Page 23 of Dark Flame
Protect.
Why is that singular feeling almost as strong as my need to kill her?
Through my confusion, I repeat her last words in my head. They weren’t a plea to be saved, but an agreement to die.
“Why would you want to die?” I prick the tip of my tongue against one of my fangs, using the sting to stop me from acting on one of the few feelings coursing through me. “You give up too easily.”
“Because life isn’t worth living anymore.”
I release her entirely, laughing as she falls to her feet, clutching her throat. “And that, Miss Sinclair, was your second mistake today. You want to die, so you’ve given me every reason to make your pain live on.”
With my next deep breath, my fangs retract into my gums and my eyes return to their normal black, vision in full colour once more.
She glares at me, watching my transformation. “Why don’t you ever call me by my first name?”
“Given names are a sign of respect, and Sinclairs have never deserved mine.” I spin on my heel and snap my fingers. “Now, follow. We must get you ready.”
Her steps don’t trail behind me right away, not that I expect them to. She won’t attempt escaping again, even as she’s right in front of the main doors. Her plan failed, and I anticipate her conceding for good, given the limited outcomes of any attempt she has in her.
“Then what should I call you? What’s your last name?”
So she learns.Once on the bottom step, I peek over my shoulder, studying her standing there clutching her oversized shirt, her ridiculous pyjama pants dirty from her time in the dungeon. Are those pineapples all over the pink pants? I’ve never seen a witch seem so…human. It’s unnerving.
“Earn it, and maybe I’ll tell you.” I take another step, and this time, so does she.
“How?”
“First, by following. Second, by obeying every command I give you tonight.”
“What’s happening tonight?”
“You’ll see.” I end the conversation by walking up the stairs. She’ll follow, or she’ll continue making unwise decisions.
After a moment, her quiet paces trail behind me, those damn flat shoes making annoying slapping noises against the stone. They’re almost eye roll-worthy and soon will be gone. Burned so I don’t have to be subjected to them anymore.
I lead her all the way to the guest wing, every paced human step I’m forced to take exasperating. It’s unnatural to move so slowly, but finally we make it to the spare room I had prepared for her to use.
I push open the door to the bedroom and cross to the ensuite bathroom, hovering until Sinclair appears in the doorway. Lips part as she takes in the room that’s much cozier than the cell. For one, it has a bed.
“What are?—”
I snap my fingers, ending the stupid questions. Thewhysandwhatsare unimportant. Her little stunt downstairs has already put us behind. Within the hour, hundreds of vampires will descend to get a look at what I’m selling, and she should be shackled in place and ready before then.
“Into the bathroom. Shower. There’s soap for you to use. Don’t wash your hair because we don’t have time for you to dry it, and looking like a drowned animal won’t do. There’s a brush in there, and a dress. Once you’re ready, meet me out here. You have fifteen minutes beginning now. Do not make me come looking for you.”
Her brows lift as she slowly treads into the bedroom, staring at the large bed with longing. “You’re letting me shower?”
“Yes. You stink like a cell. You forget, vampires have heightened senses and no guest of mine deserves to be subjected to you. Get clean.”
Her eyes narrow into little violet flames that match the vibrancy of her hair so perfectly. “Gee, sorry, if I knew kidnapping was on the calendar, I would have showered and primped for you.”
“Yes, well, next time be smart and think ahead,” I reply, playing into her sarcasm. She forgets, I’ve had centuries at perfecting an attitude, and once lived with a woman who was much more irksome than her. “You’re down to fourteen minutes.”
I drop into one of the two armchairs positioned beside the unlit fireplace. In recent years, after a lot of convincing, I had a modern heating system installed in the castle, rendering the ancient fireplaces useless. The temperature makes no difference, hot or cold, but I was reminded that if I wish to keep this Sinclair alive, the place needs to have some human, livable conditions.
Propping my chin on a hand, I regard her from across the room. She hides her anxiety and hatred well as she stares back unblinkingly at me.
“Give me one good reason why I should listen.”
