“I’m not like that.”
I can’t help the scoff that shoves from my lips, and I turn on him then. But his next words slap me right in the face.
“I was born a slave, Crymson.”
Dark eyes bore into mine. His confession lingers in the air between us as he steals away all my anger with a single sentence.
“I don’t have a name. I was a number to the king before ours. I was Rorrick’s slave for awhile. My mother was a slave woman I never knew. To top it off, I’m a mixed breed: part fae, part vampire. I’m literally nothing to no one.” His hands are on his thighs, and I see the lean muscle tone of his arms, his chest, his shoulders.
He isn’t skinny. But he isn’t as weighted with solid muscle like Rorrick is either.
Seven was a slave for Rorrick. A mixed fae slave. And that life wasn’t that terribly long ago for him to ever forget it.
“I’m sorry.” I turn and reach for his hand, and he lets me slide my fingers along his cool palm. I can’t help but eye thesterling silver ring on his index finger. My gaze lingers for so long, he notices.
An uneasy beat of quiet slips in, and I tear my gaze away from the metal that most lore says vampires shouldn’t be able to touch.
“Do vampires have magic?” The speed with which Christian dragged me through the castle is heavy in my mind, but I want to know everything. I need to know what they can do and how they’ll use it against me.
“They do.”
“What kind?”
The short, clipped answer he gave me and the hesitation that he holds makes it clear he doesn’t want to tell me more than he has to.
“Everyone’s different. Depends on the vampire.”
Another vague answer. But I won’t stop pressing him.
“Like what?”
“Uh, Rorrick can shapeshift. Mostly ravens and black cats. If you spot an overfed house cat making too much eye contact, it’s probably him.”
I wait for him to say more but he doesn’t.
“What’s your strangest ability?” I smile softly, trying hard to lure out the information I desperately want.
Laughter shakes through him ever so quietly. It surprises me so much that my own smile changes from something forced to something genuine. He makes it that easy. How does he do that?
“What? Tell me?” I press.
His eyes close, and he suddenly can’t look at me. Oh my god. Is this beautiful, immortal vampire …embarrassed?
“Tell me!” I’m smiling so hard now, and it keeps building the more he laughs.
“You said the strangest . . .”
I nod. I wait. I fucking die wanting to know.
“Um—” Why can’t he meet my eyes right now? “My fae magic... it—it changes parts of me to better... comfort my... mate.”
I blink at him for a long, long moment, but as hard as I try, I have no fucking idea what he’s trying to say.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s—nothing. Never mind.”
“No! Tell me! Please!”
