Taking a deep breath, I stand and turn to playfully ruffle Cole’s hair. He swats my arm away with a grumble, but nods, accepting my decision.
The Bleeder takes me downstairs, and as we pass the praised room, I glimpse more stunned expressions as I voluntarily return to what amounts to a death trap.
But I survived last time. And now I have an agenda.
A motive.
I have questions I need answered.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SERPENTES
The door slams behind me,and the sound of bolts sliding into place echoes through the private room. Lavish fresh sheets and sparkling-clean tiles glimmer under the red lighting, a far cry from the state I left it in this morning.
My feet are light as I make my way to the bed. My focus lingers on the details I couldn’t grasp the last time I was here. In the corner, there are two leather chairs and a small round table with an empty wineglass in the centre.
I sit perched on the edge of the bed, my hands clenched in the silk bedding. I enjoy the sensation—so smooth. It reminds me of all the times I sat by the river near the valley of moonflowers, plunging my fingers into the water to feel the tranquil current slide by. It’s a surreal feeling—a reminder of something ancient yet free from the haunting memories that usually accompany such musings.
But before I can lose myself to the moment, the clink of glass pricks my ears. Every follicle of hair on my bodyrises like that of a harvestman spider with a disturbed web. Near the leather couches, the darkness ripples, and red liquid splashes into the wineglass.
“Thirsty?” I ask, unsure why. A part of me wonders if he has access to blood on command.
The shadows partially disperse to allow a black, clawed hand to emerge. He takes the wine and pushes it to the other side of the table. “It’s not for me.”
“Is it for me?”
“If you wish.” His deep, husky voice has an allure that is both tempting and eerie. Like ice against my skin, leaving a faint burn that ignites a visceral spark.
“Is it?—”
“Blood?” he finishes for me with a low chuckle as the shadows glide and settle into the farthest corner, away from the wineglass. “No, kamai.”
I swivel around to face him and ask, “Why do you keep calling me that? What does it mean?”
He doesn’t respond. The darkness remains so still and silent that if I closed my eyes, I would feel completely alone. With a sigh, I turn away and glare down at the ground. I grip the mattress tightly to keep myself in place and away from the nightwalker.
“I have questions for you,” I say. “And you’re going to answer them truthfully.”
“Nightwalkers don’t typically do honesty. We have a liar’s tongue.”
“Then restrain it for ten fucking minutes,” I hiss.
A hint of a laugh escapes him. “Go on, then.”
Closing my eyes to help resist his damn allure, I ask, “The bite you gave me—does it mean something? Am I turning into atruenightwalker?”
Silence. It’s like he takes pleasure in watching me squirm. The weight of not knowing whether I’ll burn in the sunlight or continue to walk in it sits heavily on my heart. If I ever became undead, I would have to cut all ties with my friends and Cole. I wouldn’t be myself anymore. I’d be a mindless creature driven by blood thirst and frantic, panicked heartbeats.
I’d be even more of a monster than I am now.
“No. For that to happen, you would need to drink my blood within three days of the bite…then die. And as of right now, kamai, I want you alive.”
I open my eyes. “Why?”
“You’re part human, why not ensure you keep what’s left of your soul?” The darkness stirs. It flows past the table, and the wineglass disappears. The darkness continues to move until it reaches the bed. I quickly close my eyes again. His allure seems to stem from a connection through sight.
The mattress beside me sinks, tipping my body towards him. Sucking in a deep breath, I shuffle away and turn my back to the shadows. I hold my knees tightly to keep myself grounded.
