those men in the throne room?”
He handed me a glass of wine, golden eyes gleaming. Metallic. “Not as much as I once would have. It used to be a thrill, like liquid lightning through my veins. But yes, I did enjoy it, because I’m a vampire, and that’s what we do. Just like a witch is supposed to use magic. But pleasure isn’t the only thing that drives me.
“I killed those men because I have to keep my kingdom safe. They were on their way to tell the Order where we are, and that absolutely cannot happen. I don’t know who put that thought into their idiot heads, but someone did. The Pater would have rewarded them with wealth beyond measure, I’m sure. He wants me dead, and Maelor, and you—and everyone on this island, really. If he knew we lived here, he would stop at nothing to destroy us. But as long as you’re here, I will keep you safe.”
I took a sip of the wine, letting its complex flavors roll over my tongue—blackberries, cherries, a hint of oak. “You will keep me safe,” I repeated. “It’s just that I remember you picking me up by the throat, crushing my larynx, and throwing me onto the ground. Do you remember that, Sion? And then you told me you enjoyed toying with your prey.”
Shadows filled the air around him, and a dark expression crossed his beautiful features. “What do you think the Pater would have done to you if I hadn’t? He thought you were defying him, and he wanted to exert his power. I had to make an example of you, orhewould have. You’re not my prey, Elowen. If you were, you’d be dead.”
My pulse raced. Even in the grandeur of this gorgeous room, for some reason, I found myself staring only at him. “So, tell me, what do you love about being a vampire so much?”
He took a step closer, sipping his wine. The candlelight sculpted his cheekbones with shadows, and his dark expression was hard to read. “I’m a king with the strength of a god. I live in a castle staffed with servants ready to fulfill my every whim. I command an army. I enjoy the divine thrill of sinking my teeth into a pliant woman who is begging for it. In the evenings, I watch the sun set in my towering lunarium as I sit between the earth and sky. I sleep in a room that overlooks the sea and listen as waves beat the rocks beneath my window. This island, this castle, the night is mine, and I am as eternal as the stones around us.” He raised his glass. “And do you know what? This century-old Rocamor from Aquitania is as delicious as the sweetest blood straight from a heart’s wellspring.”
“That metaphor is kind of ruining the wine for me, to be honest.”
He chuckled softly. “As a vampire, heightened senses allow me to enjoy pleasures that would elude mortals.” His golden eyes darkened as he looked at me over the rim of my cup. “And as always, I delight in beauty where I can find it.”
Beneath my clothes, I felt a flush spread over my chest, and I turned away from him.
Light poured through the windows onto a table set with fruit and pies, and on the desk, a mirror. A few corked bottles stood before the glass. I picked one up and held it up to the light. “The anti-vampire elixir?”
“And in case you’re still worried, you’ll find stakes in the drawers.”
I pulled open the top drawer to find neatly arranged sharpened stakes, and I pulled one out, staring at it. It was hard, reddish-brown, and smooth to the touch.
My eyebrows flicked up. “Cedar?”
He stalked closer. “Hawthorn. It’s in the elixir, too.”
“You’re telling me how to kill you?”
Abruptly, he gripped the stake and shoved the point against his chest. “You will want to thrust it upward, through my ribcage, straight into my heart. End my life for good, but it must be hawthorn. You bring it up under the ribcage…but you don’t need that instruction, do you? You demonstrated your skills quite vigorously in the temple.”
“And why would you tell me how to kill you?”
“Because next time, I will see you coming,” he whispered. “And if it came down to a fight between you and me, I believe I would end up on top.”
My breath shallowed. “Don’t you have some more thralls to kill?”
“Tell me, Elowen. Since I have told you what I enjoy, what is it thatyoulike to do in your free time? Wrestling with your own repressed emotions? Wallowing in guilt? It just sounds ever so fun, though it might drive you over the edge of reason eventually.”
“Oh, I have tons of fun, Sion. Don’t worry about that. I gather berries, I make baskets…” My sentence faded out as I realized how boring that sounded.Fuck.