“It’s not your fault,” she assured her, though she’d already said that, and she doubted it made a bit of difference in the grand scheme of things.
Penelope could practically taste Asmia’s despair and it pained her. While they weren’t all that close, she liked Asmia. She was funny and smart and rather entertaining. She’d come to enjoy Asmia’s stories, whether they were of past events or mere reports or her nights out. Though she looked the part of a fragile, delicate woman, the fairy had some serious steel in her spine. She’d regaled Penelope with stories of her training, and she’d come to realize there weren’t many who could go up against Asmia and survive.
Yet right now, Asmia looked like she could be knocked over with a feather.
“Why would Perfidious do that? Why would he mess with me like that?”
There was only one reason Penelope could think of, but telling Asmia that a demon had set his sights on her didn’t seem appropriate. She definitely wouldn’t want to come to that revelation.
“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” she prompted, sniffling.
Penelope got up and retrieved a box of tissues from the table, passed it to Asmia when she returned.
“Of course he will. Taayin cares for you.”
While she didn’t know the details of their relationship, Penelope had been at the mansion long enough to see there was a connection between Asmia and Taayin. They cared for one another deeply, were, perhaps, even in love.
“I wouldn’t blame him if he never spoke to me again.”
With a sigh, Penelope pressed her shoulder to Asmia’s. “It’ll work itself out. Just give it some time.”
“Time seems to be all I have these days,” the Fae muttered softly.
Not sure what to say to that, Penelope remained silent, leaning gently against Asmia, hoping to comfort.
“How are things with Obsidian?” Asmia asked with a sniffle, clearly wanting to change the subject.
“Good.” She smiled. “Very good, actually.”
Asmia’s gaze dropped to Penelope’s neck briefly. “I noticed he’s feeding from you now.”
On instinct, she reached up and touched the marks he’d left just a short time ago, remembering in vivid detail how he’d sank his fangs into her as his heavy erection had been lodged deep inside her. She’d never felt anything quite so pleasurable. The euphoria she felt when he fed from her had taken her by surprise in the beginning, but now she found she craved it.
“Just wait until you can return the favor,” Asmia noted.
Penelope studied her face as thoughts of feeding from Obsidian danced in her head. Until recently, she hadn’t given it much thought, never truly accepting that she might one day be what he was. While it wasn’t a subject she was completely comfortable with, there was a certain appeal to the idea.
“Don’t worry. It’ll be as good for him as it is for you.”
“Why is it you don’t have to feed?” she asked.
Asmia’s gaze swung over to the windows. “I do, but not on blood. Fae feed on emotions. It’s one of the reasons we offer ourselves for the pleasure of the males. It sates both needs at one time. Our craving for sex isn’t only about the physical aspect. It’s more than the release. We draw from the males, use their emotions to sustain us.”
“Wish someone would teach me how to do that.”
Asmia’s curious gaze swung over to her. “Do what?”
“Convert emotions to … something else.” Penelope exhaled heavily. “I’m overwhelmed by emotions of others. It’s been easier since I’ve been here because I can’t sense the emotions of angels or Fae. As long as I don’t interact with Oliver or Winnie much, I tend to do fine. But out there … out in the world, it consumes me.”
“So you’re an empath?”
She nodded. “That’s the conclusion I’ve come to.”
“Well, that explains your relationship with your brother,” she muttered.
“How so?”
“Oliver’s full of anger and rage,” Asmia said. “It’s even difficult for me to be around him and he would provide plenty of fuel for my existence. In your case, you’d want to keep your distance due to your sensitivities. I think he feels as though you’ve abandoned him.”
