Marhus and Leilah stand to leave, and Blaise makes a move to follow them.
“Not you, Blaise.” He turns in his tracks and plops unceremoniously onto the seat Leilah just moved out of. I wait a few moments after their departure to make sure they are no longer within hearing range before I turn my attention back to my second-in-command. “How is the girl?”
“Aimee, you mean?” He smirks before lifting both legs and crossing them at the ankles on my desk. “She’s a spitfire, isn’t she? Easy on the eyes, too.”
“That’s not what I mean, you moron.” I grit my teeth in annoyance. Leave it to Blaise to talk about a female’s appearance, when what I want to know is if she will prove to be an asset in our hands. My shadows churn at the edge of my feet, as if to call me on my bullshit. Fine, I admit she looks rather delectable, with those golden doe-eyes and those long, delicate limbs that I could easily imagine wrapped around me. I can’t quite shake off the image of her from last night, with her stare burning with hatred, and that gloriously curvy, almost naked body. Talk about a first impression…
“I think she might warm up to me a little,” Blaise says in response. “Although it will take more than a few conversations to gain her trust. It wouldn’t hurt if you’d make an effort, too.”
“I don’t have the time or the interest to get cozy with the girl, Blaise. I have more pressing matters on my mind, if you don’t realize.” My voice raises a fraction.
“Then you won’t mind if I cozy up to her, nice and good,” he says. I can feel my shadows getting more agitated, pouring off of me and onto the floor. “She’s quite fierce for a magicless Fae, and you know I don’t back out of a challenge. Especially one that looks likethat.”
“Blaise…” I warn in a stern voice, but he ignores me completely.
“I mean, have you seen the rack on her? Begging to be tasted, I swear! And that bouncy ass, I mean, man, she’s a living, breathing, wet dream.”
“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare!” I shout, losing control, and my shadows darken the room completely, before I manage to gain composure and reel them back in. What the fuck was that? My reaction takes me by surprise, but Blaise doesn’t seem shaken in the slightest. He just grins broadly, readjusting in his seat.
“If you don’t want to share, Killian, you just have to say the word. Don’t pretend I didn’t see you ogling her last night like a prepubescent male seeing a female for the first time.”
“I did no such thing,” I grumble at the accusation.
“Right, right… How could I forget that our mighty Vampire King is all work and no play?” He laughs it off, not caring that my shadows could lash out at him at any moment.
“She might be enticing, Blaise, but so will her sister. They share the same appearance as twins. And Aurora Vaureghain is our end goal here, never forget.”
“Yes, well, she could be an entrée to the main course that is her sister,” Blaise says. “At the very least, you could try to get on her good side, no? She might be more willing to offer us the location of her twin if she doesn’t hate your guts.”
A sigh escapes my lips as I run a hand through my hair. He might be right. “And what do you propose I do, mmm?”
Blaise sits straighter in his seat, smiling widely.
“Unleash some of that charm I know you have hidden under layers and layers of cold aloofness and self-control. Invite her to dinner. Wine and dine her and make her realize that you…we…but mostly you, are not the despicable, evil creature she thinks you are. From what I can sense, she knows nothing about vampires, besides the blatant lies the Fae spread about our kind.”
I absent-mindedly respond, “Mhm.” I have no patience whatsoever for these mind games. But if playing nice with the magicless twin can bring me closer to our goal, I will have to begrudgingly oblige.
CHAPTER 9
Aimee
Forthelastthreedays, I have dodged the same number of dinner invitations from the Vampire King.
The first time Nella came into my bedchamber at dusk to announce to me that the King is expecting me to have supper with him, I laughed bitterly and told her to relay word for word, the following message:
“Tell that despicable monster I would rather starve myself to death while ravens pick on my skin endlessly than ever consider sitting at the same table with him, pretending to be civil.”
Her face reddened to ripe tomato levels before she left, mumbling to herself, and I am not entirely sure she carried on the message as intended.
The next evening, to my utter surprise, she sheepishly declared that Killian is graciously requesting my presence for dinner again. I just gave her a curt answer, .
Earlier tonight, when she entered my room with a guilty look on her face, I just sighed and shook my head. She didn’t utter another word before leaving to let him know about my refusal.
He’s a stubborn bastard, I’ll admit. But so am I, and I have no desire to eat my evening meal in his presence, as if this is all normal, and I am not a fucking prisoner in his castle.
I’m careful as I pick crackers and dried fruits from the platters spread on top of my bed and fold them neatly in a stolen linen, before I hide the food in the back of my wardrobe. I’ve been saving small amounts of non-perishable food every day, making provisions for my escape.
I have also been spending my time scouting the castle floors to find the best route to take during my escape. Leaving the stone walls doesn’t seem to pose a problem. Finding a way out of the surrounding gardens is another story. I have taken many fresh-air walks by now, and none has been fruitful. No matter where I searched, there is no damn gate, door or portal in sight. And the gigantic walls are so steep and polished, there is no crack or brick out of place that I could grip for a successful climb. The entire place is made to keep everything out, or inside, in my particular case.
