Page 20 of Death Comes for Her
“And a vampire might say there’s nothing more alluring than my blood.” I tipped my head to the side, observing him. “Or my cunt.”
A muscle in his jaw feathered, and his eyes glinted dangerously. Simon removed his clenched fists from his pockets to cross his arms over his chest. The motion drew my eyes to his slim, muscular build, then down to his trimmed waist.
“Vulgar little thing,” he drawled. He swiped a hand over his mouth, almost as if he meant to hide his tongue darting out to flick over his bottom lip. “So,pet, if you’re so educated, what are you reading?” He spat the endearment, but it fell short.
“Amor Immortalisby—”
“—by Azazel Mephistopheles.”
I blinked.
“No.”
Simon’s lips thinned and his gaze narrowed into ice-cold slits. “Yes. He wrote the poemAmor Dulcis—”
“—Amor Dulce Mors,” I swiftly corrected.
His nostrils flared, and he almost snarled as his white-knuckled fists returned to his sides. “Yes.”
“Azazel didn’t write it.” I carefully tapped a finger on the book cover before reciting the history lesson I remembered. “His secret human lover, Antonin Rowan, wrote it. Azazel was a fairy known for waxing on about the inherit eroticism of the more repressed human religions, but it was his lover who wrote poetry about their secret affair.”
Simon’s upper lip curled back enough to flash his fangs. The menacing performance didn’t unsettle as much as it might have two weeks before. Instead, my traitorous body tingled, and something awakened between my thighs. My heart shuddered with the revolting need for what those fangs provided.
“Azazel is listed as the author,” he argued.
I laughed—openly, and in his face. An even greater insult to an educated posh male than a verbal one; insult his knowledge.
“He’s listed as the author as a cover. His human lover wouldn’t find accolades publishing his work for fairies. If Azazel, already a well-known writer in the upper echelons of the fairy society, published Antonin’s work for him, he’d provide more opportunities for his secret lover.”
Simon inhaled a sharp breath, and his ire cooled as he listened to my lesson. By the end of my rant, his face smoothed into guarded curiosity. The peculiarity of his latent interest made something twist deep in my stomach.
“And how would you know all this? Our soldiers found you out in the middle of nowhere living in squalor. A filthy rat from nothing shouldn’t know these things.” I didn’t believe his affront as much as he wanted either of us to.
Again, I tapped the cover of the book. A slow, wicked smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I stood from the chair. I pressed the book into Simon’s chest, smirking up at him despite the height difference.
“Azazel is listed as the author in all first editions, such as this one. A very well-preserved and lovely edition it is, yes.”His hand covered mine as he held the book in place. The cool contact almost made my breath hitch. I inhaled, lowering my voice into something deceptively sultry. “But after Antonin died, Azazel had the author corrected. By the time Azazel passed away, buried in the same grave as his human lover, Antonin was listed as the author for the fifth edition release.”
A charged breath passed between us. Ice-blue eyes locked on molten gold, silently challenging one another. Something else, darker and burning, simmered beneath the tension.
Simon’s gaze flicked to my lips, lingering a moment too long to be mistaken as mere curiosity. I felt the pressure of his hand caging mine between his large palm and the book cover like an anchor to reality.
I snatched my hand away. Simon stood unmoving, with the book of poetry to his chest. My hand flattened over my heart, willing the erratic pounding to ease. I managed a few steps back, inching towards the direction of the library doors.
His smooth, chilled voice cut through the brittle energy.
“Only a fairy from fair folk high society would know about this book, and you know far more than a barn rat should.” Those eyes were living ice, sharp with unspoken asseverations.
I swallowed down a lump of panic in my throat. I’d said too much.
“Well, you know what they say about teaching a rat to read.” I shrugged, taking another step back.
Simon huffed, once again rolling his eyes. “No, I don’t know. Some ancient fairy proverb, then?”
It was my turn to shake my head at him. “No, you idiot. That’s stupid. I made it up.”
Biting back a laugh at the offense that flashed over his pointy face was almost impossible—almost. I saved it for the moment I escaped into the hallway, leaving a stunned, pale vampire inmy wake. And I laughed so hard that my belly ached, and tears spilled from the corners of my eyes.
Gods-damn, it feltreallygood to tease him.
