Chapter 20
SERA
The house is quiet, too quiet, as we stand in the hallway and wait for Charles to be collected. Lizzie is next to me, pale and subdued. Rafe still hasn’t been back to the house, and I have heard nothing from Nate. We are both being kept in limbo.
“We should find a way to get a message to Agnes,” Lizzie mutters as we stare at the door. “There was no answer when I called this afternoon.”
It is another layer of worry to add to the uneasiness in our bones. And now Charles is to go, too, where we will have no way of knowing what is happening to him.
“You will see Miss Ellington at the ball.” Mrs Hawley’s voice floats down the hall behind us as she appears with Charles’s trunk. Always listening. Always watching. “There will be no time for social calls. We have much to arrange with your outfits.”
Lizzie rolls her eyes, although I know secretly she will relish the idea of getting dressed up — even if it is to go to a vampire ball. “I was rather hoping to see Rafe before then,” she grumbles. “It seems strange that we will just dance and not have time to discuss all that has happened.”
“There is plenty of talking done at balls.” Charles steps closer to the door as Mrs Hawley sets his trunk down. “And besides, you would do well not to care too much, Lizzie. Once the glamour is wiped away and you see how moon-eyed, you have truly been…”
“Moon-eyed?” Lizzie swats at Charles’s arm. “I am not moon-eyed!”
I smirk. “You are a little, Lizzie.”
“Well then, let us not get us started on you, Sera.” She scowls at me and I feel Charles’s eyes on me, too.
When I look up at him, I know telling him about the bond was the right thing to do. It has given him an explanation for my behaviour and closeness with Nate — whether or not it is the full picture. And more than that, he now has a purpose for his stay at House Azarov. It might just help him survive whatever is to come next.
Lizzie threads her arm through mine, muttering an apology, and as she speaks there is a familiar clatter outside — the sound of hooves and wheels juddering to a stop on the cobbles. Almost immediately, the door is thrown open and Charles’s trunk is hauled into the waiting carriage by two gutterfangs.
“I do not think much to their manners,” Lizzie whispers.
I eye up the shadow inside the carriage. If it is Lord Nikolai, he makes no effort to get out and greet his pledge. And for that, I am grateful. I do not need to look into the fathomless eyes of another vampire who would drain me given the opportunity.
I reach for Charles’s hand. “Please take care of yourself.”
“I’ll do my best.” He smiles at me, then bows awkwardly in front of Lizzie and makes for the door.
He looks like a lord, I think, as I watch him go. He has changed and I am fond of this version of him. But all of it will be swept away when he is glamoured by the next monster. And only time will tell whether his loyalty and my secrets will go with it.
With Charles gone, I pace around my room, desperate for Nate’s dark shadow to fly through the door and into my bed. But yet again, he does not come.
He has not spoken to me and I wonder if, once again, he is with Caroline. If they are exchanging stories and histories that I would not understand. If he is flattering her and charming her in ways he has never done with me.
Perhaps he has used the charisma I saw with the innkeeper’s wife. It worked on her. And even vampires as stoic as Caroline are surely not immune to Nate’s considerable good looks. If he turned his attention on her, how could she possibly look away?
I know my feelings are irrational. Nate has his directives from Valeria and he must do it to protect me — to protect us both. There is a chance she can help him unravel Juliette’s journals and letters, too. But the pain is no less real for that understanding.
Maybe he is glad of the excuse to be with Caroline. She is beautiful, articulate, calm. Her aura is nothing like that of other vampires I have met. Perhaps he is the one who is caught in a deception, not his family. Maybe everything he’s told me is a lie.
I pull my nightgown on and sink into bed. I know I will not sleep when the tether between us is so stretched; when Nate hasn’t drunk from me in days.
I try to get inside his head again and when I do, I realise he is not with Caroline. He is somewhere dark. Quiet. And yet he is still not here. This time he will damned well hear me.
Why will you not come to me? I sit up on the bed, shouting into his mind.
Patience, witchling.
Oh, he speaks! I throw myself back towards the pillows — frustrated and relieved in equal measure that I can hear his voice at last. Why would you not speak to me? To say nothing, to not come to me?—
I have been doing it to protect you, Sera.
How is sending me spiralling into madness protecting me? We looked through Juliette’s chamber together and then you just leave?—
You forget I can feel whatever it is you are experiencing. You are irritated with me, yes. But mostly you are jealous?—
I am not jealous!
You are. You have spied on me during my visits to Miss Vossler. You have heard our conversations, yet somehow it has not relieved your concerns.
My lips push into a pout and I am grateful Nate is not here to see such a sour expression. You enjoyed her company.
Yes. She is an interesting vampire. My visits have been enlightening. But she knows the arrangement between us does not stand.
Some of the mindless, senseless panic eases. Logically, rationally, I know that Nate has done nothing other than try to understand what Juliette died for, whilst fulfilling his obligations to Valeria. But the bond has me craving him in a way I cannot control.
I settle back in the pillows, my breathing evening out. Did you learn anything you can tell Valeria to appease her? If you had something she could use, you would surely be free of the agreement.
I have nothing I can give Valeria without undermining my own investigations.
Then why won’t you come here? Let us look into things together. This is torture…
Have you made no progress with the bond? Nate’s voice is gravelly, low enough for me to feel it in my belly. I thought this wildness would make you want to break it.
I do, but… I groan out loud, slamming my fists into the coverlet. You don’t understand how it feels to be apart from you. I am going mad, Nate. I feel like a caged animal, climbing the walls. I could use my magic to bring you to me. I have done it before.
No. You must not.
I groan again and roll my eyes. I am becoming quite good at controlling it, you know. No one need suspect?—
Sera. His voice is a rumble of a warning. You think I don’t know how you feel?
As he speaks, I close my eyes. There are flashes of colour like sunspots behind my eyelids that turn to a steady explosion of gold fractals.
I keep my eyes closed as their flicker of fire runs through me.
It is gentle at first — the type of warmth that would see me drift into a dreamless slumber. But then, it is heat. It is so sudden that my heart races. The aching need that throbs in my veins is amplified; the hunger so visceral that it steals my breath.
I have yearned for Nate before. I have been desperate for him. But this is something else.
I am flooded with his emotions like storm waves thrashing against white cliffs. His wants. His needs. The relentless, pounding onslaught of them rushes into my blood and combines with my own.
He is not trying to hold them back or hide them from me. It is as if Nate wants me to drown in them; to see me dragged under into the blackened deep.
You think I don’t understand how it feels to crave, Sera? I cannot enjoy anyone, anything, because this is what it’s like. This is how I feel every second of the day since I first tasted you. You are driving me to madness.
Another wave. I am lost in the sensation, letting it pull me downwards, spiralling me further into a blaze of flames.
But there is something else, too.
Beneath it all, I feel Nate’s craving for blood and I realise that until now, he has kept the strength of the sensation away from me. Here, there is no escaping it. He is desperate for the pull and release; for my blood to coat his tongue and his throat and light up his veins like liquid gold.
And I want to give it to him.
I am struggling for air when the full force of his hunger crashes into me.
Instead of pulling me under, I am sent skyward — floating above my own body, looking down. I see myself through Nate’s eyes; my throat bared, the pulse thundering its restless rhythm beneath my skin. I feel the ache in his fangs, the desperate need to pierce my flesh and drink deep enough to lose himself in the ecstasy of my blood. It’s a craving so intense it borders on pain, and I find myself arching off the bed, my fingers clutching at the sheets.
Sera… Sera…
He mumbles my name like a prayer, over and over. He’s at war with himself, fighting against the need, and I can feel his frustration, his anger, his grief, all tangled up with lust and want and fear as tightly as limbs in bedsheets.
It’s too much.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block him out, to build some mental barrier against the onslaught of sensation that comes and comes, but it’s like trying to hold back the tide with my bare hands. It trickles through, then knocks me aside. Nate’s emotions pour into every corner of my being, filling me up until I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
Nate…
I call back to him and there’s a shift. It feels like sand crumbling beneath my feet. Then I am sinking into it, thigh-deep, trying to claw my way out.
I feel his hand in mine, as real as if he were in the room, pulling me to him, dragging me to safety.
And the onslaught starts again.
I need you, Nate…
I know I have to say the words, need him to hear them, but the meaning slips and slides away while my body burns. Do I want him inside me whilst he bites at my veins? Or do I want to be the one to feed? To have my throat slicked with blood whilst Nate’s fingers press between my thighs.
There is a price to pay for snooping in a vampire’s thoughts. His voice is lower than ever. It sends vibrations through my bones. And you will pay it, witchling.
Nate, I?—
Enough. You will spread your legs and do as your master tells you.
As he speaks, my knees fall open.
Good. Now, pull your nightgown up. Higher. Above your hips.
I do it blindly.
You know what it feels like to have my hands on you. You will know what to do.
Tentatively, I slide my fingers down the outer edge of my thigh, feeling the flesh pebble beneath them.
Did I give you permission to move?
I stop, my hands flying away.
You will do exactly as I tell you.
Yes, my lord.
When Nate first fed from me in Nighthaven, he told me to call him by his name. But tonight, he is my lord, my master. He is in control.
You will touch your thighs. Start at the outside. Work your fingers in circles.
I do it, my entire body prickling with pleasure at such a small, simple touch.
Find that velvet skin — the seam of your inner thigh. Stroke it.
The heat settles low in my belly, pooling in the sweet centre between my legs.
As Nate talks, I imagine his touch, rough and demanding, his fingers parting my folds and sliding inside, seeking the sweet spot that makes my back arch and has me moan in pleasure. I see him taking my nipples in his mouth, sucking and biting, leaving them red and swollen, aching for more, desperate for the sensation to be real.
I know that the line between fantasy and reality is blurred, but in this moment, I choose to believe it is happening. I let my mind wander and my hands become his.
Now, touch that needy bud between your legs.
A moan spills from my lips as I find the spot and rub over it.
Touch your nipples with the other hand. Circle them.
I do as he says, my hand flying to my breast to squeeze the flesh and trace the bumps of my nipples.
Good girl. You are doing so well.
I almost buckle at the depths of his voice.
Slower, Sera. Firm strokes.
I need you to do this, Nate. I need your hands on me.
I can feel every ounce of your pleasure, witchling. You are doing it perfectly.
I feel myself getting closer to the edge. The same energy is matched by Nate.
He is touching himself, too.
Faster now, Sera. Do not stop.
I strum my fingers quickly, imagining Nate’s huge hand fisting his cock, working himself into a frenzy just as I am.
I am so desperate to taste your sweet flesh. To be inside you. To worship your magnificent body; the altar between your thighs.
I groan, my head slamming back.
Surrender for me, witchling. Let go.
A wave of pleasure so desperate I cannot control it sweeps over me. I am taken under, crashing over, my body convulsing with the strength of the quivering in my core.
I feel Nate do the same.
Sera, Sera… My name falls from his lips in a moan. Somehow, I know he is speaking it both aloud and into my head.
He is undone, too.