Page 15 of The Darkness is Calling

YES. Ours. Let us play in her

blood. We want her.

I clench my teeth and draw a slow breath, focusing on the beat of my heart, trying to calm it before I speak.

“Miss Borislova, welcome,” I say in a neutral tone, because I am a damn good actor trying to hide the madness that has exploded this time even more violently than the first. “My name is Artem Koronov. Welcome to our home.”

For a moment, she says nothing.

Doesn't even sketch anything.

Only her gaze moves across my face, from one eye to the other, but I see neither fear nor fascination, the way I usually do in those who meet me for the first time.

But there is something there, and I can’t figure out what it is.

What is she thinking?

If I could crack her skull open just enough to peek inside and see what thoughts are passing through her mind right now, I would do it without hesitation. Unfortunately, anatomically speaking, it is impossible to satisfy my great curiosity unless I make her tell me.

Preferably by force.

No.

Fuck...

If I do that, something tells me there won’t be a wedding with a corpse dressed in a bridal gown.

“Please call me Ekaterina. Or Katya,” she says in a serious voice, taking my hand with her long, slender fingers and pulling me out of my morbid fantasy. “I truly apologize for the inconvenience my arrival here has caused. I said from the beginning that this was a bad idea, and I still stand by that opinion, even if no one seems to care.”

She withdraws her hand immediately, and the warmth of her palm produces a roar inside my mind.

But I try to focus on her words and understand what she means by the dissatisfaction she is clearly displaying.

She seems to be a woman who speaks her mind without a filter, and I appreciate that, even if it can be dangerous in our world. But it is precisely her instinct to rebel against clear orders that stirs the voices in my head even more.

She will fight us.

She will struggle when we make her

bleed.

I feel myself losing control over the voices.

Even though on the surface I am as calm as possible, on the inside my blood is boiling while my skin begins to prickle.

Never have I felt such a violent reaction toward someone I am touching for the first time.

And God, I hope this will not become a habit around her.

All I can do is hope I will grow more comfortable while she is in the same house as me, and that these impulses will quiet with time.

“Let’s try to make your stay as pleasant as possible and avoid disrupting your schedule too much,” I tell her as simply as I can.

But she frowns slightly.

“Why would my schedule be disrupted? Is there a specific lights-out time?”

There isn’t an ounce of innocence in her question, only a small dose of sharp irony that makes Sasha fight back a grin. One cold look from me brings him back to the seriousness the moment requires, while I try to cling to the reality I live in now, not the one inside my head.