“Why did you keep all of this?”
“It’s valuable. I wouldn’t leave it behind.”
It was more than that. Perhaps the long, hard stare I gave him told him I knew it, too.
“They’re mine,” he said, after a moment. “If I sold them or left them in Obitraes, they would have been used in someone else’s war. Maybe they would have been used against the same men I led. I wouldn’t let that happen.”
Strange, how vampires and humans were so different and yet so much alike.
“Did you save them because you thought you might need them again?”
A long, long silence. Vale’s eyes went distant, his body still—I had never seen a creature who could be so, so still, as if he didn’t even breathe.
“No,” he said, at last, and closed the door.
Then he turned to me and said, “Do you need my blood, if you’re going to insist on wandering around?”
Vale’s skin was warm. I felt like I noticed a new thing about it every time I touched him. Even his veins were more elegant than those of a human, the pattern to them more delicate and intentional, the darkness visible in streaks of color like embroidery under the thinnest skin of his inner wrist.
We sat in silence as I took the first vial of blood.
He looked past me, and I followed his gaze to the vase on the coffee table—containing three flowers. I’d given him the last one when I was still half-unconscious, apparently, though I didn’t remember doing this. It had gotten a little crumpled in all the excitement of the last few days, but was still just as beautiful as its siblings, petals perfect black and vivid red.
“I still see nothing remarkable about them,” he grumbled.
“They’re very remarkable. I promise.”
“I’m starting to think you might be lying to me.”
“And if I am?”
My voice was surprisingly flippant. I was no longer as concerned as I once had been that Vale would, at best, kick me out of his house, and at worst, eat me. Maybe I even suspected some part of him enjoyed having me here.
I watched his blood fill the glass vial. But I could feel his eyes on me, steady and sharp.
“There would be consequences.”
Something in his voice made me pause. It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t a joke, either, though it held the sweet lilt of one. I could feel his stare on me, and I knew before I looked up the expression that would be on his face.
I didn’t move my hands, but the sensation of his skin against mine was suddenly overwhelming.
I met his gaze. The expression was just as I’d imagined it—the faint smirk, the cool stare. And yet… something a little less removed flickered in his eyes as they lowered slightly. Lowered, I realized, to my mouth.
“Consequences,” I scoffed.
“What? I’m a dangerous man. You aren’t afraid of what punishment might be?”
Goosebumps rose to the surface of my skin, coaxed by the mocking melody of his voice over the word, drawn out slow.
Even I knew that what he was teasing me with, what he was promising me, was something very different than what he’d done to my attackers in the forest.
Maybe just as dangerous, though.
When my eyes met his, I found it impossible to pull them away. My fingertips tingled, acutely aware of every cord of muscle beneath my hands. My heart beat a little faster. I knew he smelled it.
He had invited me to his bed once before. I’d been tempted then. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted now. Curiosity was my greatest vice.
I’d spent a lot of time over these last weeks thinking about Vale. I was obsessed with him in some ways. I spent all day every day looking at his blood. Admiring its beauty. Admiring that it moved with the same ageless grace as the rest of him.
He was, I’d admit to myself, a very handsome man.
He leaned forward, just slightly.
“Tell me, mouse—”
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
I jumped. The needle jolted from Vale’s arm, resulting in a spray of blood over my chest. I knocked down one of the vials with my elbow, and before I even had time to be horrified by it, his hand had snaked out to catch it—a movement so smooth and quick I didn’t even see it happen until he was handing me the vial.
“Cork that. Apparently my blood is valuable stuff.”
BANG BANG BANG.
The knocks grew more persistent. Vale looked over his shoulder, into the main hallway and the front door beyond.
I put away the vials, a little flustered.
My first thought was that someone found out what Vale had done to defend me and was coming for revenge. But though the knocks were loud, they weren’t frantic or angry. And Vale didn’t look concerned, only irritated.
He didn’t move.
“Do you… want to get that?” I asked.
“No, I don’t.”
I’d forgotten. He didn’t like answering his doors.
But the BANGs continued, a rhythmic beat growing steadily faster, until Vale finally let out an aggravated sigh, rose, and went to the door.
I followed him. I couldn’t help it. He was right; I was nosy.
Vale opened the door with a single abrupt movement.
I stumbled backwards.
The person at his doorstep had no face.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The faceless person stood there silently.
Or maybe it wasn’t a person at all—just the suggestion of one. He—she? It?—was only a silvery outline in silhouette, the edges of its form streaks of painted moonlight, and the core of its body nearly clear. I could see the forest straight through the center of its chest—straight through the center of its face. It was nearly as tall as Vale, though willowy, its limbs thin and slightly formless, only a suggestion of bones and muscle.
Vale looked totally unmoved.
“I told you not to come back here,” he snapped.
If the form was capable of either hearing or understanding him, it showed no sign. Instead, it simply held out a hand. A single letter sat in its palm.
“I don’t want that,” said Vale.
The form did not move.
Vale groaned and snatched the letter away.
“Fine. There. Now go.”
The figure started to fade, and I watched wide-eyed, eager to see how it would leave. But Vale just slammed the door shut, and the look on his face made me startle.
He looked… irritated. More than irritated. Irritated was how he had felt with me when I first showed up at his door. This was an even harder expression, his jaw tight, his fist clenched around the letter, now crumpled in his fingers.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Was that Nyaxia’s magic?”
“Was that—what?” He looked at me, blinking, like he’d been so lost in his thoughts he’d forgotten I was there for a moment. “Oh. Yes.”
“So that’s from your home.”
He scoffed. “My home.”
“From Obitraes,” I clarified.
“Oh, I understood you.”
I paused. “Well, you’re upset,” I said, mostly to myself.
“I’m—” He stopped short, whirled to me, snapped his jaw shut. “Yes. Yes, I’m upset.”
What was I supposed to do? Not ask?
“Why?”
“Why?”
He turned his back and paced, and I got the distinct impression that he wasn’t really talking to me anymore.