That answer feels deliberate. I can’t help but smile at his avoidance technique.
“You talk about these like you remember when they were made.”
“I do.”
Bingo. There’s no denying it now.
I swallow hard. I knew what he was. I knew who he said he was. But hearing it like that makes it real in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. I’m truly standing next to a king. A vampire king at that. He looks nothing like what mainstream media depicts.
Still, I don’t step away. It’s like I can’t. I feel like a magnet. Something inside of me wants to get even closer to him.
We fall into an easy rhythm after that. I ask about a piece, and he gives me a clipped answer. I ask another question, and he elaborates despite himself. Somewhere along the way, his irritation fades, replaced by something closer to reluctant indulgence.
We’re different. That much is obvious.
But we also share strange similarities. An appreciation for quiet. A dislike of crowds that pretend to be connected. A mutual understanding of sorts. I feel closer to him than I have to anyone else besides Miriam.
Still, it’s clear that he’s different. The attention I’m getting from him is more than just curiosity. It’s like he’s studying me. He watches me closely while we talk like he’s memorizing reactions. Like he’s cataloging something he doesn’t quite understand yet.
Eventually, his attention sharpens.
“So tell me,” he says, turning to face me fully. “What are you doing working here?”
I tense.
The answer sits heavy in my chest. The truth is messy. Embarrassing. Still raw. Unbelievable to most, but maybe it’d be believable to him. Either way, it’s not something I want to get into right now.
Instead, I give him the easier version.
“Miriam thought it would be a good place for me,” I say. “She wanted me close.”
He doesn’t respond right away.
When he does, it’s with a look that tells me he doesn’t believe a word of it.
Thankfully, he lets it go.
Before I can exhale in relief, the door swings open.
A man steps inside, tall and rigid. He doesn’t hesitate to start talking, even though his eyes flick to me for a moment.
“My King. The situation outside is handled. The humans involved have had their memories wiped.”
A deadly growl vibrates through the air, and I watch as Orpheus snaps.
“Why,” he says coldly, “are you telling me this like it’s an accomplishment?”
The guard stiffens. “You asked for updates.”
“I asked for results,” Orpheus barks back. “I should not need to be informed that you managed to clean up your own mess.”
The air gets heavy. I can feel it pressing against my skin. A second ago, I would’ve said he was calm and level-headed, but after this, I can tell there’s a viciousness inside of him. A savage streak that takes little to provoke.
“I apologize,” the guard says carefully. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“You thought wrong,” Orpheus snarls. “Do I need to stand outside myself for you to remember how to do your job?”
The guard’s jaw tightens. He bows his head. “No, my King.”
