“Liar!” he sneers, snapping her with a whip of dark smoke that leaves a flaming red mark across her cheek.
Nana rolls her shoulders back and lifts her chin, refusing to let him intimidate her. “I’ve made my choice, Casimir, and there is nothing you can say or do that will make me change my mind.”
“Don’t be a fool, Nana.” He offers her a cold smirk. “Both you and I know there are many things I could do to make you change your mind.”
There’s such malice dripping from his voice that I begin to fear for Nana’s life.
“I’m certain Aster wouldn’t want to see you, let’s say...” Tapping his lips, he pretends to contemplate. “Dead?” He smiles one of his sickly smiles.
“You wouldn’t dare!” It’s obvious from her shocked expression that she didn’t expect this. “I thought you said you loved me?”
“Oh, I do.” He cocks his head at her. “But I do not share.” His fist clenches around the glass in his hand, making it shatter, a mix of red wine and fresh blood running down his arm. Stepping closer to Nana, he caresses her neck in an almost tender way before extending his hand toward her lips.
“Want a taste? I can assure you my blood is a lot more tasteful thanhis.” The last word comes out a hiss.
When she doesn’t move, he fists her hair and pulls her head back. “Do you think I have forgotten who you were before you met him?”He traces the path from her collarbone to her earlobe with his nose, then quickly pulls away. “He has ruined your scent.”
Nana stands stiff as a board. “He will kill you for this.”
Casimir lets out a low laugh. “Oh, he’ll do something far worse than that.” His lips tighten. “Why is it so hard to convince you to rule by my side? I have power enough for both of us, and even shared, the two of us will be more powerful than the rest of them together. You’ll have the eternal life you’ve always wanted.”
“I’d rather burn than share it with you,” she snarls.
His nostrils flare. “If you say so.” He bares his fangs. “But at least let me have a taste before you go, for old times’ sake, hmm?”
Nana tries to pull back, but his black tendrils are still holding her in place. Fangs glistening, he bites down, drinking in, and for a moment, the only sounds in the room are his moans and her whimpers.
He yanks his head back with a growl, blood streaming down his chin, a ravenous expression on his face. “Him.” It comes out as a guttural growl. “Why do you taste like him?”
“We’re mated.” It’s barely a whisper.
“What did you just say?” He jerks her head back. Her pale iridescent hair is now tainted with blood.
Floating closer, I catch a glimpse of his distorted expression. This is not going to end well. By the look on Nana’s face, she knows it too.
“What. Did. You. Just. Say?” he repeats in an eerily calm voice that promises retribution.
To her credit, she lifts her chin and stares him square in the eyes. “I said we are mated, and there is nothing you can do about it. Not in this lifetime. Or the next. Or any that may follow. I amhis.”
He throws his head back and lets out a guttural roar, his face twisted in fury. Before I can blink, wisps of black smoke snap Nana’s neck with a deafening crack in the otherwise silent room. Her body crumples to the floor.
I stare at her lifeless body.
“You fool,” he sneers, flipping her over onto her back with a kick.
If he regrets what he’s done, I can’t tell.
Reaching down, he unsheathes the dagger at her waist, the golden stone gleaming in the dim light. He studies it with a contemplative look upon his face. “Seems someone was seeking immortality after all.” He snickers.
Pulling out his own dagger, he holds the two next to each other. One light, one dark. My breath catches. His dagger is a replica of my own black shard.
With a scream of fury, he hurls the dark dagger at the umbra who showed Nana in earlier. It evaporates into a puff of black smoke, its remnants filling the air with the sickening sweet odor of rot and decay.
“Fix this,” he says with a flick of his wrist toward Nana’s dead body as he turns his back on her. She may as well be a sack of potatoes for all he cares. “Place her outside. Somewherehewill find her.”
The umbra, seemingly unfazed by the recent kill, responds with a fluid bow. If its master’s fury has affected it, it doesn’t show.
The stench still lingers in my nose when I wake up from the vivid dream. Fighting the urge to vomit, I roll over onto my side and blink my eyes open, but the berth is so dark that I wonder if I’ve lost my sight. Then two things hit me in rapid succession: the stench that, despite waking from the dream, is only growing stronger, and the vacuum-like silence—a silence I recognize all too well, even without the smell of decay filling the small berth.
