33. Moon River in Midnight
Chapter 33
Moon River in Midnight
CINDER
R oaming the halls of a castle for vampire fairies alone with all this delicious blood pumping through my veins probably puts me in the dumb category. The same category as a girl who suspects there's a slasher murderer in her house before she loudly announces she is going to take off her clothes and hop in the shower.
I still haven't found the Ember of Midnight and my heart aches, stretching out toward wherever it is. The missing part of me. It must be in the castle.
Though it is always night in the realm, there are the same eight hours of rest afforded that there is to the Common World. It’s just offset which makes for a perfect complement of straddling worlds. Though it doesn't mean I get much sleep after stepping back into Midnight from the Poison Apple shift only to have to get ready and put on a show for the fairies.
Not to mention the intermittent fuck sessions with Prince Charming.
But right now, it's my time and I'm going to take it.
The halls are forbidding. The flickering candlelight casts eerie shadows on the ancient stone walls, making the portraits of long-dead fairies seem to watch me with cold, judgmental eyes. My footsteps echo in the silence, each too loud in this labyrinthine castle.
I pause before a particularly ominous painting, the subject's eyes seeming to follow me. A shudder runs down my spine, and I hurry the hell up to get away—the urge to find the Ember growing stronger.
As I turn a corner, a draft of cold air brushes against my skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. I frown, glancing around for the source. My gaze lands on a small, nondescript door, half-hidden, half-open in the shadows.
A fresh breeze sweeps through it, carrying the scent of fresh grass and roses, and spreading a chill along my skin.
Curiosity piqued; I approach cautiously. The door creaks open at my touch to reveal a narrow, winding staircase. My heart leaps into my throat. Could this be it? Could the Ember be hidden away in some secret hideaway with the rest of my father’s art?
Excitement wars with trepidation as I climb, the stairs steep and uneven beneath my feet.
Finally, I emerge onto a small balcony, the night sky stretching out above me in an endless expanse of stars. The moon hangs low and full, casting a silvery glow over the scene.
And there, leaning against the railing with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips is Prince Charming himself. The neon green earbuds he wears are a striking contrast to everything else in this place.
He turns at my approach, eyes widening in surprise. The shadows cast dark swaths over parts of his face, concealing half of his expression. His white shirt is unbuttoned, exposing ink and muscle. The sleeves are rolled up, revealing the strong tendons of his forearms.
Pulling out an earbud, he says. “Well, well. Fancy meeting you here, my dark princess.” Despite his teasing words, he doesn’t smile.
I freeze, my mind racing.
But as he takes a drag of his cigarette, the tip flaring orange in the darkness, I realize that he seems just as taken aback by my presence as I am by his.
“I couldn't sleep,” I say by way of explanation, moving to join him at the railing. The cool night air is a balm against my flushed skin, helping to clear my head as I scan the landscape. The dark crashing waves violently hit the cliffs and somewhere inside me.
Charming nods, blowing out a stream of smoke. “I know the feeling. These walls can be suffocating at times.”
There's a weariness in his voice that catches me off guard. In this moment, he seems almost. . . human. Relatable, even.
“Why do I get the sense that there's more to your restlessness?” His gaze pierces as it meets mine.
I look away, my fingers gripping the railing. Can I trust him with the truth? Can I afford not to, if I want to find the Ember?
“You’re not supposed to have that here,” I gesture to his earbuds, pointing out the obvious.
Kai pulls a small brick from his pocket, it fits in the palm of his hand. An mp3 player.
“Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve “become quite the smuggler over the years.”
“Oh,” I breathe as he shifts into a ray of silver moonlight.
Kai’s face is shades of black and blue, his lip is split again, and the left cheek is swollen.
Tilting his head down to look at the player in his palm, he says, “Thought I’d come drown out all my angst in some music for a while. You’ve somehow found my secret hideout spot, though I shouldn’t be surprised. You manage to get into all types of places I’ve never imagined.” The last sentence is a low, thoughtful murmur and I wonder if he means Midnight or something else.
“Your father?”
Fingers curl around the small music player. I watch his Adam’s apple do that slow long bob down then up again, whenever he seems to be holding onto a particularly intense emotion.
“He didn’t care for my attitude today.” He flicks the ash off his cigarette, enunciating his words more sharply than usual. “I still haven’t learned how to act like a Charming. Though it seems you would think otherwise.”
It’s the first time he hasn’t lied.
His father is the fucker who has been abusing Kai.
I could ask why he doesn’t admit it, but I don’t need to.
Why dwell on what you can’t change? When your pain becomes so constant, always expected, you don’t look to invite more people inside your situation.
I understand. I understand all too well.
“Why are you up here? Why don’t you go have some. . . blood and heal what he’s done to you.”
The moonlight casts a slice of light across Kaison’s eyes, and they are suddenly alight with rage. “I don’t want to forget just yet. And I don’t particularly care for blood.”
“Excuse me?” I must have misheard.
He manages to cast a wry, pained smirk at me. “Don’t get me wrong, blood is literally life, and sometimes. . . it can smell so sweet, so enticing.” His gaze drops to my throat, and the skin under his scrutiny prickles with fear and anticipation. Kai shuts his eyes and turns away. “But I don’t enjoy the dependence. I don’t really want to need it.”
“I don’t understand.”
I really didn’t. I needed food, but I also wanted it.
“I don’t ever want to forget where it comes from. I don’t want to take that shit for granted.” His hands curl around the stone edge, the bones turning taut from tension. “My father views blood as power, and he abuses power. I don’t want to be like him.”
“So what?” I let out a little laugh of disbelief. “You intentionally starve yourself to keep from being like your dad.”
His jaw flexes.
Oh. Oh my fae lords.
“You realize that’s insane right? You need to eat. I need to eat. We all need to eat.”
His head leans forward, that unruly bit of hair hanging in his eyes doing that trick where he goes from handsome to devastating. Still, he doesn’t answer.
Coward I am, I change the subject, “What are you listening to?”
Kaison holds out an earbud. I pop it in, bringing our faces closer together so it can reach.
Whatever I was expecting it wasn’t this.
Sure, some club music, or maybe some pop hit sung by a hot chick, but no.
It’s a cover of the song Moon River . Peeking at the screen, I see in tiny digital words, Frank Ocean. The song is layered, complex, beautiful and. . . sad.
There’s a wistfulness in it that wraps around my heart and doesn’t let go. My gaze lifts and I meet his. That same wistfulness, an intense hope shines from his eyes. His poor bruised eyes. He’s holding back drinking blood, forcing himself to feel the pain.
Whatever Prince Charming the world thinks it knows, they are all wrong. I was wrong too. He’s not a killer. He’s a protector. Protecting others because no one can protect him. Because he knows what pain and suffering is.
I know the same truth, but instead of protecting others, I withdraw into myself. Disconnect from the world to keep from feeling any further.
I’m seeing the real Kaison right now. I recognize the same look he gave me when we were young. It holds such intensity, such undirected need as if he is desperate for a freedom he can’t even fathom.
As the song begins to fade out, I ask, “Play it again?” It’s a whisper. I’m desperate to keep this moment from ending.
He wordlessly hits the button to start it over again. My heart flutters, unsure of how to beat as Kaison stares at me with unrestrained, open longing. Not for my body, not for my blood, but for me .
Our faces move in as one until our lips connect. We’ve kissed before, but there is a new weight to the pressure as our lips find one another’s. It’s like meeting a new person, and the effect of the kiss makes my heart thump so hard my chest rattles. My skin turns into one giant hungry organ, desperate to have him everywhere.
His hands find my hips before sliding up to my rib cage, pulling me closer to him until our chests are pressed together.
My lashes flutter enough for me to see Kaison’s face is contorted as if in pain as he meets my mouth with passionate intent.
Kai pulls back suddenly, looking at me with surprise. “Your tongue ring. It doesn’t burn,” he says in amazement.
I lick my lips. “When we were at Inked by Tink, I had her take me to the back real quick so we could swap out all my silver for something a little more. . . fiancé friendly.”
My pride pinches a little at the confession. The silver always gave me a sense of comfort, a layer of protection. But I traded it in for the vampire in front of me.
Next thing I know, I’m lifted onto the edge of the castle wall and he’s attacking my mouth with a fervor and husky thank yous . I pull up my skirts, his hardness meeting my hot, needy center.
We gasp against each other’s mouths as our sensitive straining parts meet.
“Cinder,” he rasps against my mouth. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of marshmallows. He pushes a couple on his sharp canines.
Like a man walking around with condoms should the occasion arise, Prince Charming is packing sugary fang bumpers. . . for me.
I could laugh. He presses his hips against mine, a primal and possessive move. I instinctively grab onto the hair at the back of his skull, tugging harshly as our bodies collide with an electrifying force.
The song rolls out and restarts again. He must have hit repeat.
We struggle with our clothes briefly until I feel the cool and even colder contact of his cock and piercing respectively. I let out a whimper, needing more, needing so much more, maybe even all of him.
When he pushes in, we both gasp and moan, taking in the overload of sensations.