“Are you not willing?”
“She is!” Gilford interjected.
“I did not ask you,” Orpheus said, letting his voice come out as a deep growl.
“I am standing here, aren’t I?” she said up to him, rubbing her neck before frowning at her hand as though she couldn’t fathom why him holding her hadn’t hurt.
That is true.
It was obvious she was willingly standing in front of him to be offered while dressed in their strange custom of dressing all his sacrifices in white. He’d never understood that, why they had to be dressed in a similar style and colour.
“If you do not like her, there is Darren.”
The black-haired man bowed to Orpheus in greeting.
He waved his hand at him dismissively, his claws glinting in the sunlight. He retracted them to keep them hidden from the easily frightened humans.
“I received a male last time. I do not want another.”
They never lasted long with him. Even though they generally held less fear, they often tried to kill him. He would always make short work of sating one of his many hungers on them. He felt the light rumble of his stomach begging for meat.
Darren lowered his head and stepped away, refusing to argue with his easy decision.
“Then Clove, perhaps?”
“Hello,” the red-haired woman said with one of the sweetest voices he’d ever heard from a human. It was gentle, almost like a song. “It is a generous honour to meet you.”
She curtseyed for him and even stepped forward. She looked willing; her eyes wide with a strange emotion as they moved over him now that she was closer. Curiosity? Uncertainty? What is the emotion on her face?
He hated to admit, even to himself, that he wasn’t particularly good with understanding human emotions.
He stared at her before releasing the blonde to step closer to the red-head. Fear, as well as tangles of other emotions, cascaded from her the closer he got.
It was strong enough that it made his eyes glow red and his mouth fill with drool. He quickly swallowed so it didn’t seep between the sharp teeth and fangs of his skull. He stopped breathing to hide from it.
The warmth in her skin paled and one of her feet stepped back when he towered over her. The other emotions she had been producing turned into fright now that he was actually in front of her. Her eyes darted from his glowing eyes to his claws as he reached forward to cup her throat to see how she would react. He retracted his hand before he even touched her, wary of how strong the scent from her was becoming.
This was how all his sacrifices were with him. Afraid. They were willing, but they feared him, feared where he would take them, feared what he would do to them. Delicious, delicious fear.
She is just as appetizing. Perhaps more so. He liked the brightness of the red in her hair.
However, Orpheus turned away from her and began to circle the one named Reia predatorily.
The fear in her scent he’d smelt earlier had gentled without his direct attention, and he was curious about it. She is wary. That was what he could smell. She wasn’t petrified since she wasn’t trembling or shivering in his presence.
I have only met a few like her. Even now, he could tell just from their faces that the humans gaping at him in the sun – who weren’t at risk of being stolen away – were more afraid than this woman in white.
“Little human, why are you offering yourself to me?”
Orpheus had never asked this of a human while still standing in the town they came from.
He would eventually learn from them all why they were willing to be taken. However, he was truly curious about why this one was standing before him. It appeared she was willing. She had said so herself in a very vague way. But she was also… angry.
Is she angry with me or the other humans?
“To help protect my people,” she answered through gritted teeth.
He tilted his head when he was in front of her once more, looking at her clenched jaw and creased brows.
A lie, perhaps? If Orpheus could grin, he may have.
“Yes. You will do.” He brought his gloved hand out from his cloak and offered it to her. “You will become my newest human, snowy one.”
“You will be taking her?” Gilford asked with a high-pitch of surprise, while the woman blinked at his hand in confusion.
“Yes, I have chosen the original sacrifice.” He thrust his hand at the woman, demanding she place her palm in his.
After a few moments of staring at his outreach gloved palm, she hesitantly lifted her hand and slipped it into his far larger one.
Once more, he stopped breathing to avoid taking in any scents. His claws rushed out, and the middle one dug into the flesh of her wrist to produce a small droplet of blood.