Chapter 5
FIVE
Crymson
It’s strange to be sneaking the halls in the Fae Kingdom the same as I did in the Blood Kingdom. It’s also completely bizarre that no one gives a single shit when they spot me, the foreigner creeping around their gilded home.
Two kitchen chefs peek up at me as I slip through the kitchen.
The one with large pale ears and dark brown hair looks me up and down as she wipes thoroughly at the spotless stone counter.
The other nods peacefully. I can’t bring myself to say even one word to them though.
I try as casually as possible to smile halfway before scurrying out the swinging door and down the infirmary hall.
I just need someone to talk to. Someone who will make sense of all the nonsense in my screwed-up life.
I need Seven.
“What are you doing, clever girl?”
A breath catches painfully in my throat as I spin at the sound of a cold gravelly voice.
The length of his lean body rests lazily against the shadows of the doorway. Messy dark hair nearly touches the top of the frame, but he tilts his head to the side as a slow eerie smile spreads over vicious sharp teeth.
“Who are you?” I steel my spine, crossing my arms tightly over my chest and facing the nightmarish man head on.
“Just a friend,” he whispers.
“Whose friend?”
The lazy smile against his lips turns wicked as his crimson eyes zero in on me. “Yours.”
I can’t help the bitter laughter that shoves from my lungs. When I was little, I used to want a friend so damn bad. On the playground filled with laughter and smiles, in the middle of the night when the yelling became so loud it knotted my stomach with crawling nerves.
It’s when you grow up you realize you need no one.
And that’s all I’ve ever had.
“You’re not my friend.”
He tilts his curious head once more.
“How do you know?”
“Because I don’t have any fucking friends.”
A burning smell fills the room as glinting red embers spark the darkness, and then he’s right in front of me. Inky hands and an unnatural darkness highlight his skin. His bare chest is lined with hard lean muscle. His arms and shoulders are corded with strength. He could break me.
It’s my very first thought when I see the moonlight brighten his carved features.
The second thought is how unbelievably attractive he is.
It’s a dangerous, deadly kind of sexuality.
The kind that could get you burned, and you can’t help but inch a little bit closer to the flames.
His hand lifts, and just like that dangerous flame, I lean into it.
Gentle fingers skim along my jawline, and a trance of hypnotic shivers races beneath my skin.
“Do I feel like a friend?”
I shake my head slowly at him, never dropping his heavy gaze.
“I know what you feel. Don’t lie,” he whispers in a low voice, his head tipping down to hover along mine.
“It’s not a lie. You’re the epitome of stranger danger. You’re probably seconds away from rolling back the doors of your white van and inviting me inside for a piece of candy.
Pretty eyes shift to the side as he considers my words.
“I have no idea what any of that means,” he finally replies with a warm breath across my lips.
“I don’t even know your name,” I barely say between heavy breaths.
What is happening right now?
His smile reveals those sharp white teeth behind manic humming laughter.
“It’s Carver. Some call me the Blood Carver, but formalities aren’t really necessary between friends,” he murmurs on a low rumbling tone that just makes me fall even further into his madness. I dive into it with a heady need to feel every single inch this mysterious man can give me.
And then his lips brush mine. Sparks like fire and desire sting my skin where his body touches mine.
I lean into the pain as his hand laces through my hair, and he grips hard enough to bring a whimper up my throat.
But the sound is devoured by his kiss. It’s all so fast and intense.
My body doesn’t even feel like my own, but at the same time, I feel . . . everything.
He steps forward, my legs tangle with his, and in the rush of it all, he grips my ass tightly and lifts.
My weight crashes against an uneven surface, the table rocking beneath me and rocking my core against his hips in the most amazing rush of needy energy.
That same unsteady hum of laughter shakes over my lips, and I find myself smiling against his unhinged amusement.
He’s heady and delicious and wrong. So, so wrong.
But he feels so fucking good too.
He feels like life and freedom and normalcy.
And I’ve never felt that before. Ever.
My hands dip low, and the cool metal of his belt brushes my fingertips for a single second before a tight grip snatches around my wrist. A heavy breath breaks our kiss, and he looks down on me with bright moonlight glinting across pure sadistic, crimson-kissed eyes.
“You don’t want to do that,” he whispers along my lips. Calculating thoughts shift across my mind as he studies me through an intense stare.
“Why? Afraid you’ll disappoint me?” My eyes narrow on him despite how hard my heart pounds for us to finish what we started.
“No. I’m afraid I’ll make you find disappointment with every man who ever touches you after me. I don’t want to ruin you, Crymson.” That sharp arrogant smirk still lines his lips.
I don’t want to ruin you . . .
“What do you want?” I ask, realizing neither of us has pulled away from the other. My legs are still tightly wrapped around his lean hips, and his hand is still tangled through my hair.
“To save you,” he whispers eerily.
Shivers crawl across my arms at the sound of his warning whisper.
Then he steps back, leaving me fumbling down until my unsteady feet stumble back to the floor.
And he keeps walking backward, his smirk seeming less amused and more saddened with every step he puts between us.
Shadows crawl across his shoulders little by little, devouring him like a twisted dream, one I hope I’ll never forget.
“I’m on the lowest floor if you ever need someone you can trust.” He waits in the doorway, lingering there in the hungry shadows.
A thousand confused questions slam through my mind. I want to ask him about the Fae King. About the Dark Lands. About everything.
“I won’t,” I say instead.
“You will,” he says with his annoying smile. And then he winks, turns on the toe of his dark boot, and leaves.
I explore the rest of the castle at my leisure, mostly just checking into rooms and seeing what’s here. I don’t find anything else of note, but I do stumble upon a few women gossiping about the King.
“I heard he punched the Vampire Prince right in the face,” one of them giggles just as I come around the corner.
“I heard he ripped his arm off,” another says, her eyes wide.
Their gazes all jerk to me as I appear, surprised. “He didn’t do either of those things,” I correct them. “There wasn’t even a fight.”
The three fae women blink and glance at each other. “Not even a little punch?” one of them asks, a bit disappointed.
I chuckle. “Unfortunately, no. Though I could have done with Boris getting a good ass kicking.”
They giggle. “Couldn’t we all?”
I turn to leave, but before I disappear, I turn back. “Oh, could I ask a question?”
“Sure,” the nearest one says, and her eyes are so pale, they sparkle like diamonds.
I bite my lip. “What’s on the lowest level of the castle?”
She blinks. “Oh . . . um, that would be the dungeons, miss.”
I sigh. “Figures. Thank you.”
And then I leave them to their gossip, my mind full of vampires, fae, and the strangeness my life has become.