Chapter 2 #3
His pupils grow, swallowing his irises until blackness is all that stares back at me. When he speaks again, his fangs flash.
“I have given you everything,” he says. “Exquisite jewels, beautiful gowns, everything. And this is how you repay me? By running off when I turn my back?”
“I never asked for any of it.” I lean against the desk, desperate to get farther away from him.
“I won’t have such ungratefulness.”
When my hand moves farther back on the desk, it meets something cool and smooth. Glancing down, I see a glimmer of silver. A letter opener. Thinking fast, my fingers wrap around it the same time Henri lunges for me. His hand snatches the neck of my nightgown, tearing the fabric.
I hold my breath and swing my weapon with all my might.
Henri staggers backward, hissing, and I know instantly that I’ve made contact.
“You bitch!” He clutches his cheek, but blood leaks between his fingers.
I feel the sting of his slap before I realize what’s happened. The pain is so sharp and sudden, I stumble from the desk and fall onto my knees. Colors dance before my eyes, and my jaw aches terribly. Is that coppery taste in my mouth blood?
“How dare you!” he yells.
I rub the throbbing spot on my face and wince. Tears spring up in my eyes, but I force them back, refusing to show this monster any more weakness.
A strike of lightning ignites the room in violet, and in the flash, I notice the thin, silver letter opener not too far away.
I reach for it again, but before I can grab it, he grabs a fistful of my hair and hauls me to my feet.
Something cool touches my neck, and I freeze.
Henri’s holding the letter opener now with the tip pressing against my throat.
Heart in my throat, I don’t dare move, don’t blink, don’t breathe. With just a little more pressure, he can kill me. And he’s crazy enough to do it.
This close to him, I watch as the gash across his cheek knits together and closes until nothing is left but perfect pale skin. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
“What are you?” I gasp.
He chuckles. “I am someone who should not be tested.” Then, in one easy motion, he whirls me around so that my back is pressed against him.
“I could stop this so easily,” he whispers into my ear. “It would take no effort at all. A flick of the wrist and that little pretty throat of yours would be cut, your blood spilling and covering my floors like a warm blanket…”
Even though my pulse races, something inside me wants to tell him to do it. Do it and get it over with. Death has to be better than this cat-and-mouse game he loves to play.
“But I won’t,” he goes on before I can respond. He eases the blade off me. “I’m quite fond of these floors and you would be no use to me dead.”
Using his fingers, which are still tangled in my hair, he jerks my head back. Pain shoots through my skull, but I press my lips together to prevent myself from crying out. The letter opener runs up to my chin, and then down to the line of my cleavage.
He moves it to my right breast and that’s where the blade slices into my skin. I suck in a sharp breath.
“Will you ever learn?” he asks, pressing his icy lips to my bare shoulder. “We can be so much more than this, my love. You and me together again. It’s what I have waited centuries for.”
Again? My love? What does he mean?
“Malcolm won’t be able to separate us this time. I’ve made sure of it.”
Malcolm? I’ve never heard that name before. What is he talking about?
When his grip loosens, I peer down and see a thin line of blood emerging from his cut. But unlike his, it doesn’t heal over as if by magic. A ruby drop begins to travel down my curves, leaving a dark red trail in its wake.
Before it can hide behind my gown, Henri moves around me lightning fast, dips his head, and glides his tongue over it. A monstrous growl vibrates in his throat.
I try to shove him away, pushing at his shoulders, but his hand snakes up my back to hold me still. He’s too strong to move—made of stone instead of man—so I pound at his back instead with my fists.
His fangs pierce the flesh over the wound, and I cry out.
The pain is immediate but short-lived. As he draws in mouthfuls of my blood, there’s an aching and cramping that plagues me instead, one I recognize all too well from the other times he’s fed from me.
As he continues to drink, my vision grows hazy and my skin prickles with numbness.
Soon, all that’s left is the lingering pressure of his hand on my back holding me upright and the booming of my heartbeat in my ears.
I can hear it slowing, feel my life draining away, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
Suddenly, he pulls away from me, and through half-closed eyes, I watch him lift his head and give me a red-stained smile.
Unable to will my body to work, I can do nothing as he sweeps me up into his arms like a child and carries me across the study.
My limbs are too heavy, and my head rolls back.
Lightning illuminates the room once again, but my vision dims.
As we pass through Henri’s bedroom door, the crow’s shining eyes are the last thing I see before darkness swallows me whole.