Page 105 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
She twisted around, placing a hand on his chest and digging her fingers into his cravat, keeping him from disappearing again. “Marked?”
He reached out and played with a single cinnamon curl, and she felt his body relax beneath her fingers. As if touching her insome way brought him peace—unlike every other time before when he’d winced.
Quinn gulped, dropped her hand, and averted her gaze. She was a coward. All she wanted was to kiss him again. Fuck him . . . possibly, but his reaction after their kiss scared her because she didn’t know if she could handle simply fucking him. She’d want more, but he wouldn’t be able to give it.
Quinn pulled away. She couldn’t allow herself to want him. He was the Playboy Prince, and all he cared about was having a good time. And she wouldn’t be one of his girls, not like that.
His kiss was . . .wonderful.But it would not happen again. Right?
Oh, fucking mirrors,it would probably happen again. Because the two sides of herself warred. The side that wanted to keep him at a distance and the side that desperately wanted to fuck him and experience the true pleasures in life. Ugh, she needed to think about something else, so she chose to focus on what he said.
“If I’m marked . . .” she started but didn’t even understand enough to finish the sentence. “I need to know what that means.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it.” The words lingered in the air between them.
“When I found you dying, I had a choice.” He paused, like he was trying to figure out how to give bad news. “Either I let you die or save you, but in doing so, I had to mark you. Vampire blood heals, but it has high consequences.”
“Wha—”
“But it’s even more complicated than that. Based on the Vampire Accords, if I marked you, I would be breaking the agreement, and I would die.”
Die?
He’d risked his life to save her. What did that mean? Did that mean he cared about her . . . or evenlovedher?
“You marked me, knowing that you could die?” Herindifferent mask crumbled and flaked like cracks in the molding of a decaying house.
“No, don’t look at me like that,” he said, waving a hand at her face, his usual uncaring arrogance sliding back into place.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m your chivalrous, charming prince.” He cocked his head, his eyes as fearsome as a tiger about to strike. “I was fairly sure that I was no longer bound by my accord oaths because my painting was in the mirror at The Royalle Ballet. Given that I am not dead, it would see that I was right.”
Still . . . that was a huge gamble—for her.
Quinn bit her lip, unsure of what to do with that information. “Please, tell me what being marked means.”
He tilted his head. A gesture of respect. “When you die, you will turn into a vampire, and you will be drawn to your creator by a nearly irresistible force,” he continued as anxiety crawled up her throat. “They will have sway over you, and the bond will make it hard for you to disrespect or disobey them. It’s not a compulsion, but it’s strong and lasting.”
Quinn tensed. She wouldn’t be controlled. Or bound . . . to him. Control was all she had. “Can a mark be overridden?”
“It’s—” His eyes shifted, and a cloud of discomfort settled over him.
“It’s what? Undo it,” she snapped, anger pooled in her stomach. She was sick of being controlled and used like a puppet. Sick of being lied to and protected. “I don’t want to be yours. I won’t be your belonging to play with . . .”
He flinched. “I would never. I don’t enforce the bond or try to control the vampires I’ve created. But I can’t control if the bond makes you more . . . amenable.”
“You mean obedient.” Embers sparked in her blood; she knew Emrys didn’t want to mark her, he’d even asked for permission, but she couldn’t get over the intense frustration because she already wanted to kiss him so damn much. He’d already broken through her deep defenses, and now, she was magically bound tohim, and it wasn’t fair. “I will not be obedient to you.” She said it more like a prayer than a statement.
He let out a low chuckle. “Now that I can believe. If it makes you feel any better, the bond should already be created, so if you don’t feel compliant, it's possible it won’t be strong.”
Given that her first urge was to throw something at him—again. There might be hope that he was telling the truth because, at this moment, Quinn wanted to scream. She wanted to hate him. Not serve him, but still, this couldn’t be true. She didn’t want to lose her freedom. “Undo it. I don’t want to be . . .”A vampire.
“It can’t be undone.” Guilt snaked in his voice, twisting and consuming.
“But—”
