James hefted me up like one of his sacks of squirrels. He held my mouth so only tiny whimpers could get out as I clawed the back of his hand. Drawing blood.
Seeming unfazed, he continued to drag me backward. Straight toward my room.
How’d he know?
I got my answer once we were inside.
The shutters were open wide, indicating my window was the one he’d came through.
How long had he been here?
The thought that he could’ve been sitting there watching me sleep was unsettling.
It made me feel terrifyingly vulnerable.
He pushed the bedroom door closed.
Hoping it’ll muffle whatever happens in here enough that my parents won’t wake.
This is bad. My instincts were crawling.
James growled at me. “If you’re loud and you wake them, I’ll rip them apart.”
I squeaked. Nodding behind his hand. I could hear the anger in his voice. Feel the fury rolling off him that told m
I swallowed. Feeling my gut drop and my mouth go dry. “Wh-why a-a-are you h-here? We already...” “Why am I seeing you for a second time tonight?” He asked thoughtfully. Filling in the gaps for me. I nodded, feeling like my throat was so tight I wasn’t sure I could get the words out. “Whoa...Let’s see...” He rolled his eyes like a child considering what wrongs he’d done for the day. Except he’s considering what I’ve done... Like freeing all his captives. Except one... “Could it be because all you’ve stolen from me?” His gaze landed on me again. Wide eyed enough I couldn’t read him. His features far too relaxed to warn me how badly this conversation could go were I not careful. “I-I didn’t.” He smirked. A dimple dipping into his right cheek. He lifted the cane off the bed and spun it leisurely as he approached me. I ducked to the side, trying to evade the corner but he tossed the
I had defied Mathis yet again. Despite what he’d ordered, I’d not gone to WitchFall. Earlier this morning I’d decided that it would be wise to save us both the grief of the argument and just go. But as the evening drew nearer I had two problems. One: I couldn’t think of a way of leaving my parents’ house that early. I had no plausible excuse. Two: I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I knew I should. Knew it would taper his fury at me some. And still, I was so reluctant that I couldn’t force myself to. But when there was a knock only a few minutes past six, I found myself scrambling around the small shelter trying to find a place to hide. There was nowhere. And my father was eyeing me as though I’d lost my mind. My mother pulled the door open and revealed him standing on our stoop. Leaning leisurely against his silver accented cane. His head tipped low beneath the dark brim of a tall hat. He was dressed in finery. A gr
“Are you going to kill me?” I asked him as the gravel crunched under our feet. “No. Why would you think that?” Because I never know what to expect with you. “You were furious with me last night.” I said tentatively. Recalling how angry he’d looked when he stood in my room accusing me of trying to poison him. How did he know? “I was.” He said decisively. “I am.” “So, what are you going to do?” Kill me? “The worse thing possible.” He said off-handedly. Offering me an arm. Not quite an invitation. I took the proffered arm,with a shaking hand. Glancing over my shoulder and seeing that my parents still watched us from the doorway. They can’t see how scared I am. I knew if they were alarmed, my father would try to stop us. And God only knows what Mathis would do to him. I thought of James in the market. So hollow.
He gave a satisfied nod and held his hand out for mine. “Come.” I reluctantly set mine in his bigger one. His folded around it. His thumb caressing along the back, possessively. A strange thrill flowed through me, warmth at the gentle touch. Appreciation at his kindness. Making me want more. Which only made me want to yank my hand away more. But doing so might shatter this strange bubble of gentleness he was creating. I’d rather stay here as long as I can and stave off whatever awful thing is coming next. Just as we were nearly to the carriage he stumbled and slumped forward. Surprised, I turned reflexively and caught him. A hand on his muscled chest as I steadied him. Frowning. “Are you okay?” His lips curved sideways, and he made it to the carriage to lean against it. Resting an elbow near his head as he eyed me. His face unreadable. He was very good at concealing his thoughts when he wished to.
I puzzled on that question the rest of the way to Kirkin. “What are you looking at?” He asked. “I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with you.” “I told you. You’re damaging me.” “This is not my fault!” He looked at me unblinkingly. His green eyes suddenly very dark. “I don’t know how you’re doing it.” He said as if dismissing all my objections. “I’m not!” “It depends very much on what you really are.” “I’m not anything!” Just the girl you’re torturing. “You are something...” His eyes narrowed on me. “I wish you could tell me what. I’d dearly like to know.” So, would I! “Is this because of the Twinkets?” “Perhaps it’s something to do with them. But it is more a case of the chicken or the egg.” “What?” “Are you powerful and destructive because the Twinkets are with you? Or are they with you because of that vast power.” “I have no po
We danced for a time but I was hollow. The joy of being here gone as I debated back and forth the awful truth of what he said. Perhaps I do love part of him. But I hate so much more. What’s wrong with me? How could I care for an animal like him? When the night was done, the host and hostess waited by the door to bow to all their guests and thank them for coming. “Lord Burns.” The gracious host beamed. “Thank you for gracing us with your presence.” “And that of your lovely companion.” His short, chubby wife smiled at me. Her expression so soft and full of light that I wanted to hug her and beg her not to let him take me away. But he’d likely just kill them both. “Do come back soon.” The host invited. His smiling gaze trailing to me. “You as well, My Dear.” I nodded stiffly. Unsure what I could possibly say. Mathis put his hand along my lower back and guided me o
The world around us seemed to be slowing. The candlelight from two stands near the bed caused a dim, dancing glow along the walls. Shivering as they lowered and lifted in some freak wind. Mathis was kissing me again. His lips moving against mine and then dropping along the sides of my jaw and down my throat. His nimble hands had released mine behind my buttocks, to work the fine bindings in the back of the dress. Expertly fleeing them as he reached the top and slid the shoulders open. Gliding them down over my biceps and letting the top of the dress fall until it was only the crested peaks of my small breasts that caught the fabric. He reached around the front to give the firmer corset a light tug which had the fabric dropping to pool around my waist. “Look at you...” He remarked. “Like the sweetest offering.” For one harsh moment I thought about snapping I was no offering. But I remembered that as Matthew, he’d yet to be cruel to me. But nake
“Fey?” I’d never heard of such things. What does that mean? He chuckled harshly. “I’m not the only of my kind, Saria. There are others like me. Though not as powerful. Because I learned to shuck my skin and feed on the magic of others who carry similar blood.” “What is a fey?” “A creature constructed of magic, land, and blood. Powerful.” That sounded to me like I’d have described a witch. “I don’t understand why you ‘feed’...?” I swallowed. Finding the word uncomfortable to say. “I have to find others who have the same fey lines in their blood and draw their magic to feed my own. Because as we age, over the centuries, if we do not die and come back, our power weakens. So, I need yours to retain my strength. To keep this shell from aging. To keep me whole...” I blinked at him. Wanting to ask for the thousandth time why he was being kind tonight. But knowing those answers would not change. They haven’