23. A Romantic Stroll in a Graveyard
Chapter 23
A Romantic Stroll in a Graveyard
CHARMING
CHARMING
“ W hy are my friends so obsessed with you?” Cinder asks with that searing judgment in her eyes.
After her shift, we stopped by her favorite all-night cafe again so she could get yet another pumpkin spice latte and sweet cake.
We stroll through an old cemetery as the crisp night air nips at us. I’ve learned this is my goth girl’s happy place. One she reluctantly shares with me.
True to Rap’s word, Cinder returned to work after twenty minutes of being in the locker room.
Though despite my asking everyone what happened, no one would answer me. Cinder rolled her eyes and told me to mind my own fucking business. The only one I could squeeze anything out of was the bookstore owner, who told me as much as she knew.
Cinder occasionally gets dizzy, disappears for about a half hour then returns no worse for wear.
The memory of her stumbling during our first dance flashes in my mind, and then there’s when I had to hurry her out of the ballroom after our engagement was announced.
She seemed off-balance, weak. But she recovered soon enough. Still, I couldn’t help but feel the prickles of annoyance at not being told what was wrong.
Not that I fix things or make them better, but. . . something in me wants to try. For once.
As I gabbed with her friends, Cinder almost deliberately seemed to stick to the outskirts. She listened, and only occasionally chimed in.
It seems as though another one of Ted’s attempts to propose may have been thwarted.
He cooked a romantic dinner at home complete with candlelight and a tie. He’d been telling Goldie how much she means to him when one of his brothers stumbled in with a girl on his arm, bringing the party back to Ted and Goldie’s place. Things went downhill after that.
I've a mind to step in and help Goldie’s lumberjack-esque bear shifter beau. But from the few times I’ve encountered him at the Poison Apple, I don’t get the vibe that intrusion would be appreciated.
When I asked Goldie if Cinder would quit working to hang out, she responded that Cinder didn’t always feel comfortable in group settings.
Goldie didn’t tell me the information with any judgment, only love and acceptance.
Snow nodded her head. “Yeah, she just takes her space when she needs it.”
I wondered if Cinder knew how great her friends were, but I suspected she knew.
I kick a rock off a grave and respond to Cinder’s question. “Your friends are catching me up on the shitty mage reality shows I used to watch when I was in university in the Common World. I haven’t kept up in years. Not to mention I give great man advice.”
“That’s surprising considering you're only half a man,” she shoots back before sipping on her impossibly large drink. Whiffs of cinnamon and cardamom invade my senses.
“Want me to pull my pants down and prove my manliness to you?” I ask with my best playboy smile.
Those violet eyes flash as she scowls. “Don’t do that.”
“Flash you my gigantic manly dick hose?”
She shoots me the purple death. “Use that bullshit fake publicity smile with me.”
My heart clenches inexplicably. “I?—”
“And don’t tell me you don’t know what I mean. I’ve seen enough to know when it’s real and when it’s not.”
Well shit. Now a flutter has kicked up in my chest.
“Sorry.” My apology comes out a little hoarse.
No one’s ever called me on it before. Though I do possess an almost painful awareness of when I’m turning the lightbulb on and off for the Prince Charming show.
There’s a pause that is weighted by her calling me out, so I shoot my shot again.
“What happened at the bar tonight? You got dizzy. It also happened in the ballroom after we got engaged,” I point out.
Cinder shoves the last half of her spiced bread into her mouth until it’s near bursting with the cake. Then she points to her mouth, indicating she can’t talk.
“Jokes on you,” I slip my hands in my pocket. “You just fucked up the chance to enjoy that for longer, and I got all the time in the world to wait you out. Unlike you, I’ll live to be like five hundred years old. Maybe a thousand.”
Cinder glares, awkwardly chewing over the mouth load. The purple death is much less intimidating when cake is involved. I cover up my smirk when I see her expression fall a little as if she’s realized I'm right. I remain silent, walking by her side as she roughly swallows down the last big piece.
The silence is heavy between us, and I let it stretch between us. I pretend it doesn’t make me uncomfortable, that it doesn’t make me want to fill it with teasing or nonsense to yank her chain.
“I have anemia,” she finally answers.
“Anemia,” I shake my head. It sounds familiar, but I don’t know what that is.
“I don’t have enough healthy red blood cells, so sometimes I get dizzy or my heartbeat turns irregular. My feet and hands used to get cold all the time but that hasn’t happened in a while. In fact, I’m usually running hot these days,” she mutters more to herself.
Her blood smells plenty healthy to me, though I do my best to ignore that particular tantalizing scent.
It’s not easy.
When her scent hits me, it’s spiced cinnamon, cloves, and a hint of vanilla—warm and comforting. It's like a siren's call to me, a reminder of what I crave.
As Cinder talks about her condition, my mind drifts to the dangers that lurk within me, hidden beneath the surface of my calm demeanor. Most of the time I can ignore the fact she is a beater, but right now her heartbeat becomes my own, echoing in my ears.
I nod slowly, trying to focus on her words rather than the primal urge that whispers in the depths of my being.
The way her blood sings to me has my insides in knots. I clench my fists, willing myself to stay in control, to resist the temptation that dances before me in her every heartbeat.
The words hang heavy between us as we continue our nighttime stroll through the cemetery. My gaze is inexorably drawn to the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each breath, keenly aware of the rhythmic thrum of her pulse.
Heat rushes through my veins, an ancient hunger awakening from its slumber. I can almost taste the rich, coppery essence that flows beneath her skin—warm, intoxicating, utterly intoxicating. Desire coils low in my belly as vivid fantasies play out in my mind's eye, each more salacious than the last.
Forcing myself to meet her inquisitive stare, I'm transfixed by the molten depths of her violet eyes. They shine like precious gemstones, luring me into their fathomless depths until I'm utterly lost, consumed by want.
Without conscious thought I step forward, closing the gap between us until there's barely a breath separating our bodies. Cinder's back meets the solid rock of a weathered headstone as I cage her in with my arms, my fingers splayed against the cool granite on either side of her head.
Cinder looks up at me, concern etched on her face. She lets out a soft gasp, her pupils blown wide as her gaze flickers from my eyes to my lips and back again. I can hear the frantic cadence of her heart, sense the rush of blood heating her skin from within. The delicate flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat is a mesmerizing siren song that has my mouth watering in anticipation.
“Are you okay?” she asks, giving me a chance to stop. But I’m not sure I can. I’m obsessed, drawn in. Is this what it’s like to be thralled? If so, it’s not so bad.
Cinder goes stock still under me.
For a split second, I swear I see a flicker of orange flame dancing in the depths of her violet eyes. A trick of the light? Or something more?
She blinks and it's gone, but the air around us is charged, heavy with the scent of burning leaves—crisp, autumnal, a whisper of the season's change. It's entirely out of place and yet, inexplicably tied to her somehow.
Slowly, painfully slowly, I lean in until our lips are a hairsbreadth apart, our heated breaths mingling in the scant space between us. My eyes flutter shut as I savor the moment, every nerve ending in my body thrumming with unbridled need.
Just as I'm about to close that final inch, I stop.
Her blood rushes in my ears and heat emanates from her in intense waves, warming me to the center of my cold bones.
The beat of her heart.
It drums out at me.
An enticing message to every fiber of my being.
Fuck, I want to feed. I want to sink my fangs in her. I want to spear up into her tight little body with my dick and enter her every possible way while her liquid life flows down my throat.
I need to regain control. If I don’t, I’m going to do something I regret. So I reach out and grab for a question to distract.
“How does one get anemia?”