Page 31 of Black Castle

“The moon?” He raises a brow, almost startled. And there is a gentle curve of his lips.

“You’re striking, ethereal even.” She isn’t ashamed. She isn’t scared that he will realize she has thought about him sometimes. “To be honest, you don’t look like you belong in this world. No, I’m not saying it in a negative way. Like you don’t belong here, here or anything like that,” she rambles on. And yet he watches, seemingly fascinated, intrigued, perhaps.

“I’m saying you look like you came from a world better than this shithole.” She continues, her cheeks flushed from the heat of his stare. “Maybe a prince from an old fairytale. A ghost from a forgotten legend.”

“A ghost?” he muses, his head slightly tilted, amusement evident in the visible curve of his lips.

“If it makes you feel any better, it’s not a bad ghost.” She hides a bashful giggle. “All I’m trying to say is, don’t let anyone make you feel like a freak, or a weirdo or some strange entity. You’re a beautiful man, Snow white. And if anyone ever asks you in the future why you look the way you look, tell them you were sculptured from moonlight. Or wait.” She snaps her finger, her eyes brightening. “Tell them the moon goddess is your mother.”

A beat passes, and he watches her. No comment, no flicker of emotion. He just watches. And then, gently, more like a whisper, he calls her name.

“Vivienne?”

“Yes?”

“Are you always so full of sentiment?” he asks, curious, slightly in awe.

“What can I say?” She shrugs, a soft smile stretching across her lips. “Life turned me into a poet.”

His fingers flex around his cup. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

“For what?”

“For the way you see me.”

A warmth spread across her chest. She lifts her cup, hiding a smile behind a gentle sip of her coffee.

Her eyes finally fall on her long abandoned donut. It’s cold now. Still fluffy, but cold. But it isn’t a problem. She doesn’t regret leaving it for so long. She will eat it like that.

“Can I ask you something too?” he asks softly, and her heart skips, a little caught off-guard.

“Sure.” She nods, lifting a hand to gently wipe off an invisible stain left behind by the donut she just took a bite of.

“Why do you always wear that?” His gaze wanders to her arm warmers, and she isn’t sure if he noticed it, a sudden flinch in her posture.

“I’m hiding something.” She drops her donut again, her fingers tugging at a loose thread on the hem of the arm warmer.

“What are you hiding?”

“A secret.”

A soft exhale echoes from his lips. “Well, I hope one day you’ll trust me enough to keep your secret.”

A distant smile stretched lazily across her lips. He is using her words against her.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, a flash of blade and the splatter of blood pressing against the lenses of her memory. “One day.”

Chapter Ten

Lucan

The soft blue glow of Lucan’s phone screen briefly illuminates the dark room.

A message has dropped.

He sighs, slipping a bookmark between the pages of the book left open on his lap. Snapping the book shut, he lifts his phone into his hand, letting his finger hover over the message bar.

It’s 2: 00 AM. He should be asleep or, better yet, doing something reasonable with his time. Instead, there is a copy of Wings of Flame and the Dawn of Anarchy, in his hands.

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