My breath caught and my chest felt like it was collapsing.
‘What do you mean?’
He didn’t meet my eyes. ‘From noon tomorrow I can’t touch you.’
A lead weight fell upon my shoulders and my heart gave up, exploding, bursting like a balloon; my vision shattered and I grabbed the steel counter, supporting myself as my knees gave way.
‘My father knows how I lust for you. So as punishment he won’t let me touch you in any physical way. We’re the only sane people left here, and he just ensured we lost each other. I’m so sorry, Violet, I really am, because now he will make your life hell and it’s not your fault. I’m so sorry …’
‘N-noon tomorrow?’ I managed to choke. Already images of what the King could do were rushing through my head, sending chills up my spine.
‘I won’t ever let him hurt you, don’t ever think that,’ Kaspar growled and I felt a rush of air behind me as my stomach dug into the edge of the steel, breathing deeply and trying to make sense of what he had just told me.
He was inside my head …
‘Noon?’ I glanced at the clock on the wall as it inched around, far later than I thought, the hands striving to touch one another at twelve. Arms ensnared my waist and the cool of his chest against my back sent chills of a very different kind racing along my spine and around my ribs.
‘I will never let anyone hurt you.’
I drew a sharp breath, hardly daring to believe my own thoughts but knowing that what was sending silky tendrils dancing along my skin was right, and as I spoke I fought to keep my breathing from becoming ragged.
‘But you’re the one that hurts me.’
He withdrew a little, loosening his grip and I felt his pain. Seizing the opportunity I whipped around, knowing this was my last chance before everything changed.
Never thought I’d see this moment, my voice said, full of the same breathlessness I felt as I looked up at him.
Neither did I, I replied.
‘Girly?’
‘I give up.’
‘What?’
I took a deep breath. ‘I give in to you.’
FORTY-FOUR
Violet
He said nothing. For one agonizing minute we remained frozen, paralysed, the only movement the rising and falling of his chest. For one agonizing minute, I could only hear the ticking of the clock, nearing midnight. Tick, tock. For one agonizing minute, I thought he would say no. But I could see the restrained desire in the way he tried to control his breathing, and the way his eyes warred between emerald and red.
‘Kaspar, I want you. Right here. Right now. And I won’t ask nicely more than once.’
He didn’t reply, but his lips crushed to mine, ferocious, anxious, with urgency incomparable. I was thrust back into the counter, the small of my back pressed painfully against the edge, hands instinctively breaking my stumble with an ominous click. He moved with unrelenting force, pushing me further into the marble; yet I returned every movement he made, drawing his lips to mine until I let out a soft hiss against his flesh.
‘You’re crushing me,’ I winced, trying to free my arm as his body pressed to mine.
Breaking away he muttered an awkward apology, allowing me space to breathe as I slowly massaged my wrist. I let out a giggle, the pause allowing the desire to fade and uncertainty to creep in. But that quickly wilted as he reached up and brushed a single strand of hair from my eyes, tucking it behind my ear. His unusually feather-light touch sent tingles dancing to the very tips of my fingers, ridding any previous doubts.
This is what I want. And this is my last chance to get it. After noon … that’s it.
‘Sorry, I forgot you’re not … built for … this …’
I chuckled nervously. ‘No one is built to be smashed against a solid object.’
He cocked a half-smile. ‘Then I’ll make sure,’ he rested his hands on my outer thighs, ‘That you’re out of the way of the solid object.’ Lifting me up and gently placing me onto the countertop, his lips claimed mine once more. Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered that the metallic taste of blood still lingered on them.
His tongue traced my bottom lip, begging for entrance which I gave gladly. My tongue traced the tips of his fangs, sharp, pointed, slightly curved like the thorns of a rose and he growled longingly; his carnal desires barely restrained by the little control he could exercise. I felt the pressure as he began to bite down and yanked away. But he just smirked, following me back until I lay flat to the counter; he jumped onto the counter, straddling me. I could see the rippled strength of his muscles even through his shirt, and I fought hard not to lift the material and run my hands across his skin.
He seemed to pause halfway to my lips and my heart leapt. The longing, the lust, the need had been suppressed for too long; but that was overshadowed by my heart, giddy and drunk, like a girl soaking up the eyes of her first crush. There was a huge satisfaction as well: I was kissing Kaspar, yet there was none of that fake floating; those soaring high feelings I experienced every time Fabian had kissed me … no, this … this is more than that. That feeling was designed to lure prey and to take control of rational thought. But this was rational. I want this.
I took in his eyes, emerald, flecked with red, fighting his desire on so many levels. He took in mine, violet; violet as always.
He leaned down and I thought he would kiss me once more, but instead his lips brushed my ear and he whispered: ‘Do you trust me?’
I smirked. ‘Not in the slightest.’
‘Then that …’ I felt his weight shift, and he pressed into me further. His full weight now rested on me, and though not small or brittle, it hurt. But I smirked nonetheless. I could detect a definite bulge in the crotch of his trousers, and his breathing was only becoming shallower. ‘… could be a problem,’ he finished, purring, actually purring, like a cat indulged by a new owner.
So quickly that I could not see, only feel, my arms were pinned above my head, both wrists grasped in one of Kaspar’s hands. He smirked like a child that had been given a new toy (in fact, I was rather worried that was exactly what he was thinking) and began to trail the other hand down my side, tracing the indent just below my rib cage. The corners of my mouth twitched and I squirmed away.
‘You see, because you have so adamantly resisted me for so long, I would like to have my own way. And twelve hours is not a very long time to have my own way … certainly not long enough to show you what you have been missing out on.’
His fingers brushed my side and I bit on my lip. ‘Cocky much?’
He arched an eyebrow. Gently pressing me further into the counter, the hem of my top slid up, the cool marble chilling my skin. His hands skimmed across the exposed skin, the smile fading from his mouth. He ran his hands in slow circles, higher, caressing my skin in taunting strokes. My breathing was becoming ragged. I was not even sure if I was breathing – he wasn’t.
His cold hands urged the grey material higher, until they slipped under, so close to my bra now I felt my cheeks redden. Abruptly and without warning, he hooked a finger under the wire; my breathing hitched expectantly.
A devilish smile that I mistrusted far more than his fangs appeared and I immediately felt uneasy, temporarily forgetting all functions relating to my lungs. His hands creeped back down and suddenly, he was tickling me.
I shrieked with laughter, throwing myself around and gaining a few bruises, trying to avoid the onslaught of his hands as he tickled every inch of skin he could get to whilst wrestling me so I would hold still. I thrashed and writhed, squirming under his touch until with a bang I landed in a heap on the floor, gasping. I gulped great mouthfuls of air, and sprang up, tripping my way across the room with exaggerated awareness until I stopped at the doorway, turning back.
He was propped against the counter, casually surveying me as he had done the very first time we locked gazes in Trafalgar Square. I should have felt fear then, yet I felt lust. My heart had beat for two, just as it did now. I wanted to move, but my muscles refused, itching and stiff but frozen. I was trapped under his spell, prey in his eyes, gripping the doorframe for dear life as my legs turned to jelly.
Nothing had changed. I might have thought I knew him better, known every etched scar below his left ear, known his every emotion just from the colour of his eyes, but I didn’t. I knew no more than I had done that first night. I knew the truth now; I knew what he was, but I did not know him. Hundreds of stolen glances I didn’t even realize I had taken had taught me about his species, not him. But now I longed to. I longed to know him … and that was why I stayed. This predator had caught me from the very beginning.
I’m his now. I’m giving myself to him.
A burst of laughter spilled from my lips as I registered what I was thinking. What on Earth would my (feminist) citizenship teacher think about that?
He shook his head, a bemused smile forming at my ill-timed outburst. ‘What?’
‘I just … when I said I give in to you, I meant I’m giving into my desires.’
He nodded, thoughtfully, as though picking that sentence to pieces.
Giving into your desires is a sin, you know. Still think you have made the right choice? my voice hissed in my mind, in the sinister tone it reserved for when it knew it could plant doubt in my mind.
Suddenly, the lights flickered and my treacherous voice was veiled in shadows. The break of eye contact with Kaspar and the realization that all I could see in the darkness were two bright, blazing red orbs, returned feeling to my legs and I turned and fled down the corridor, the torches that lit this part of the mansion snuffing out, dead, as I heard his frenzied pursuit of me. I burst into the living room, padding across the carpet and dodging the pearly white sofas. Slipping into the entrance hall I stumbled back, marvelling at how quiet the place was, even quieter than usual, and that was saying something considering clocks could be heard chiming from the other side of the mansion in the silence. There were no Varns and none of the servants seemed to be around. The single butler who had startled as I entered bowed low, before disappearing into a side passage.
They weren’t ignorant to the goings on of the royal family.
I whirled around, still backing away, feet squeaking on the marble floor. Vases, expensive-looking and delicate, held glass flowers, folded from the torch light; a small porcelain cupid perched on one leg beside a snowy vase, a silver plate engraved in Latin beside that. All these objects were familiar to me, yet I was so much more aware of everything … everything new and afresh, sending a giddy excitement through my stomach. What settled that stomach, however, was what should not be there: a magazine was slung across one of the marble-topped tables, the pages open to reveal the glossy orange petals of a Georgia O’Keeffe painting. Carelessly misplaced, it would usually be whisked away by a passing maid. Not tonight.
I didn’t allow my eyes to linger on the magazine and instead caught sight of my reflection in the silverware. My cheeks were flushed, rosy and pink, and I could see my chest rapidly rising and falling, matching my shallow breaths. My eyes were even brighter than usual, glittering and moist and alive, but the thick eyeliner that rimmed them was beginning to slip, sinking my sockets and giving me the dark circled look of … I quickly rubbed it away. The long, loose top I was wearing too had slipped off my shoulders, exposing the top of my flimsy bra. I raised my arm to cover it, but was cut short by his sharp voice: an order, brutal in tone, but a voice I knew just well enough to discern that it was not a command but an invitation; a rough wooing.
‘No. Leave it.’
I jerked my head up to see him leaning against the closed door (which I never heard close), silently surveying through those same eyes that made me blush. His arms were crossed against his chest, and even from here I could see his nostrils flaring … as they always did when he was angry. Or aroused.
‘How do you do it?’ he asked bluntly.
I turned away, walking slowly past the staircase and absent-mindedly admiring the marble of the walls. The click of my ankle boots echoed in the silence, the only sound, save for my breathing.
‘Do what?’
He did not answer for a while, but I could feel his stare on my back.
‘Enchant us. Every male vampire … we all lust over you. Me, Fabian—’
‘Ilta,’ I added quietly, looking over my shoulder to gage his reaction. He nodded his head gravely.
‘You’re a human, a dhampir. This desire shouldn’t be so powerful. Fabian shouldn’t have fallen for you and Ilta …’ He trailed off, not finishing his sentence for which I was grateful. But then, quietly, so quietly I guessed I was not supposed to hear, he added, ‘It shouldn’t drive me to this.’
My blush deepened. I carried on, pretending not to hear. Trailing my fingertips across the table that held the vase, I searched for the dust that was not there.
‘P-perhaps it’s because I’m not like any other vampire girl you’ve met. Your wealth and status means nothing to me.’ My finger brushed the marble walls, veined in black. ‘I don’t look on you and Fabian as a Prince and a Lord. I treat you no differently and I don’t try like those whores you have.’ Thoughts of Charity entered my mind, and obviously his as I snuck a look at him just to see him turn his head away.
‘Unlike the girls of this Kingdom, I want nothing from you but respect.’ I spun around to face him. ‘And I know I’m not like any other human you’ve met. I don’t fall for your seductions, at least not unless I choose to and I can, and have, said no to you.’ I forced my gaze to remain steady in my bold lie. I hadn’t resisted. Not when Ilta had charmed me, not when Fabian had kissed me, and not earlier in the car with Kaspar. ‘And any man, human or vampire or otherwise, will always want what he can’t get.’