There was never disturbing noise, but there was something comforting in occasionally hearing another person cough or sneeze, the quiet thud of boots, or the very rare mumbling of conversations. The building felt empty, and with that emptiness, the sense of home was lacking, as was the warmth.
I shivered. I was cold, the building was cold. Everything was cold now.
Selene continued to drag me forward and up the staircase towards our rooms. No guard again.
“Where are the guards?” I asked.
Selene’s response was to tighten her hold on my wrist and growl. I meeped at the pain of the increased pressure—I would be bruised.
“You’re hurting me,” I complained. The pressure eased, but I was pulled forward with greater speed, almost falling as I struggled to keep pace when we reached the door to our rooms.
Selene pushed the door open with such force that it whacked loudly against the wall inside. I was released, stumbling forward precariously as the door was slammed shut behind me. I caught myself using the arm of the sofa for support, holding myself up, trying desperately to not look as weak as I felt.
I regained my balance and turned around to face her. Her eyes glowed brightly, liquid silver shimmering in the grey, dull light of the room.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
Selene did not reply. She stared at me hard, a soft rumble of a growl vibrating the space between us. She stepped forward, and the quiet rumbling of her growl grew louder.
“What are you doing?” I asked nervously. Selene had closed the space between us, moving in that way that was too fast and always left me feeling a little dizzy and on edge.
Her hands gripped my face—firm enough to stop my movement, but soft enough to not cause discomfort.
“Are you injured?” she asked, the growl low in her chest, a vibrato that seemed to charge the air between us.
“N-no,” I stuttered, feeling confused by the unexpected questioning. I was weak, exhausted—I wanted to sleep for a week—but I was not injured. A few bruises, maybe, but otherwise, I was okay. She watched me critically, as if not believing me.
“What?” I asked, my frustration and anger coming back to the surface.
“You have no concept of what any of this means, do you?” she asked, wrapping her arms around my waist, pulling me flush against her chest and dipping her head to my neck.
I felt like a ragdoll in her arms. “You have no idea of the power you wield,” she continued, inhaling deeply, pressing her nose against me, her words muffled against my flesh.
A silence fell between us. I felt that I couldn’t—or shouldn’t—speak. Selene’s behaviour was almost erratic. She only held me in such a way, breathing in heavily against me neck, only used my scent to calm herself when her instincts were overwhelming.
It felt like a lifetime could have passed in the silence that only her breaths broke before—“I’m scared,” she whispered so softly I wasn’t sure I had heard her.
I tried to push away from her to look her in the eyes, but her hold on me was too tight—I was too weak, and she did not let up.
Her hold only grew tighter at my meek attempt to move away.
“Scared of what?” I asked, instead of continuing to try and create space between us, my own voice shaking. Selene did not fear anything. No one could challenge her. No one was her equal. Was fear the cause of her behaviour? The cause of her betrayal?
“Of what will happen now. I cannot hide this. Slow the spread of information, perhaps. Maybe others will not believe it. Not until the Royal Conference, that is. But what then?” she said. I couldn’t follow her. I didn’t understand the meaning behind what she was saying.
Suddenly, she lifted her head from my neck, and her glowing silver eyes met mine with a fierce seriousness. “We must leave,” she said. “Immediately.”
“Selene, slow down,” I demanded as she retook my wrist and dragged me, stumbling towards the door.
“Rylan,” she called as she opened the door.
“Selene, stop,” I tried again and attempted to pull my wrist free. What did she mean by leave? Why? And right this moment? She turned on me fast, teeth bared, and gave a growl of warning. Her eyes seemed wild, like an animal’s. I was shocked into silence and stopped any attempt to free myself from her grip.
She turned from me and called Rylan’s name again. I didn’t know what to do. I had witnessed her struggle with instinct before, but she had never seemed so close to being entirely out of control. Stories of vampires lost to instinct never ended well. My ears were filled with the rush of my blood, and a strange feeling—like cold water—fell down my spine. I shivered.
Rylan appeared as if he had materialised into being, his movement too fast for me to track. I jumped back in fright, and Selene responded by pinning Rylan against the open door by his neck with her free hand. She growled loudly, animalistically.
I could see her venom coating her fangs, and I remembered Dr. Phears's lecture on venom. During intense fighting, the production of venom could increase tenfold. Another’s venom was inherently dangerous to a vampire. Small doses were non-harmful, easy for the vampire immune system to fight, and posed little threat during mating, but in conflict, venom in much larger volumes acted as a painful paralytic.
