Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
VIVI
ISLE OF ISOLATION, STRIGOI KINGDOM
Ciprian? I whisper, feeling a strange sort of aloneness. It reminds me of how I felt when I entered this realm, how I realized quickly that I was no longer in the forest outside of Negru Castle, but somewhere else entirely.
I… I couldn’t feel Ciprian.
And I can’t seem to sense him now, either.
I didn’t even grasp how connected we were until I experienced the severance in our link. Which is how I know something is very wrong now.
But I don’t think I’ve traversed to another realm again.
I’m rather certain I’m still in the Strigoi Kingdom. Although, the log cabin in front of me reminds me of something I might have found in the Hocking Hills back home.
There are a lot of windows overlooking the woods, as well as what appear to be two floors.
And the door is wide open.
My lips twist. Why does this feel like the beginning of a horror movie?
Gaby would probably tell me to run and hide. Wait for Ciprian to come swooping in with his wings and rescue me. Become the damsel in a fairy tale.
Except, no.
That’s… that’s not the kind of book she would read.
She likes her heroines kick-ass and strong.
I arch a brow. How ironic.
I don’t feel all that kick-ass or strong right now. But it’s pretty clear that running and hiding isn’t an option.
And as for waiting for Ciprian, well…
I close my eyes.
This is obviously a trial. Or I’m in the midst of one, anyway.
So much for having a week to prepare.
Acceptance was never a topic for negotiation. Ciprian chose me. And I’m pretty sure I chose him, too.
The obsession is mutual. The why of it doesn’t matter. I’m here. He’s somehow cut off from me. So I need to do this on my own.
Pass the trial.
Win the Strigoi King.
Yeah. Okay. Just a walk in the park.
Or, I guess, a walk into the log cabin.
I close my eyes and blow out a breath. “Sure. Yep. Creepy cabin. Entering now.” What other choice do I have? Do I run back out into the woods? Pretty certain that would be an instant failure.
They might throw me into an ocean, force me to tread water for eternity or something. That would absolutely suck after the run I’ve just completed.
I shake my head and open my eyes once more.
Then I step into the cabin.
Nothing happens.
It’s silent.
Eerie.
Cold.
Brow furrowing, I move deeper inside. There’s a small den to the right, the bookshelves drawing me forward as I read over the unfamiliar titles. “Definitely a different world,” I muse, studying the alphabetized novels. “Hmm.”
There are no electronics in here. Just a notepad. Some pens. An unlit candle. And a letter knife.
I consider grabbing the last item but decide that would just be foolish. I’m not even sure if Strigoi can die.
Well, that’s not true. Ciprian said that his kind are capable of dying. However, he didn’t tell me how to kill one.
So.
I’ll just… keep wandering.
I find a small living area next, the stairs that head up to the second floor, and a tiny kitchen with a dining nook.
Peering out the back door, I wonder if maybe I’ve missed the owner. Or if—
“Fresh blood?” a deep voice asks from behind me, the sound of wings fluttering causing my heart to skip a beat.
I turn slowly to find a tall man—a Strigoi—with broad shoulders. A perfectly chiseled jaw. Too handsome a face.
Just like Ciprian.
He even has a red tail.
Though, his dark hair is longer. Unkempt. And his irises are pure crimson. Crazed.
I stare at him. Then frown. He’s the spitting image of my Strigoi King.
Which can only mean one thing.
“You must be Ciprian’s father.”
The man—who was prowling toward me—pauses and cants his head. “Ciprian?”
“Your son,” I say, holding his gaze. “My intended mate.”
He blinks a few times. “Intended mate?”
“Yes.”
“You’re… a candidate?”
“Yes,” I repeat. “The only one.” I utter that part with a hint of possession that I don’t bother to hide. Ciprian doesn’t need any other candidates. He has me. And I—
My back hits the wall harshly, causing the air to leave my lungs as I suddenly find myself pinned by Ciprian’s father. His nose is against my throat, his chest rumbling with a growl that renders me temporarily speechless.
It’s so different from the rumbles I’m used to from Ciprian. Those make me feel weak. Aroused. Willing to supplicate.
But this growl just makes me want to fight.
Because it’s all wrong.
“Do not bite me,” I demand, my voice oddly calm given my predicament. “Ciprian wouldn’t like it.”
The male doesn’t move, just inhales noisily against my neck before pulling back to stare down at me. “You smell like my Shyla.”
“No, I smell like your son. Because I’m his chosen mate.
” I narrow my gaze up at the towering beast. “And his mother’s name was not Shyla.
” That might not be the right thing to say.
But I’m going with my instincts here. “You mated her sister.” Whose name I don’t know. However, I don’t voice that out loud.
Not that he would even be able to hear me, anyway, since he’s now snarling at me. “You dare speak to me this way, human?”
“You’re the one who shoved me up against a wall,” I point out. “I was being polite until you did that.”
He blinks at me. “What?”
“You hurt me.” I place my palm on his chest to give him a little shove back.
To my surprise, he moves.
“I don’t appreciate being pushed around,” I add. “Human or not, I deserve respect. Just like a Strigoi, just like you.”
His brow furrows. “Who are you?” he asks, searching my face.
“Viviana Dalca,” I say, holding out my hand. “Your son’s intended mate.”
He glances down at my palm, then back up at my face. “I don’t know you.”
“No, you don’t. That’s why I’ve introduced myself. You are… King Negru?” I voice the name as a guess, assuming he and Ciprian share a last name since they’re father and son.
The way the Strigoi straightens his shoulders suggests I was right because a glimmer of pride enters his features, making him even more handsome. “Yes, I am.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” I lower my hand since he doesn’t seem all that interested in a handshake. “I believe you’re my trial.”
“Trial?” His brow comes down. “You dare speak to me about the trials?”
The air leaves my lungs once more as I find myself back up against the wall. “Stop that,” I hiss at him, my body screaming in agony at being shoved not once but twice. “I’m in a trial!” I shout at him. “You are my trial. Or I assume you are. Did no one tell you?”
He glowers at me. “This is a fucked-up offering. I prefer my blood in bags.”
“I’m not an offering,” I say through my teeth as he starts scenting my neck for the second time. “I’m your son’s intended mate. That’s why I smell like him.”
King Negru—or former King Negru, or whatever his name actually is—pauses. “Ciprian?”
“Yes.”
He slowly pulls away from my throat, his dark wings flaring. “Why are you here?”
I’ve already answered that, so I try a different route. “The Strigoi wanted me to meet you.” Or I assume they did, anyway, since this seems to be a trial of sorts. “I think they want your approval.”
It’s a solid guess, given how most marriage unions work. Maybe matings operate in similar ways among the Strigoi?
He scoffs. “Why would they care about my approval? They’ve left me here to rot.” He shoves away from me and goes to a giant metal box that looks somewhat like a refrigerator.
Only, when he opens it, it’s empty.
He reaches inside anyway, making me frown until he pulls out a glass of what looks like blood.
A glass that definitely did not exist a few seconds ago.
“How…?” I trail off and move to join him. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?” He moves to close the door, but I stop him.
“That blood—or I assume it’s blood, anyway—appeared out of thin air.” I wave my hand inside the fridge, seeing if it’s just an illusion. But all I sense is space.
He looks at me, his brow pinched. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to figure out how this thing works,” I admit, frowning back at him. “Was the glass disguised or something?”
His long lashes wink at me as his eyes open and close in a slow blink. “You’re a confusing human.”
“You’re a confusing Strigoi,” I return. “Well, that might not be fair to say. You’re only the third one I’ve ever met.” I return my focus to the still-open fridge and feel the sides of it, continuing my investigative quest. I will figure out how this works.
“You have to tell it what to give you,” he says slowly. “And what do you mean, I’m the third one you’ve met? Did you grow up in isolation?” I glance at him to see his expression morphing into surprise. “Is that why you’re here? Have the Strigoi finally gifted me with a companion?”
“I… Maybe?” I frown at him. “And when you say I have to tell it what to give me, are you talking about the fridge?”
We stare at each other for a long beat.
“This is… interesting.” That’s all he says for a moment before adding, “I’m not sure if I like this development or not. You’re rather na?ve for a human.”
“I’m not na?ve,” I reply, somewhat offended. “I’m just new to this world.”
“New how?” he asks, leaning against the counter as he sips his drink.
“Your son found me in a different realm,” I explain. “And in my realm, a refrigerator doesn’t magically produce glasses of blood.”
“It’s actually a blutini,” he informs me flatly. “Some blood, but mixed with bubbies.”
“I…” My brow crinkles. “What are bubbies?”
We engage in another staring contest, then he reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bowl of what look like ruby-red berries. “It’s a fruit.”
“Are they safe for human consumption?” I ask.
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t be,” he replies.
“In my world, some berries are poisonous.”
“Oh.” He cants his head. “Tell me more about your world.”
Before I answer him, I try putting my hand in the fridge again and whisper, “Bowl of human-safe berries, please.”
To my shock, one appears right in my hand.
“You don’t have to say it out loud,” the former king tells me, sounding somewhat amused. “You just think of it and it exists.”
“Anything?” I inquire.
Hmm.
“Grilled cheese sandwich like Radu made,” I suggest.
When that materializes next, I gasp.
“Holy wow, this is amazing.” The words are a whisper to myself, but the Strigoi beside me clearly hears it. Because he makes a choking sound.
Glancing at him, I realize he’s chuckling. Or trying to, anyway.
“This does not exist in my world,” I inform him. “At least, not that I know of.” I frown. “I’m going to be most disappointed if I find out Ciprian has one of these in his castle and didn’t show me.”
I carry my treasures over to the little dining nook and set them on the table, then return for a magical glass of water, and go to sit.
All while King Negru watches me with an openly curious expression.
“So, you want to hear about my world?” I ask, popping a strawberry into my mouth.
He returns his bowl to the fridge—which causes it to vanish—and joins me. “Yes.”
I nod. “All right…”