“Close the door,” Selene orders in a hushed whisper.
Tristen moves, and as soon as the door shuts, the silencing spell ignites. “You’re the brother,” Selene states with a lackluster tone.
Nothing about Tristen is lacking. Nothing. Yes, he’s a goof, but I would be wary of challenging him in a duel. That smile he wears? It’s sociable and playful. It hides his fangs, which he will use in a fight. If need be.
He’s not ruthless. Each deed undergoes evaluation, though frequently he deems the assessment worth the gamble. Tristen is a predator who finds satisfaction in beguiling his prey into thinking they’re acquaintances.
Each time you laugh, he sees behind your walls.
Every time you smirk at his joke, he peels another layer off your defenses.
Tristen, bless his foolish heart, tries to lighten the mood. “Challenge accepted.” He flashes his trademark half-smirk.
“What challenge?” Selene crosses her arms.
“The battle to make you see me as a friend.”
“I need allies with armies. Not best friend bracelets.”
“My queen.” Tristen slaps his palm to his heart, “I assure you I make the finest bestie trinkets. They shall outshine your crown.” He smiles, and so does Selene.
That smile. Why hasn’t Selene shown it to me before?
“He knows everything? Titus, hello? Have you told Tristen everything?”
Thump, thump!I glare at her pulse. How would it feel to have it tenderly hum against my lips as I drank her down?
“Titus!” Selene snaps.
Bloodlust. Again.
I turn abruptly and grab a vial of blood from my pocket. I drank only half a ration this morning. I packed this in case I need to recharge.
“Titus?” Tristen steps closer.
I shake my head. “I’m fine. It’s Everett’s magic.” I gulp down the small vial.
Lies. It has nothing to do with Everett’s magic.
“That’s not fae magic in your eyes, brother,” Tristen whispers; his concern corners me to answer for my crimes.
Selene’s sigh sinks into my skin, relaxing me. “We will get this under control,” she assures me. “We’re leaving the castle. I can’t risk these walls. We’ll train every day we’re able to.”
“Training?” I turn back around.
Yeah, I see you, brother. Tris knows I’m lying. I didn’t need that blood because of the magic. I needed it because I was about to sink my teeth into the queen’s neck.
Tristen steps closer, ready to tackle me.
Yesterday I felt the need to taste her. Today it’s worse; it’s spreading like a rash. I see it. Feel it. I’m trying not to itch it. Once I do, I won’t be able to stop.
At this point, Tristen is going to cling to me like a monkey on a branch. He knows the signs of bloodlust.
Shit, he is questioning why I’m having it.
Am I deprived of blood? Marginally, but that doesn’t provoke urges this strong. A vampire would need weeks without blood to trigger bloodlust, or they would have to be regulars who binge on blood to get drunk.
I’m neither.
