Page 104 of Vow of the Undead
“You’d lie to me?” he asked. The crease between his brow made him look as if he was actually hurt by this.
My heart jolted. I hadn’t said it aloud, had I?
“No,” he said. “I heard your thoughts.”
With my back snapping straight, I bore into him with a fevered glare. “I was really hoping that was a nightmare? You really can read my mind, can't you?”
With a chuckle he shook his head. “I can catch glimpses after I’ve…connected with a human. And then when they’re heated. When you want me. Part of it is simply observing how your body reacts to your thoughts.”
Rage built within me. “You tricked me into this twisted little kissing game so you could invade the privacy of my mind, didn’t you?”
He brushed his thumb over his lip and suppressed another chuckle. “Again, no. The human has to…wantme, both in spirit and sex, in order for the connection to form. It goes both ways, and I didn’t know if you felt more than just the heat?—”
“No.”
“Hmm.”
I cursed. There was no way I could want anything beyond base attraction.
“So,” he began, his wicked smirk taunting me. “Shall I ask again? Is this library a wedding gift worthy of your hand?”
I shook my head and absently toyed with the tip of my braid. Two smaller braids from the sides of my heads were intertwined with the larger one that I draped over my shoulder. “There is so much we don’t know and I want all of it.” I was that same girl my mother tasked to watch for the executioners—the blade at which the truth stopped. She always knew they were hiding our history, but not for what purpose
This hidden library proved her right.
“Why? What can lost history do for you now?”
I opened my mouth but stopped short, unsure if I could explain the will to live to an undead creature.
He grinned. “Speechless? I know another way to leave you without words.”
I mirrored him now, folding my arms. “You wouldn’t understand the answer.”
“Try me.”
“Survival.”
He opened his arms and looked around. “What is mere survival when you can have all of this and live in the castle in the wealthiest village in our realm?”
Our realm. The way he spoke almost drew me to him, like an invisible thread pulled taut between us. Or perhaps my body was still tense, still wound up from the frustration of his teasing. “I want freedom. And for someone like me, black eyes and with a pulse that beats to the rhythm of the Poetic Edda, it is only a matter of time until the executioners come for me. But you, my…” I stopped. His lips parted, but he said nothing. “What?”
“You don’t know what to call me.”
“I’m not declaring youmy kingand certainly not calling you my husband because that’s simply not true.”
“How about Drak?”
“How about Killer?”
He stepped up to me, brushing the back of his finger along my cheek. “Only if I can call you that too.” I gritted my teeth.
“See? You wouldn’t understand. You killed for pleasure. I killed for protection. That is what survival means.” A weight lifted off of me though the shame still lingered with a chill trickling down my spine. This is what the Gods needed from me; survival for me and my mother, for Stasia, and the people of Skaldir.
He cracked a half smile, but it wasn’t full of amusement as it often was.
“If my eyes speak for me, then it is the shape of your mouth that speaks for you, even when it is closed,” I said.
“My mouth is very talented.” Though he spoke suggestively, his half smile faded.
