Page 27 of Dark Flame
I am too. In part.
She reaches for my hand again. “I don’t care about your name anymore. I want to go home.”
Oh, she couldn’t have said a more perfect thing. Raising my voice ever so slightly so it’s heard by the entire room, I tell her, “This is your new home. You’re never leaving, so get that silly notion out of your head.”
Her eyes blaze an interesting mix of irritation, fury, and something even more depraved. I stroke over her hair again, dragging my fingers through the silk. Her hair is softer than anything I’ve felt in a long damn time, and it’s only the audience preventing me from getting lost in the sensation.
More and more stop their own conversations to observe. Towards the end of the night, I’ll offer one lucky customer the chance to be the first: to change right after the party. They can bid on the chance.
In truth, I need to confirm that earlier was simply because I didn’t ingest enough. Can’t build a business on a broken product.
A familiar figure breaks away from a nearby group and strides forwards, his attention bouncing between the witch and me. He passes her and comes close before dipping into a low, mocking bow.
“Your Majesty.”
Like every time someone’s approached tonight, Sinclair glances at me, the throne, and then the walls around us. She’s presumably finally pieced together who I am. A part, anyway. A role.
Cedric straightens from his bow before all proper etiquette—the little he holds on to—disappears, and he slouches, shoving his hands in his pockets. Up close, it’s obvious the little care he puts into his appearance. The rumpled suit, his unbrushed hair, the drops of blood in the corner of his mouth he’s never bothered wiping off after his latest feeding.
Speaking low and hurried so our conversation won’t be heard by Sinclair or the others, he asks, “So this is her? Took you long enough.”
Her eyes narrow on us, our conversation a mere hiss to her ears.
I bob my head in a single nod at the man who’s been my longest friend, dating all the way back to our human lives. Cedric and I changed shortly after one another, and we’ve been putting up with each other ever since.
He grins before crouching in front of her. She leans away, pressing herself into the throne’s side, her cuffed hands coming up to hide herself; a useless endeavour, because Cedric reaches and grasps her chin, angling her head towards him.
I watch them.
I don’t like it.
“You certainly are a pretty one, aren’t you?” He strokes her cheek, and every nerve in my body tightens in response.
After all, she’smyprey. My conquest.
Cedric has as much reason to despise the Sinclairs as I do. Difference is, he took a different approach to healing himself. He’s numbed himself with alcohol, blood, and fucking to the point I barely recognize him anymore while I’ve chased revenge.
“Fuck off.” She tries to jerk away, her attempt causing the cuffs to clang against one another.
Cedric chuckles, gripping tighter. “With a mouth on her too. Keep it up, sweetheart. Our friend here doesn’t like when your kind fights back. He may accidentally kill you, and we can’t have that, can we?”
My eyes drill into where his thumb sweeps over her pulse, which is beating faster than normal. Even faster than when she found me in her room. An interesting fact I tuck away for later.
Clenching my hands around the throne, I muster everything into my words, unwilling to beat my long-time friend over someone as minor as her. “Get your hands off her.” The threat, the desire to kill, slips into my tone, not acknowledging our friendship and only recognizing him as a threat.
Both glance towards me with varying expressions of confusion. Sinclair with a bit of fear, but Cedric smirks before slowly—too slow for my liking—releasing her face and returning to my side.
Before he says anything, I utter my words quietly. “I need her alive and unharmed.”
“Mhm.” He claps my shoulder. “Your pupils are red. You seem a bit…threatened.”
Fuck.
I snap my fingers, and a human servant comes rushing forward with a glass of blood. I down it in one go and give her the glass back. It helps a little.
Cedric watches, amused. “Good luck, and nice to meet you, Harlow Sinclair.” He shoots a final wink at her and then glances my way, laughing when the same sensation starts making me tight again.
Once we’re alone, she twists to me. “What the hell is your problem all of a sudden?”
