Chapter 31
The Hunter Becomes the Hunted
Elizabeth paused in the doorway, her pulse quickening at the sight of Caspian alone at the table. Mammond, Finnigan, and Asmodeus were all notably absent tonight, leaving only the soft crackle of the fire and the scuffles of servants setting trays of food and goblets on the table. The silence felt intimate in a way, and Caspian fixed his gaze on her as she made her way to her seat.
To her surprise, she noted that Caspian also had a plate set in front of him tonight, and he smiled tightly at her as she sat down, a warmer welcome than she typically received.
She eyed him warily, wondering where Asmodeus and Mammond were, if they were in the castle or if they were out hunting.
Dinner was served, a cut of roast for her, and to her surprise, Caspian was also served a dish. On his plate was a cut of red meat much less well done than hers, nearly raw and oozing red. She watched in fascination as he ate a few bites of meat but pushed the root vegetables and leafy greens around on his plate. He tried a leaf and wrinkled his nose, returning his attention to the meat.
He caught her staring and smiled tensely again. His smile looked stiff and cold, but he was clearly making an effort to look less intimidating tonight. She wondered why.
It was a nice change, she supposed, not to be the only one eating. Without him drinking blood that stained his teeth red, she wasn’t constantly reminded of what he was. She could almost pretend that she was dining with a man, and not a demon.
She hesitated and couldn’t stop herself from asking, “I thought you couldn’t eat mortal food.”
“We are carnivores. Hunters. Red meat is okay—it doesn’t taste like it did when I was mortal— but I can stomach it.”
“Er. What happens if you eat a vegetable or a dinner roll?”
Caspian raised a brow.
She slid her plate closer to him. “Indulge my curiosity?”
He elegantly speared a piece of carrot and stuck it in his mouth.
She watched, fascinated, as he frowned and chewed. His nose wrinkled, and he shook his head. “Like eating charcoal. Your body reminds you that you are not mortal at every turn if you try.”
After she finished eating, he rose and offered her his arm. Brusquely, he said, “I’ll walk you back to your chambers.”
She slipped her elbow through his, and they walked together through the castle. An awkward silence fell between them. He turned to her as they climbed the stairs. “What are you reading today?”
She glanced at him, wondering why the sudden interest in small talk. “Nothing that you would find interesting, I’m sure.”
“Try me,” he challenged.
She smiled and chose not to answer. She had learned her lesson the first time.
They walked in silence for a moment, and he took another brave stab at conversation. “So, your family, are they well?”
“I’m sure they are, but I haven’t heard from them very much. My father hasn’t written to me again. My mother writes once a week, always to tell me to come to my senses and return home.”
They reached her door, and he stood on the landing, making no effort to leave. She placed her fingers on the handle, wondering if there was a chance he had forgotten it was supposed to be the night she gave him blood.
“It’s our night together,” he reminded her gently.
So much for that idea. “It is.”
He stood still as a statue, as if waiting for some signal.
She looked around the hall and asked hesitantly, “I suppose you’d like to come inside?”
He nodded solemnly. “I would like that.”
Soon, she stood across from Caspian in her chamber, and he closed the door behind him. The soft click of the door closing echoed in the stillness. Her chamber felt much smaller with him in it, and the air grew thick with tension. Was he also thinking about the last time he was here?
Her mouth grew dry, and she fidgeted with the beading on her bodice, wishing him to feed from her quickly and begone.
