I don’t knowhow long it is before we’re allowed to leave. Whatever parade I’ve been moved around us seems to satisfy the King but I don’t know how Christian knows that. He doesn’t ask him if we can leave. He just grabs me by my arm when I nearly trip over air and keeps me upright as he directs me toward the double doors. The moment we’re outside of the room, my shoulders slump. The silence in the hallway is loud as we disrupt it with our footsteps. No one says anything.
I glance behind us at some point and blink in surprise to find Rorrick and Seven gone. It’s only Christian and me walking down the maze of hallways. My feet drag the further we get until it feels as if I’m mostly being held up by Christian’s hold on me. My strength begins to fail, but we still don’t speak, not until the doors to his room appear and he ushers me inside.
The door is closed and locked behind us before he leads me over to the lounge at the base of the bed and sits me on it. The lock of the door doesn’t trigger fear to spray all through my body like it used to. Locks don’t mean anything when the linesbetween who is truly the prisoner are so blurred. When I first thrown into this room, I was so certain Christian was my captor. But now I think … we’re both captives in this castle.
Getting off my feet has never felt so good. My eyes threaten to close, but I keep them stubbornly open, looking up at the vampire who’d ripped a heart from someone’s chest for daring to touch me. He’s still covered in blood. So am I. Somehow, despite my horror earlier, it doesn’t bother me now. I don’t have the strength to be horrified.
Christian’s eyes fall to the blood speckling my chest, and for the first time in the night, emotion flickers there.
“You’re hungry,” I murmur, watching him.
It’s only the two of us in this room, the same room where I’d awoken chained before. We’re in very different positions now. I wouldn’t say Christian respects me, but there’s something else, something. . . unique between us. It all changed when whatever power they think I have made an appearance. I don’t know how to control, how to use it to my advantage. I shouldn’t even be able to wield it but here we are. Still, I don’t understand what it is, or what I can do. I don’t understand the man in front of me. All I know is that I want him. If death is waiting at my door tomorrow, the least I can do is enjoy my time until I get there.
“You interrupted my dinner,” he replies. My eyes widen as he kneels before me and reaches for the straps of the high heels I’m still wearing. His cold fingers stroke along my ankles, undoing one delicate clasp before moving to the next one. The moment my feet are free from the contraptions, I sigh. There’s no better feeling than taking off heels after wearing them for the day.
“Feed from me,” I say, my voice stronger than I feel.
I don’t know where I get the strength from. The sudden thought of him biting me makes me perk up and clamp my thighs together. Where would he bite me? My chest? My neck? My inner thigh?
“No,” he says. One word. No room for argument. But I’ve never been one to back down.
“Why not?” I demand, my brows furrowing. “I’m right here and--”
“You belong to my father,” he says, his eyes trailing up to me. He’s still kneeling, putting us almost at eye level. As I stare at him, he rises fully, putting us at unequal heights.
“So what? That didn’t stop Rorrick and Seven,” I argue.
He stares at me, those cold eyes tracing patterns across my face. I don’t know what he’s thinking -- Christian is too hard to read -- but I can see the gears turning in his mind. After a few long minutes without words, I huff.
“Why even kill that guy then?” I growl. “Why do any of this? Why be nice? Just because I’m your father’s Promise? Just because I’m a gift on a silver platter? I don’t understand. Just let me fucking die if you don’t care.”
I’m so tired. I’m tired of feeling like a pendulum, swinging back and forth with my confusion. One moment I’m certain Christian likes me, and the other I’m not. I’ve been foolish to care for the three of them in some way. I know that. It still doesn’t make it any easier.
He’s in my face so fast, I only have time to gasp before his hand is around my throat. His long fingers span my entire neck, squeezing gently as he jerks my head back and looms over me like a dark shadow. He’d been doing me a favor, keeping the space between us before. Now he jerks me back, forcing me into a position of weakness. My instincts should be screaming at me to run, to flee from this predator as he bares his teeth. Instead, I mew and reach out shaking hands to rest against his sides, fisting his shirt.
“Rest assured, Pretty Pet,” he hisses. “I didn’t kill that vampire for my father’s benefit.” His eyes flash dangerously. “I did it for mine.”
His lips are on mine before I can even comprehend that he’s kissing me. It’s not exactly a sweet kiss. It’s more like he’s trying to consume me, as if he’s trying to drain me of my last dregs of energy. I open for him, let his tongue sweep inside, moan against his lips as he violently claims me. His hand squeezes tighter on my throat, cutting off my air, and still I kiss him, even as darkness eases in on my vision.
He jerks away as violently as he kissed me, flying to his feet and taking a few steps back in a stumble that surprises us both. I’m panting hard, my vision returning to normal as I watch him stare at me with his dark, depraved expression. This time, emotion slips through.
Hunger. Not just for blood.
We don’t exchange any words. I don’t reach for him. Despite the ache in my chest, we don’t make it harder than it has to be for ourselves.
Instead, he turns on his heel and leaves me in his bedroom. Alone.
TWENTY-ONE
Seven
I’d watchedChristian storm out of the room, his mood as dark as I’ve ever seen it. I don’t know what it is that Crymson said to him, but it can’t have been good for him to look so volatile. I wait a few minutes after he leaves before I slip into the room. Immediately, I notice Crymson where she sits on the chaise lounge, her body slumped where she’d fallen asleep. She hadn’t even tried to get on the bed. She hadn’t cleaned up.
Cursing Christian for leaving her in this state, I carefully pick her up and cradle her against my chest. She curls against me, her fingers stroking my shirt, her breathing somehow ragged even in her sleep. She feels lighter than I remember, and when I gently lay her down in the bed, I frown down at her sleeping form.
Rings of exhaustion line her eyes now when they never had before. Her cheeks look taut in a way that makes my brows furrow. Only as I study her body do I realize what’s happening.
She’s losing weight.
