Page 75 of Xantera
“Who are you?” he drawls, each syllable stretching out lazily.
I raise my chin to meet his leveled gaze. “Who areyou?”
“Tristan.” His bemused expression muddles into some kind of sick satisfaction when his eyes drop to the neckline of my dress. “New Chosen One then? Who knew the palace was likethis, huh? Not a bad deal. Give up some blood and you no longer have to live in that wretched city.” He cocks his head in the general direction of the rest of Xantera.
This asshole, Lucan mutters.
A useful asshole,I reply.
“Right,” I tell Tristan slyly. “For just a little blood”—figuratively and literally, then throw in your pesky little ethics and morals on top,I don’t add—“you get all this. How long ago did you get Chosen?”
He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. “Four blood moons ago.”
“I was beginning to wonder where everyone was. You’re the first person I’ve seen who wasn’t Chosen with me.”
“Not surprising,” he laughs, although it sounds as languid and lazy as his drawl, “and actually, I’m impressed. Usually, the newcomers are too scared to come out at first. Takes a couple of months for them to realize we don’tallbite.”
“So, you all socialize witheach other?” I ask curiously.
“Well, yeah. There’s not much else to do.”
“Do you know Maribel?”
My heart squeezes as the words slip out. I haven’t said my mother’s name in years. I used to whisper it to myself sometimes before falling asleep, like I was reminding myself that she existed, that she hadn’t been a figment of my distant imagination.
But no recognition crosses Tristan’s face. He only chews on his thoughts and shrugs. “Can’t say that I do.”
The hope building in my chest deflates. One whole year seems like too long to be allowed to freely move about the castle every day and not know everyone in passing.
“Is she one of the older Chosen Ones?” he asks with disdain.
“I guess,” I answer, hesitating. I don’t know if that’s what he wants to hear. “She’s lived here for eight years now.”
He snorts. “Figures. Those Chosen Ones are too good for everyone else. Most of them just sleep all day. If you ask me, they should throw them back out onto the street, into their housing complex. Let them trade places with someone who appreciates this.” The pause ticks in the air between us, until Tristan exhales between his grinning lips and slips his arm around my shoulders. “At least, they’re up on the highest floors in the smallest rooms, away from everyone else. Now come on, stick with me and you can’t go wrong. I never got your name.”
I duck out of his grip, my heart pounding wildly. “I just remembered… I need to pee! In my room!”
Smooth,Lucan comments, amused.
Tristan blinks, then laughs awkwardly as he backpedals. “We’ll be in the billiard room playing poker. Just ask your servant to bring you. And don’t forget to bring something to bet with.” His eyes drop to the neckline of my dress again, tracing it, lingering down to my hips. “That’s always the best part.”
I stand rooted in my spot until he rounds the corner completely. Then I slowly count,one,two,three, before I take off running to the nearest staircase in sight.
Did I say I loved stairs before?I huff, gathering the skirt of my dress and dragging my legs up the seventh flight. My butt burns, my thighs ache, and I can barely breathe. The first three were quick. The last four have gotten progressively slower.Never mind. They’re torture devices. No wonder no one comes up here. Who would willingly climb all this?
I gaze longingly at the last stretch of steps, wishing there was some necklace that could magically transport me to the top.
One more,Lucan encourages me as I let out a breath and climb.If I were there, I’d carry you. Then work out all those knots in your muscles after.
Too bad you’re not here, I breathe, unattractively.
And uncontrollably, his claws make an appearance in my daydream. I imagine my skin denting from the slight pressure. The sting of pain lighting up my nervous system. His enormous hands leaving scratch marks along my inner thighs—
Focus,Lucan says hoarsely, like he can’t take it anymore.
I clear my head when I stop at the top and look to the right down the long hallway, refocusing on the task ahead of me.
After knocking softly on the first door, I try the handle, only to be met with a deadbolted door.
