I faced her. “Why don’t you lie—？” I looked around, shoulders tensing once more upon seeing the mattress. “Why don’t you lie down?”
“I’m fine standing, thanks.”
Impatience grew as I moved toward her. There was no way I could do this with her standing. “Would you rather I get on my knees?”
Poppy held my stare as her lips started to curve up—
“I don’t mind.” I drew my lower lip between my teeth. “Doing so would put me at the perfect height for something I know you’d enjoy. After all, I’m always craving honeydew.”
Her eyes went wide as anger heightened the color in her cheeks. It wasn’t the only thing, though. For a moment there, a different kind of heat hit her blood.
Poppy pushed off the wall and stomped her way to the mattress. She sat. “You’re repulsive.”
I laughed as I walked over to her and knelt, having gotten what I needed from her. For her to sit. And I also discovered that she was still attracted to me despite everything. “If you say so.”
“I know so.”
I grinned, placing the basket on the floor. She checked it out, probably looking for something that could be turned into a weapon. She would be disappointed there. I motioned for her to lie back.
“Bastard,” she muttered but did as I requested.
“Language.” I reached for her shirt again, but she grabbed it herself. That reminded me of something very important. Control. She needed control because she never had any. “Thank you.”
Her lips thinned.
I smiled slightly, pulling a bottle from the basket. A bitter, sharp scent crowded the cell the moment I unscrewed the lid.
“I want to tell you a story,” I said, eyeing the wound.
“I am not in the mood for story time—” Poppy gasped and grabbed my wrist with both hands as I took hold of the clothing. “What are you doing?”
“The blade damn near ripped out your rib cage.” Anger sparked. “It extends up the side of your ribs.” I waited for her to deny that. She didn’t. “I’m guessing this happened when the sword was wrestled from you?”
Poppy stayed silent, but her grip remained on my wrist. Did she think…？
I sighed. “Believe it or not, I’m not trying to undress you so I can take advantage of you. I’m not here to seduce you, Princess.”
Her lips parted as she stared up at me. Her shoulders lifted from the mattress, and her fingers were too damn cold against the skin of my wrist. A tremor ran through her once more, and I had no idea what was going through her head at the moment. It could be anything, but the longer she stared at me, the more I knew it wasn’t good. Her thoughts were painful. I saw that in how her eyes started to glisten.
And I heard it in the hoarseness of her voice when she asked, “Was any of it true?”
Was any of it…？
I knew then what I should’ve made myself see while we were in the stables. That she had forgotten that our time together earlier was real.
Poppy let go of my wrist, closing her eyes. Mine followed. Anger rose. She’d forgotten. The anger I felt was wrong. I knew that, but I was also furious with myself for expecting her to remember. There was no point in telling her otherwise. She wouldn’t believe me.
Opening my eyes, I got to work. Lifting her shirt again, I looked closer at the wound’s jagged edges. I needed to close the gash, and there was a much easier, quicker alternative to what was to come. I could give her my blood, but I would have to force her to take it. This would hurt her, but completely stripping her of control? I had a feeling that would do lasting damage.
“This may burn,” I warned as I leaned over her, tipping the bottle. The astringent hit the wound, causing her to jerk. The liquid immediately bubbled in the cut as I gritted my teeth. I knew it had to sting, but Poppy didn’t make a sound.
“Sorry about that.” I set the bottle aside. “It will need to sit for a bit to burn out any infection that may have already been making its way in there.”
She said nothing, just let her head fall back against the mattress. The hair that was always in her face slipped down her cheek.
I stopped myself from moving it out of the way and instead focused on what I had to tell her. “The Craven were our fault,” I said. “Their creation, that is. All of this. The monsters in the mist. The war. What has become of this land. You. Us. It all started with an incredibly desperate, foolish act of love, many, many centuries before the War of Two Kings.”
“I know.” Poppy cleared her throat. “I know the history.”
“But do you know the true history?”
“I know the only history.” Her eyes opened, fixing on the bones above her.
“You know only what the Ascended have led everyone to believe, and it is not the truth.” I picked up the chain that lay across her lower stomach, moving it off her. “My people lived alongside mortals in harmony for thousands of years, but then King Malec O’Meer—”
“Created the Craven,” she interrupted. “Like I said—”
“You’re wrong.” I sat, drawing a leg up to rest my arm on. There wasn’t a lot of time to tell her this, but I had to if I had any hope of her understanding. “King Malec fell hopelessly in love with a mortal woman. Her name was Isbeth. Some say it was Queen Eloana who poisoned her. Others claim it was a jilted lover of the King’s who stabbed her because he apparently had quite the history of being unfaithful,” I told her, imagining my mother conspiring to poison someone. It wasn’t exactly that hard to imagine. “But either way, she was mortally wounded. As I said, Malec was desperate to save her. He committed the forbidden act of Ascending her—what you know as the Ascension.”
Poppy’s gaze shot to mine.
“Yes,” I confirmed what I knew she was putting together. “Isbeth was the first to Ascend. Not your false King and Queen. She became the first vampry. Malec drank from her, only stopping once he felt her heart begin to fail, and then he shared his blood with her.” I stretched my neck. “Perhaps if your act of Ascension wasn’t so well-guarded, the finer details would not come as a surprise to you.”
Poppy started to rise but stopped. “Ascension is a Blessing from the gods.”
I smirked. “It is far from that. More like an act that can either create near immortality or make nightmares come true. We Atlantians are born nearly mortal. And remain so until the Culling.”
“The Culling?” she repeated.
“It’s when we change.” I curled my upper lip, showing the tip of a fang. “The fangs appear, lengthening only when we feed, and we change in…other ways.”
“How?” Curiosity filled her.
“That’s not important.” I reached for a cloth. There wasn’t enough time to explain all of that. “We may be harder to kill than the Ascended, but we can be killed. We age slower than mortals, and if we take care, we can live for thousands of years.”
Poppy stared at me. She didn’t counter that, so I figured I’d made progress. Or it was just her curiosity. Probably the latter.
“How…how old are you?” she asked.