Page 48
“Quill,” I beg, tired of his teasing. “Please.”
Another growl rumbles in his chest right as he presses into me—
There’s a low whistle from the shore.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Carver calls from where he’s waiting with a stack of towels and an amused grin on his lips. “We’ve been waiting rather impatiently to see if Rory welcomed the Embrace.”
“I’m going to stake him,” Quill mutters, the tension between us taut as a bowstring. He glances at me, gaze burning. I’m acutely aware of how close we are. All I have to do is shift my core a fraction of a centimeter and he’ll plunge inside me. His hands grip my bottom. “If you want to put on a show, I’m more than happy to oblige.”
I wrinkle my nose at him. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
“Vampire things,” he says mischievously as he leads us to shore.
No sooner do we touch the sand does he snatch the towels from his brother and hand one to me, shielding my naked body from sight as he loops a towel around himself.
“Glad to see you made it, Rory,” Carver says, flashing a friendly smile. With deeply tanned skin, dark hair, and a roguish smile, he’s handsome—absolutely gorgeous, if I’m being honest. His attention flicks to Quill. “Nerissa sent Cora with the information you requested.”
His brows pinch together. “Did she give an answer?”
Carver’s cool exterior is fragmented, if only for a moment, before he shakes his head.
Another wave crashes into the shore, sending a ripple of clear water over my bare feet. I wiggle my toes deeper into the black sand, fighting the urge to kick and splash and play. It’s so surreal that I’m even here, on a beach inhabited by vampires. Once again, I pinch my arm to ensure I’m not dreaming. I nearly sigh in relief at the minuscule prick of pain.
Quill turns to me, plastering on that dreamy smile. “Rory, there’s something I have to deal with. Carver’s going to take you to your room, but if you need anything at all, just ask one of my kindred, and they will provide it for you.” He tucks a wet strand of hair behind my ear. “There’s a lot I need to explain to you, and I’m sorry I have to leave you so soon.”
“Then don’t go,” I suggest, disliking this new neediness in my voice. “Who’s Nerissa, and why can’t she wait?”
He casts a wary glance at Carver, who sidles up next to me.
“Don’t worry,” Carver says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Quill just has to deal with some… creature politics.”
“Creature politics?” I ask, brow furrowing.
“It’s a long story.” Quill watches me for a moment. “I’ll return to you as soon as I’m free from this obligation, and then I’ll bring you up to speed on all things vampire.”
Before I can make an even bigger fool out of myself by begging him to reconsider, he dissolves into shimmering, black myst.
Carver bumps his hip into mine like we’re longtime friends. “You look like you have about a million questions on the tip of your tongue. Where would you like to start?”
“Where is the Shore of the Damned located?” I ask. My gaze travels the length of the shore as we meander toward a castle tucked behind a fence of sharp, jagged rocks clawing their way up from the earth. “I’ve never seen such a thing mentioned in an atlas.”
“We’re on an island off the coast of mainland Norica.” He gestures around us. “It was gifted to Quill’s sire many, many moons ago, and since his sire’s death, it has become home to our kindred.”
We venture past a fenced-off section of the beach where clusters of crimson flowers with intricate onyx webbing on their petals rustle in the breeze. I pause next to the garden and point at one of the mysterious blooms. “What types of flowers are growing in this garden?” My fingers itch to pluck one from the earth and press it, preserving its unique beauty forevermore. “I’ve never heard of any flowers that bloom on a beach.”
“It’s a graveyard.” His inky hair falls across his forehead. “Those flowers are what may come of us when we no longer wish to live and are buried for our second death.”
It’s hard to hide the surprise in my voice as I ask, “Vampires can choose death?”
“Yes.” His voice sounds far away as he smiles softly at the blossoms. He bends at the waist to lightly trace the pattern on one of the petals. “And we often do for one reason or another.”
A part of me wants to ask him if any of these blossoms are someone he once knew, but common sense tells me that would be tasteless. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, drinking in the salty air for a moment, maybe two. The scent of the sea rolls through me like the tide, filling every corner of my being as if I’ve dunked myself in a vat of it. And every loving stroke from the breeze is like the skimming of fingertips against skin in the middle of the night.
It’s exhilarating. Feeling everything so deeply, so fully.
When I finally open my eyes, I find Carver staring at me with a small smile playing on his lips.
“What is it?” I ask, confused. “Do I have something on my face?”
