Page 22 of Caller of Crows
The vampire's eyes flashed. "This isn't going to work," he said, gaze narrowing.
Sven wasn't one to give up easily, though. After all, the vampire had given him enough reason to believe that Sven wasn't the only one feeling the pull between them. He pulled up another memory, of the time Altair had sucked the blood from Sven's lips.
Altair's glare burned into him. "You're playing with fire, mortal," he warned.
A thrill of fear raced through Sven, but he didn't back down. "And you're the one who's been playing with me since the moment you kidnapped me."
Altair's expression darkened. "I will not be manipulated."
"Do you need to be manipulated?" Sven asked. When Altair only looked at him, Sven pressed on. "I know you want me. You bit me yesterday, and you pretended like you did that so you could carry me around more easily, but when you kidnapped me, you knocked me out without ever needing to bite me. You didn't have to bite me last night. You did it because you wanted to." Sven knew he was treading on thin ice, but there was something about the vampire that called to him, something primal and irresistible that made it impossible for him to stop.
Altair's gaze flicked to Sven's neck, where he'd bitten him the previous night. "I don't have to explain myself to you."
Sven refused to back down. "You can't deny that you want me."
Altair's eyes flicked back up to meet Sven's, and for a long moment, there was silence. Then, the vampire spoke. "I'm not denying anything."
Sven's heart leaped in his throat. He'd expected dismissal, or anger, or even violence. But he hadn't expected this.
"I may be a predator," Altair continued, "but that doesn't mean I'm going to let myself be ruled by base instincts." He took a step toward Sven and then another until he was standing right in front of him. Sven's breath caught in his throat as Altair leaned down, his lips hovering just inches away from Sven's. "You may be tempting, mortal, but I will not let myself fall prey to you."
Sven's heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure Altair could hear it.
But then, Altair pulled away.
"You should finish your food," he said, his voice low and rough. "I have things to attend to."
And with that, he turned and left the room, leaving Sven alone with his racing thoughts and a tray of half-eaten food.
ChapterEight
Altair had always prided himself on his self-control, but Sven was making him struggle, his mere presence tempting Altair in ways he had never experienced before.
He paced the halls of his underground domain, trying to clear his mind. It was impossible to get rid of the images Sven had seared into his mind, though. The mortal was right; Altair did want him, but he couldn't let himself give in. There was nothing to be gained from falling for a mortal.
Especially not one who only wanted to be turned.
But then, his mind wandered back to the moment he had leaned in close to Sven, their lips almost touching. The mortal's scent had been intoxicating, his body so close that Altair could feel his warmth. The vampire's self-control was slipping, and he knew he needed to do something to regain it.
He climbed the stairs that led up to the club. The sun had only just set and there weren't a lot of patrons at the bar yet. Altair exchanged short greetings with his staff, wished them a pleasant night, and strode outside.
There, he inhaled the cool night air and closed his eyes.
He'd left his favorite crow down in his chambers with Sven. Through her eyes, he saw the mortal sitting at the edge of the bed, staring blankly into space.
A sense of possessiveness rose up within Altair, the desire to claim Sven as his own—not just his blood, but his soul.
Altair suppressed the urge.
Sven thought he knew what he wanted, but he didn't. He was acting out of desperation, not because he truly wanted to be a vampire.
In the end, he would resent Altair.
Altair took a deep breath and opened his eyes, gazing out at the quiet city before him.
In all his time as a vampire, he'd only ever turned one person, and he'd learned from that mistake. He walked to the park where he'd met Sven and was joined by his crows, talking softly to him, telling him about everything they'd spied in his territory that day.
Gently, he quieted them. It wasn't information he wanted tonight. It was liberation. His birds cawed at him, and then they took to the sky. He followed them, letting the cool night air wash away his thoughts as he soared above the city in a whirl of black feathers.
