by Kelsey Quick
“What happened?” he asks, studying me. I’m scared to admit that I haven’t been wearing the Laisse proudly, but I do anyway.
“Anaya found out about the Laisse chain when Seriesa announced it. Of course, she didn’t like that.”
He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I will handle Anaya.”
I nod and look away. It becomes quiet between us, like neither one of us wants to tackle the monster subject Seriesa would bring up.
“Did Seriesa say anything to you? Before I stopped her?” he asks. I’m grateful that he brought it up, because it would be nice to know what the hell is going on.
“Yes. She mentioned how I disgraced Lord Giomar. Saying that she needed confirmation but that she knew that it was me,” I report. “I remember... she asked me when I first arrived if I was the one to disgrace the council at Distribution. I told her I wasn’t, but I don’t think she believed me. Do you think she told that bastard about me?”
Zein narrows his eyes in reprimand.
“What? You think he’s a bastard, too,” I murmur, my teeth chattering from everything that just happened.
Zein nods away his expression in a “you’re-not-wrong” fashion. “Your intuition serves you well. I believe that to be the case, also. And after that evening in the dining hall, he most likely gave her permission to kill you on behalf of his reputation.”
I swallow hard. Giomar would do that?
“He would jeopardize relations with his colleague for the sake of hurt pride?” I furrow my eyebrows.
“Do you actually find that surprising, Wavorly? In a Stratocracy driven by power?”
Good point. “I guess you’re right. I suppose I always had a feeling he was heartless.”
Zein shrugs and steps closer to me. “That’s most of the vampires in Cain. We are raised that way.”
My tongue hinges on a particular question as he inspects the places on my neck—where Seriesa grabbed me. His empathy contradicts his statement.
“...You were raised that way, too?”
His eyes find mine for a moment and that’s the only answer he gives.
“Giomar will regret his actions, I will make sure of it. But I will need to file a report with the elders and the council. To let them know I had to kill a servant for intent to interfere with my supply.”
The elders... I’ve heard of them before. Giomar mentioned them at dinner that night, and the book of The Setting Sun... “The Elders oversee the council of five, right? The supreme overlords. Could you not just take the matter with Giomar to them?”
Zein chuckles, “Giomar has probably already told the Elders about you, and my lack of control over your mouth.”
Embarrassed, I grip my robes tightly and shoot my eyes to the corner of the room.
“Involving the Elders would only bring suspicion down upon my regard for you and my competence as a general. Especially since I killed Seriesa myself, prior to awaiting trial. Some things are better left handled in the dark.”
His regard for me?
Something catches my attention through my rampaging thoughts, but do I dare to ask? Why not? “Was killing her worth saving me?”
“...What kind of question is that?”
I cock my head at him. “She’s a vampire. I’m a human. Her life is worth more than mine, allegedly.”
He laughs and eyes me strangely. “My care for you is far too great to risk letting her live,” he says, wrapping an arm loosely around my waist and sending my heart into overdrive.
“You expect me to believe that? How can you possibly care about—”
“Silence,” he whispers. I barely manage to stop, my tongue aching to refute him.
“You would like to think that all us vampires see in humans is blood, but that is not always so. Just like not all humans are as magnanimous as their nature implies.”
I nearly retaliate but think better of it as he continues.
“Could you believe me then, if I told you the truth? Could you accept it because it’s from the lips of a vampire?” His berating tone softens as he leans forward. “That I saved you that night out of senseless compassion?”
My heart skips a beat as his hand runs through my hair, his stormy eyes seeking to captivate mine. And I let them.
I did miss him.
His hand skirts my back and he pulls my body to his.
“Could you accept such a trite answer?” he persists. “That my unexplainable regard for your life has, at some point throughout your stay here, developed into an equally unexplainable desire for your heart?”
My breath won’t come forth as I stand rigid, frozen in time. This has to be wrong.
“Wavorly.” He grabs my chin. “I have a reputation to protect as one of five generals of Cain, as I’m sure you are more than capable of understanding.”
Through blinding confusion, I connect the dots. The reason why I wasn’t chosen at Distribution in front of the crowd… and why Savvy, Katarii, and I were taken to the chariot through the unused corridors. Why he’s kind to me behind closed doors.
His reputation must drive him. It makes sense. Wait, what am I thinking? None of this makes sense!
“But I… I don’t get it,” I say through my blush and pounding heart. “How could you care for someone like me when all I do is—?”
His smile breaks me in a wonderful way. “You needn’t try to convince me otherwise. You are different from the rest, and as I have said before… I like that about you.”
Tears line my lashes. Uncertainty grips my heart. A novel happiness impatiently knocks at the door to my soul, while my scars and judgment force me to fight it, to continue to question this surreal reality.
My voice fluctuates slightly as I scrutinize him. “You are… the strangest vampire I have ever met. I can’t believe that you have somehow grown to fancy a human when it is everything against Cain’s law. And the only human who hates you, at that.”
He drops his face to mine, lips mere inches away as he smirks, revealing his fangs.
“I am not so fond of Cain’s rules, anyway,” he whispers, “And you do not hate me, Wavorly. If anyone, the only person you are fooling is yourself.”
Weakness peruses my body, and my muscles loosen with sudden vulnerability—the truth within me now released and revitalized. A truth that I had starved and locked up ever since Zein left me at Nightingale years ago. A part of my soul that offered thoughts and emotions so silly and unworthy of my time that I had refused it. A frothy truth that would wrongfully allow me to find comfort in him, a cruel and ruthless vampire, who is... not actually so cruel and ruthless.
His smirk fades while his gaze traces my lips. “Are you afraid of such things?”
I can’t answer him. I can’t even think. The strongest certainty that I have built my entire existence upon—that vampires only serve to hurt and betray—apparently stood upon a foundation of the most fragile of glass.
“I missed you,” I say beneath my breath. “Why did I miss you?”
He leans forward, and before I can even begin to understand the intriguing depths of his actions, he presses his lips into mine. Gently, he takes control of this moment. The warmth is addicting, the insinuation—unhinging. I soften my muscles and my hands loosen their grip on his armored robes, granting permissions that didn’t even matter.
Desire spreads through me like a wildfire. I find myself pulling him closer to me and his hands move from my elbows to either side of my face, fingers curling through my hair and along my scalp. After a few seconds he breaks his hold, letting his lips linger against mine while we take in uneasy breaths. Zein pulls away only inches, wiping tears I didn’t even know I cried with the sides of his thumbs. Sadly almost, he smiles.
“You have endured a lot tonight. That, I understand. But I will require you to take heed and mention Seriesa to no one until I can guarantee there is no lingering threat. I will handle Giomar. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Y-yes,” I say, sheepishly, still recovering fr
om the kiss and all the emotions raging in my blood.
He nods and clears his throat—also appearing to be recovering from the moment.
“Go back to the seraglio, Wavorly. I will also see to it that nothing happens to you there from now on,” he says. “Prepare to be summoned again, however, for now that we both have acknowledged our desires, there is no sense in distance.”
“I understand,” I hesitantly reply, even though I don’t feel like I do.
chapter 14
I take a step back to fully take in the magnificent beasts; the same horse-like bat creatures from when I had first arrived. There are five chariots and five beasts per chariot. I edge closer to one of the creatures and raise my hand slightly in an attempt to touch it. Surprisingly, the animal makes only a few little nervous movements before allowing me to glide my palm over its back. I smile, taking in the very peaceful moment, until Gemini ruins it.
“Rawwwh!” He screeches from behind me while roughly grabbing my shoulders. I scream out with sudden and unimaginable terror.
“What are you doing?” I yell, clutching my chest.
“Oh, calm yourself child, if you’ve been in Lord Zein’s presence, or even near these Bastens, then a tiny roar shouldn’t scare you. Also, mind your manners.”
“Oh yes, forgive me, Master Bloodsucking-Scumbag, I shouldn’t be so rude.”
He cocks his head as he matches my humor. “Forgiven, Miss Dimwit.”
I laugh a little, glancing past Gemini as bright red and white flashes of linen catch my eye. The other supply units who are also making the trip to the capital begin filing into the supply chariot. Due to his run-in with Abethos months ago, Zein is required to journey to a summit at Isshar, the capital of Cain. He, along with the other four rulers—including Giomar—and their advisory senate will be discussing the imminence of war. He insisted I come for both his own desire, as well as to show Giomar that his grand plan to kill me failed to work. I’m all for the further destruction of vampire pride, so I agreed if only to see the look on that bastard’s face.
Luckily, Zein let me choose two of the supply units to accompany us, since he knew Anaya’s presence would undoubtedly cause strife. I had asked him why he continued to keep her around after everything she did.
“Her blood is the highest quality in the supply.” I couldn’t fight him there. My blood is only now becoming edible. I would imagine with her devotion and love, hers is the equivalent of maple syrup. Still, the fact he continues to crave her blood brings me an odd sense of displeasure.
Anaya makes one downcast side-glance to me before stepping inside the nearby chariot. It was just yesterday that both she and Danny were finally allowed outside of the dungeons, stripped of their luxuries and titles, but I’m sure it had been a long month. She now seems meek, reserved, and absent from her usual throne of tyranny. I, however, have been minding my own business while tolerating an influx of stares and isolation. Thank goodness my group didn’t treat me any differently after hearing about the Laisse.
After Anaya files in, it’s Emi, then Glera, then Savvy, and finally Katarii. I had chosen Savvy and Katarii to come along, and even though Zein has never taken Glera’s blood before, she was instructed to go as well. Maybe to show off how eclectic his collection is? I scowl at the degrading thought, but I am happy to have another ally in the caravan, nonetheless.
When Savvy notices me, I make my way over to her, smile and all. I have yet to tell her about that night—the one where Zein confessed to having some sort of feelings for me. I wasn’t even sure if I was going to, given the drama within the seraglio already, but I had made up my mind to tell her on this trip.
“Wavorly, stop.” Zein’s demanding voice shoots out from somewhere down the stone path to the castle, halting my approach toward my best friend. And I do stop, watching as she disappears behind the walls of the chariot, shooting me a quizzical look in the process. Gemini files in behind her and Katarii.
I flip around, noting Zein striding down the roundabout, proudly so, with Narref and his personal soldiers close behind. A silken white robe with ruby-red splashes along the seams cover Zein’s torso. Black leather straps and belts loop almost endlessly around his chest and waist, displaying several small chains with emblems on them. His black pants slide naturally into calf-high leather and steel-wrapped boots, which clank with each nearing footstep. A small layer of metal armor covers his shoulders, back, and part of his chest, which makes me wonder if we are going on a military expedition instead. The last thing I notice before crossing my wrists and lowering my head is his ruby-crusted shawl. A ceremonial type of garment, I assume, because literally every inch of it catches the light from the moon perfectly, glistening a bright, yet deep-red.
“Yes, my lord?” I answer him, dutifully and engaged since we are in public.
He walks past me and answers, “You are to accompany me in my chariot for the journey.”
“Yes, my lord.” A shudder flies up my spine.
Since that one night a few months ago, even thinking about my feelings for Zein has been a confusing chore. At first, I would idly hope he wouldn’t summon me so that I wouldn’t have to face him. And then, at some point or another I began praying to be summoned, especially when he started summoning me just to talk. It was at that moment that I realized our relationship was different. That he may very well be the only vampire I could ever remotely trust.
Three masked servants stand bowed at the entrance to the center chariot. They offer up their hands, and Zein drapes his ruby-shawl and overcoat before he takes the two steps inside the chariot. The minions quickly disperse to place the items in a neighboring cargo hold while I follow in after Zein.
My breath is held hostage by the beauty of the interior. The wooden walls are smooth, black, and embellished with recurring silver traces of Cain’s pyramid. The benches look more like comfortable sofas that wrap all the way around the perimeter and are covered elegantly with several large golden seat cushions, embroidered pillows, and satin blankets. I am only able to make out these luxuries because of the dim glow from the center banister—a rectangular glass tank of water—that holds a handful of floating orbs emanating a bright red glow.
“Are you going to stand there all night?” Zein asks from the far corner sofa-bench, laughing at me.
“I could.” I sneer.
He gives a small flare of his nostrils as he motions for me to come closer.
“Who else will be joining us?” I ask as I sit a good foot away from him.
“No one.”
“I see.” The pounding in my chest won’t be letting up any time soon, I gather. It’s been this way every summoning night since the incident with Seriesa, and I have no idea why.
“My lord.” The voice of Narref echoes through the chariot from the entry door, “All is set to go. Ready at your leisure.”
Zein nods in a lazy fashion. “Proceed.”
There are two whacks on the side of the chariot and we take off into the air, the jolt nearly landing me on to Zein’s lap. Good thing I had planned accordingly and sat a foot away. It makes no difference, however, as he closes the gap himself, wrapping one of his arms around me—rendering me immovable. I freeze.
“A gesture this simple still makes you nervous?” he asks.
Now the pounding of my heart is frantic, and I know for a fact I’m giving off a very troubled scent, but I don’t know how to respond. He tilts his head slightly, studying my face.
“Tell me,” he says, sporting a serious expression. “What is the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of me?”
I look away and he turns his torso inward, resting his other hand against the sofa right beside my head, pinning me.
“Well...,” I gulp, trying to think clearly through the change in atmosphere. A dark image flashes through my mind. Vampire. Fear. Blood. Pain.
“Pain?” he asks, a bit taken aback.
Oh God, did I say that out loud?
“I uh…,” I’ve nev
er been the lying-to-save-face type. “...Yes, but it’s just because of vampires in general. Not because of you.” I try to smooth my honesty over while trying not to focus on the memories that the thought of vampires force me to revisit.
He continues to stare at me—into me—almost regretfully.
“I suppose I should change that,” Zein says as he presses his body against mine in a tightening, relentless fashion.
A hand wraps around my waist and locks at the hip as his chiseled jaw lowers until he has me flattened against the backrest with his lips. Just like the last time, except it feels different somehow. It feels raw. Something alights within me and I kiss him back, latching my arm around his neck, pulling him closer. I’m mindful of his fangs as he lets me taste the inside of his mouth.
Like the turn of the tide, he becomes ragged, hurried, and engaged.
Zein lifts me by my waist, and I slide down the bench until I am lying flat. His kiss deepens while one hand has my hair at the nape and the other slides down my lower back. Breathing escapes me, drowning me in a mixture of surprise and desire—sheer ignorance. My body reacts against my judgment, reciprocating his affections. I run my fingers along his neck and through his hair—tugging and scraping the more he oppresses my sanity with his touch. Soon, it is warm, skin on skin; he slides the strap of my crimson robes off my shoulder to my elbow, all the while leaving hotspots down my neck—courtesy of his mouth.
I gasp as his kiss doubles back to my lips. One hand grips the back of my gown and pulls downward while the other pushes the hem up to my waist, exposing my thighs to the chilly air. His body further sinks into mine as he pulls his lips just far enough away to speak.
“I want you,” he whispers in French.
And that one, endearing affection—speaking to me in my native tongue—snaps me out of it. It reminds me of who I am. What he is. Where I came from.
“Stop,” I mumble as his hand finds my inner thigh and snakes upward. He doesn’t stop. He drops his lips to my jaw and his hand keeps moving. I push him with all of my strength.