Chapter Sixteen

Qadaire

What had she planned to do? Was she going to run her ink-tipped fingers along his bicep? His jaw? He shut everything out and focused on the citrus and honey scent that still clung to the room. Maybe she’d wanted to pull him down, to try to kiss him again.

You are beautiful.

“That can’t be right,” he muttered. He argued with the piece of him that wanted to believe she’d meant it.

You are beautiful. The words snagged in the cobwebs of his troubled mind. Was it a sign his courtship was working? If that were the case, he should be glad. Was it fair of him to court her when he knew he was unworthy?

Beautiful.

Regardless if she believed that or not, he couldn’t kiss her. She deserved lips that could sing to her properly, could voice their feelings, could lave her with expertise. Not his gray, droll, muttering mouth, which had no business being so near to her lips, nor her warm cunt, her dew-coated lily.

What a gorgeous flower it was. What a divine delicacy. The sweet taste of her on his tongue had sent him into delirium. He’d lost control of his lower half as he’d used every bit of his body from navel up to gorge himself on her sweet nectar. The way she’d melted in his arms, flooding his mouth with her arousal. He fucking loved being the reason she loosened her hold. Her shoulders must be so heavy, with the weight of the world on them.

He couldn’t shake the memory of the hurt in her gentle features when he’d ditched her to change his trousers. He hoped she’d believed his lie and hadn’t seen the mess he’d made. That she hadn’t realized he was so far below her.

He fought a whole-body cringe at more scattered remembering. I have another challenge. For one irrational moment, he’d thought she was reading his mind. That her challenge would involve her slick thighs and his teeth, his fangs deep inside the flesh so close to her cunt that her sweet citrus scent would mix with her honey flavor, his fingers buried in the hive of her sex. He’d spent half the day discreetly listening to the vein in her wrist pulse. Entranced by the way her thighs rubbed against each other. Nine rings, those thighs! How he wanted to be smothered by them. Fuck oxygen, he would breath her.

The images in his head made his cock stiffen and his bump swell. He listened for her voice upstairs. He’d heard her reading to Zero in bed before, but it was quiet now. He went to a secluded area of the mansion to relieve himself. This woman hadn’t even touched him yet and he was spilling seed all over the place!

He allowed himself a long sleep of thirty minutes, the first rest he’d had since the day Cassandra arrived. The first thing he did with his fresh awareness was check for her presence. She was still asleep in the bedroom, with her sick pup.

To pass the time until she woke, he brought out his makeshift guitar. To ensure his new hobby remained a secret, he would have to stop playing a few hours before Cassandra woke. That would be enough time for his body to heal any marks on his fingertips from playing all night. He was steadily improving, although he knew it would be better once the guitar he’d ordered arrived. His magic would adjust for the delivery, directing the driver to the front door of an illusionary cottage much closer to the road.

The thought of his impending serenade reminded him of the emerald hair comb. He located it and put it in his pocket for safekeeping until an opportune moment.

Once he’d worked his fingers to the bone, he played more rounds of her favorite game with a half-willing crow who often had trouble sleeping, until they got tired and left. He was deep into a game against himself when he heard the soft pads of her feet slip onto the carpet. His breathing restricted and he became aware of exactly how each of his limbs were displayed. He stretched out comfortably and cleared his throat to soften his face.

“Good morning.” Cassandra yawned from the doorway. “Or afternoon or something, I guess. Looks like I adapted to your sleep schedule pretty quick, huh?”

“I don’t sleep often enough to have a schedule.”

She smiled wryly, amusement like the flickering of candlelight in her eyes. Why did it always seem she was laughing at him? Why did it make him feel like he was standing too close to a blazing bonfire? “What do you do with all that spare time?”

“Anything to avoid idleness. I tend to get stuck on things. Once I’ve mastered it, I move on to the next.”

“Same. But when I hyperfixate, I don’t reach mastery before I’m over it.” She rapped her knuckles against the table. “I’ll just check the lab and come back for a game.”

“Of course.”

He knew the status of their work, but he understood she needed to see for herself. Besides, with her expertise, he wouldn’t be surprised if she saw something he’d missed.

Qadaire heard Zero waking. He sped to the bedroom and scooped the pup into his arms, then deposited him back in the game room under Cassandra’s chair. He pulled the chair out and stood to the side.

“You’re so gentle with him,” she said softly. She leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, staring at him like he’d sprouted a third pair of arms. “Thank you.”

“He’s important to you.” He frowned at the dog, scenting that the sickness was running hotter than ever. “Is it shocking that I’m not a brute?”

Cassandra rolled those majestic brown orbs and swatted his upper bicep before slipping past him dangerously close. “Based on the myths about vampires, it is interesting.”

Qadaire grunted. Even if he’d wanted to respond, the graze of her fingertips was enough that he was in a hurry to be seated. He adjusted his trousers casually under the table. They played a few rounds of her board game. When he revealed the lotus faster for the second time, he laughed as she grumbled and swatted her knees.

“Ah, who’s the sore winner now?” He chuckled at her glare and reset the board, which his four hands made quick work of now that he knew it by heart. “You mentioned your family last night. Tell me about them.”

“Is this a ploy to throw my head out of the game?”

“Of course not. I’m simply interested in you.”

Cassandra assessed him. He only allowed a sliver of his meaning to slip through his mask, lest she discover exactly how interested he was.

“Well. My parents are dicks. Zero is pretty much my only family.”

“Pretty much?”

“Pretty much.” She sighed as she flipped a tile thoughtlessly and shrugged in a way that undermined her typical confidence. “Last I knew, my brother was overseas studying in Sweden. He left without saying anything.” She shrugged again, this time even more lackluster, and the motion made all twenty of his fingers itch to reach for her. “It was pretty clear where he stood. But that was forever ago, I’ve no idea what he’s up to now.”

“I see.”

She nodded, her thin lips pressed into a line. “So that’s my family. I mean, I’ve forgiven my brother, but what does that matter when he’s never reached out to me?”

“Have you tried to contact him?”

“Nope.” She ended the word with a pop and then her smile was back. “What about you? You’re lucky. Being close to people means losing them, but you’re immortal. So you don’t have—oh shit. My damn foot’s in my mouth again, shit!”

He watched her face pale of color, her gazelle eyes wide and stricken, and couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s fine.”

“I can’t believe I said that.”

“You’re not wrong. If I hadn’t killed Dracula, I would at least have companions other than birds. Fellow vampires. But most of that court was so deranged, I would have left anyway.” For a moment, he traveled back in time, the coppery scent of blood consuming him. Blood of dozens of different species spilled on the floor, the sound of bare feet slapping in the red-drenched tile. He shook himself and fidgeted with his upper hands on the table, wrestling his awareness from the memories before they turned into bodies lying on medical tables. “For the first few centuries, I held out hope that someone from another court would reach out. I tried convincing myself to glamor a human, bestow them immortality, and hope they would spend it with me once they knew what I’d done. I wasn’t able to bring myself to do that, and it’s surprisingly hard to drive a stake through one’s own heart. So here I am.”

“It must be so lonely.”

Every consonant she spoke was rich with compassion. He fisted all his hands but his main right, which he used to flip a random tile. He didn’t want to burden her with something he was strong enough to carry on his own.

“If you turned someone, would you pass on the curse?”

“No. The blood and venom test results match those of any other vampire.”

“Is there a way to confirm?”

“No. I could test on animals, but that would mean nothing.” And he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t expose an innocent creature to the darkness of his venom. Using it to feed was a quick death. Using it for experiments was something different. He didn’t need more demons to torment him. “Every species reacts differently. You saw what he considered entertainment, but you hardly glimpsed what he had his scientists working on. Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

“Oh?”

“Vampire venom is an interesting compound. It has healing agents, painkillers, antibodies, and aphrodisiacs, but it only releases what it deems necessary, depending on what’s in the blood it’s fed. Most animals don’t respond well and it doesn’t take root, or they receive too much painkiller to survive.”

“But humans are different?”

“It’s biological. During a Turning, the venom dispenses a series of all the different agents.” His insides rebelled, trying to drown the words he dredged from their depths. She was watching him now, her hand hovering above the table. “We found that the most powerful, experienced vampires could influence their venom on humans, bypassing the agents that made their prey’s death quick and painless. The venom would then be stored in their fangs, essentially hoarded for their own use on each other. Perfect for orgies and celebrations.” He sneered, his voice little more than a growl. “My colleague and I opted not to tell Dracula VI what we’d found. She paid with her life.” A braver man would’ve endured her gaze as he aired his dirty skeletons. “As far as accepting a Turning, it has to do with the similarity in our biologies.”

He made a half-hearted play. The room was so silent, even her human ears might’ve heard the breath caught in his lungs. He watched her flip a tile with a starburst of color. A few more moves were made before he mustered the courage to look at her. There was nothing in her expression that hinted at whether she would accept further courtship or ice him out.

“I don’t think less of you, if that’s what you’re wondering.” She proffered an empathetic smile. “Sounds like that bastard got what was coming to him. Although, at a high cost at your expense.”

“Indeed.”

The rest of the day and some of the night was spent over games, with trips to the lab. Cassandra’s music filled the silence when they weren’t speaking.

Hours later, deep into the night, Cassandra started yawning. The long days and nights were taxing her. She carried way too much. He excused himself to the lab and pretended to be busy until her pulse slowed. When he returned, she was snoozing in the chair. He watched the rise and fall of her belly. The soft sounds escaping her lips were so exquisite, he wanted to drink them down. Her lowered heart rate reduced the scent of her blood, but it was still there, a calm and peaceful rippling that beckoned him closer, begging to be inside him, to fill his throat.

He carefully bundled her into his upper arms, using his lowers to scoop Zero under his armpit. The big pup licked his hand.

Now Dr. Billing knew his tormented past. Would she feel differently when she woke?

He tucked her under the covers. Her body curled around itself and she slipped a hand under the pillow. He placed Zero at the end of the bed, where he padded in a circle and lay down. Cassandra’s foot burrowed under the dog’s warmth. How nice it must be to have such kinship. He called the crows his family, but they were transient, and he couldn’t begin to guess if they loved him or merely tolerated him.

A stray lock of feather-black hair drifted down her cheek toward the slope of her open mouth. He fixated on the concave curve of her lip. Without thinking, he smoothed the lock back in place, swiping his thumb over that elegant line.

He placed the ornate hair accessory on the nightstand beside her cellular device, then tore himself from her bedside and returned to the lab. The mutated strain was worse than he’d calculated. All but one of the tests was a failure, the final one still hanging in there. He duplicated it for more controls and tests.

For the rest of the night, he played the guitar, searching for the right song to serenade her with once he was competent on the instrument.

The more memories he collected with her, the harder it became to accept she would leave soon. It was a matter of time before they either failed or succeeded, and both meant she would leave his life, forever.