Prey
Fuck.
Twelve
Aston
His back is to me, but he’s greatly aware of my presence the moment the door quietly clicks closed behind me. I know he hears every single detail from the slow stride of my shoes to the warm glass of blood I pour myself in his favorite little study. The bottle dribbles at the end, and a few droplets land on the shelf next to a set of law books.
The small room consists of an entire wall of old musty books, actually. Most of them are so ancient that the bindings are fraying apart. Other than his books, he has a lone leather chair and a messy desk with too many unread notes that he can’t bother to waste his time with.
That’s Royale in a nutshell though. Boring and wasteful.
Just as he is with Kyra.
I pull a first edition copy of—whatever is nearest, really—and the moment I open it, a thin page crinkles out and wafts down slowly to land in front of my sneaker. I toss the book back down with a dusty slam. It now sits carelessly out of place, and I know it’ll drive him crazy.
Whenever he bothers to look my way that is.
The way Royale ignores me is more deliberate today than most days.
Sure he usually hates me and avoids my presence, but today he’s displaying a very special hate indeed. And it makes me wild with desire to take it further.
“Good evening!” I say loudly, my smile stretching even more with the idea of making him crack that smooth facade of clam he always carries so well.
Fuck his calm.
I want to see his chaos.
Any little emotion. Any of it. Crist, why is he so chronically boring?
Still his back is to me as he simply looks out at the dark grassy expanse that rolls across the estate. Sure, he can try to ignore me.
But I know I’ll win eventually.
I take a long sip of the fresh blood Acessa herself collected this morning. The taste of the new stock washes over my tongue and though he is a stoically boring vampire, Royale does appreciate the finest stock.
“Are you going to tell anyone?” I ask casually as I circle his tiny study. I stumble against the fine rug and leave the corner overturned as I go. I drag my hand along the sleek black fireplace and leave a nice smear of blood across his mantle as I go. The embers inside are dwindling, but still warm.
Just like she felt when I stood close enough to taste the worry in her every heavy exhale.
His lack of a response as he stands like a fucking second rate Batman overlooking Gotham baits me to push him further. Harder.
I need to fuckingbreakhim.
“Did you grow tired of her?” I take a long drink and drain the cup. The glass doesn’t shatter as I toss it onto the stack of scattered papers lining his desk. Blood rains across the pages in a splatter of pretty art. “Did you—did you kill her, Royale?” His knuckles crack as he flexes his fingers slowly into his palm. “She once told me she would have done it to you if given the opportunity.” The profile of his face is all I can see, and the strain of his jaw is like cocaine hitting my system after the last three decades of numbness in this goddamn monstrous body. “She said that right before I fucked her, Royale. Right before I made her cum.”
It's a lie, but it’s a damn good one though. Because it’s the one thing that always seems to shake and rattle his cage.
And this time is no different.
Then his hands are fisting into my shirt. He drags me so hard and fast that I can’t help the laughter that stumbles from my lips as he slams me into the shelves. Books tumble and break apart as they hit the tile floor with a series of fluttering thuds.
“Shut the fook up, Cardence!” Royale seethes through sharp, clenched teeth. “You don’t know what you’re fooking talking about!”
My heart nearly patters with fright. I wish it fucking would. I with the quiet thing would hammer like it used to. I wish he’d just lose control.
Attack!
