Chapter 5 | Sephania #2
We travel in sullen silence, moping through the thickly forested mountains.
Eventually, Lukain chirps up. “If I remember correctly, we all vowed ourselves to Sephania. The one who holds the Loreblood in her veins.”
“That vow still holds,” Skar growls.
“Then why are we following you?”
I stifle a sharp gasp. This evening might end in more bloodshed after all, if this keeps up.
Trying to play the peacemaker, I interject before Skartovius can voice his opinion.
Because of my anger, it comes off more backhanded than I mean when I say, “Skartovius just lost his pretty castle and estate, Lukain. Let him have this night. He knows where the real power lies.”
We find refuge in a small forest cave a little over an hour later.
It’s barely large enough to fit us inside it, but the overhang protects us from sunlight so it’ll have to do.
When I glance over at my sleeping mates, Vallan is inadvertently spooning Garroway, and Skar’s legs are tangled with Lukain’s.
I smile at the sight. If the half-brothers knew their bodies were anywhere near each other, they’d draw swords. And Vallan with his giant frame draped over Garroway, well . . . Garro is everyone’s little cub in this outfit. He probably knows what’s happening and loves it.
Palacia lies on her back near the front of the cave with me, where I’m taking first watch. Her head is in my lap, pretty face staring up under my chin, though she’s not looking at me. She’s peering at the ceiling of the cave with bright, unblinking, unnerving eyes.
Absentmindedly, I stroke the vampirex’s lank hair. It used to be so beautiful and golden. Her new state has morphed it a sickly green and tawny color.
“Are you sure you don’t need rest, Pala?” I ask in a small voice, making sure not to wake the others.
“I won’t leave you awake alone,” she answers flatly. Her small hands are folded just below her chest, where I notice her nipples pebbling against the thin fabric of her nightgown. “I’m not tired yet.”
I blush, turning my gaze outside the cave. The forest dapples with sunny rays lancing through the canopies. The afternoon is quickly upon us, with the morning fog dissipating before my eyes. It breathes a fresh warmth and crispness into the heady mountain woods.
Biting my lower lip, I glance down at Palacia’s slack face. “Can I ask you something?”
She blinks up at me. Again, unnervingly, almost like she’s not seeing me. I wonder what goes on in that undead mind of hers—how much of her humanity was stolen when Lukain turned her to save her from a grisly death at Spymistress Alacine’s hands.
“Why did you, uh, engage with Aelin and Tymon?”
As arousing and surprising as it was, it feels like a small betrayal, seeing them fucking like animals in heat.
All to draw me out of my room so Tymon’s assassins could perch inside my chambers and wait for me to return.
I realize now it was likely a ploy—a diversionary tactic—but I need to know Palacia’s side of it.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Sephy. I know you were watching.”
I inhale sharply. It’s the first time Palacia’s called me that since she turned. “I-I’m not embarrassed.” But my face feels suddenly flushed. Having her head in my lap is abruptly quite debilitating.
Palacia doesn’t smile or make fun of my obvious lie.
Gathering my wits, I say, “How . . . did you know?”
“I could smell you.” That only makes me more self-conscious and appalled, yet she continues. “Ever since drinking from you, your presence is heightened around me. I see you . . . differently. In a new light, Mistress.”
“I’m n-not your mistress, Pala. I’m your friend.”
Her lip quirks with a tiny smile. It quickly vanishes and she gazes blankly at the rough cave ceiling. “In fact, it was not Aelin I imagined while pumping into her. It was—”
“You don’t need to tell me that!” I gasp in a hurry.
My words came out louder than before. My mates rustle and toss behind us.
One of them lifts a head and sleepily asks if everything is all right.
I wave him off, unable to take my eyes off Palacia.
Shit, shit, shit. I should not have started this conversation!
“You ask me why I did it?” Pala continues, letting her breakthrough admission die on her lips. Her bony shoulders rub along my thighs as she gives a small shrug. “I did not know it was something I wasn’t supposed to do,” she answers simply.
I tilt my head. “Well. It’s, erm, not that it’s not something you’re not supposed to do.
” I have no idea if I’m even making sense now she has me all flustered.
“I was just curious. I guess. Given our situation and all the years that separates us from the Grimsons, I suppose I’m wondering what drew you to Aelin. ”
She takes a moment to speak. Her thin lips crease into a frown.
“I wish I could say it was the need for a human memory. A futile grasp at a life I recalled from before . . . this. But the truth? It was a warm hole offered to me. I have no love for Aelin. Or anyone, really. This new version of me . . . it’s a mystery.
I don’t understand myself. I wasn’t seeking understanding or companionship with Aelin.
I was simply seeking . . . feeling. If that makes sense. ”
I blink wide at her, slowly nodding. “More than you can imagine, my friend.”
She closes her eyes at last. It lets me breathe again.
I’m starting to think allowing her head on my lap was a huge mistake.
Yet, even as an “emotionless” vampire, she just said something that feels so profound to me.
It’s hard to imagine there isn’t a stitch of humanity inside that miniature frame of hers.
A tiny smile plays at the corner of her mouth, her big eyes remaining closed. “I have found this new form needier than I ever was as a human. I saw an opportunity to relieve myself and took it. The reason is irrelevant, I imagine. It was the sheer pleasure I was after.”
She falls quiet then, squirming slightly in my lap.
I want to wrap my arms around my friend. Even more alarmingly, I feel the sudden need to dip my face and place my lips on hers. She looks so fragile, even though I know she is anything but. She’s one of the strongest people I know, and it has nothing to do with being a vampire.
Most alarmingly, however, is the stomach-dropping and heart-lurching feeling I get when I notice movement in my peripheral vision, glance to my left down the length of her prone body, and see a ludicrous protrusion tenting her nightgown and throbbing.
Her gown is stained with arousal at the point of her situation, presenting me with a perfectly visible outline that looks so—
I inhale sharply and leap to my feet, accidentally sliding her head off my lap.
In true emotionless fashion suiting only a vampire, Palacia’s eyes open and she stares down at her absurd erection, stretched by her gown a good foot from her body, and then looks up at me with a frown. “Is something amiss, Sephy?”
“Nothing is missing!” I squeak. “Nothing is wrong, nothing is missing or amiss, obviously. I mean. Ha! Amiss, missing—isn’t it funny how those two words .
. .” My face is on fire. I gesture at nothing in front of me, motioning toward the sunlight past the cave, trying to shut down my word vomit.
“I-I-I think it’s time I sleep! I’ll wake one of the others for the next shift. Goodnight, er, good morning, friend!”
I scurry off to the back of the cave before she can say anything else. Worrying how my thoughts and body deceive me at the worst of times.
And worrying how nice the deception feels.