1. Caspian

CHAPTER 1

Caspian

I hold the limp body of a fae in my arms, having drained her dry. My Niamh. So sweet. So innocent.

She trusted her tender throat to me--a mistake that should be her last.

I'd heard rumors of the potent benefits of fae blood; a taboo delicacy that even Cassius--a lover of sin and debauchery--refused to let me partake in. I understand now why he was cautious.

Her taste is sinful. In every swallow, I find harmony in both body and mind that quiets the chaos and destruction left in the wake of my old master.

Unlike his, her thoughts don't consume mine. She doesn't aim to claim me. Control. Corrupt me in her image.

Staying within her pretty little trappings takes effort. Care. For I desire to be caged. There's no need to fight for the first time in decades - or centuries, I can't remember.

Like tissue paper, her will is soft and quivering. As fragile as her delicate skin is. Niamh. My Niamh. All mine.

I tell her as much, pressing my lips to her throat. Then I lick the healing mark there: two delicate little dots still weeping beautiful, luxurious crimson.

"I've tasted you," I say gruffly. "I stopped. Don't know why."

The fact that she breathes at all is a mystery. Cassius believed fae blood to be dangerously addictive. One drop alone should have aroused a mindless bloodlust. Yet another one of his many lies, it seems. Though… If I had the choice between a hoard of mortals to feed from and another drop of her blood, I would pick hers in a heartbeat. No question.

"Is that bad?" she whispers in return, those dark eyes wide and soulful. Still full of life.

"No. I still want you," I tell her.

A lie. Can't want what I already have. In every way that matters she is mine.

Yet, she isn't.

That is her one flaw. I can't mark her the way Cassius did me. Words alone aren't enough.

I want to stay.

"I need you." She clings to me, her voice a whisper, her thoughts hesitant. "I missed you. So much."

Missed me. For all the days that I sat brainless and empty. She waited for me. Pined for me. Needed me.

My hand traces a path up her ribcage, finding that quivering, thumping mass, trapped beneath layers of pink fabric and pale skin. Her heart. It yearns for me, thumping so loudly I could dance to the tune. Perhaps, I will. Slowly, I peel away the flimsy material glimpsing the flesh beneath.

A good fae would run from me.

She, instead, shudders. Her reaction to me is damn near instant. Desire erupts in our collective mind, but I can't determine who it belongs to. Only that it scorches like a stoked flame, hungry for a catalyst. Embers to feed it. Warmth to leech from.

More.

As my gaze falls on her mouth, she laces her fingers around my neck before I can claim it. Our lips meet. Then tongues. Fuck, the taste of her…

Can't get enough. Never need enough. She is an addiction I'll gladly suffer for twice as long as Cassius. An eternity, if that is what it takes to become sated.

If she survives that long. The male fae is coming for her. I can feel him, scratching and crawling on the outskirts of her skull. There are others who hunt her as well.

However, she seems unaware of the danger. In her mind, I only see and feel me. Longing for my touch. My skin on hers.

Good.

If it means she can't focus on anything else, I'll give her everything. I'm her world in this moment, and it feels so damn good. Too good.

I enjoy observing her frantic gasps when I finally pull down her dress and reveal her naked body underneath. Although she's frail, she has a beauty I cannot deny. It makes me drop to my knees, reach around to cup her delicate ass against the palms of both hands. With my head bowed, I press my forehead against her thin, trembling stomach. I inhale her scent. Breathe her in deep.

"Tell me I'm yours," I say. Command.

More wrong words— say you're mine , I should have demanded—but they ring true when heard out loud. A plea. Desperation personified.

"Say it."

"I'm yours," she says instead, working those slim fingers through my hair, parting the strands, grazing my scalp with greedy, grasping touches. I'm greedy for her--a hunger far beyond my lust for blood.

Though I didn't drain her dry, I can still taste her on my tongue. Sweet. Delicate. Until now, I have never had the chance to savor my prey's blood. Just one bite was all I took. Having tasted her, she then did the same, licking up my blood like a sweet treat. It has already healed and transformed her gaunt frame. My hands slide around to her front, tickling the inside of a pale, white thigh thrumming with warmth.

A low sound trickles from her mouth, but I don't need her to say a word. I'm in her head already. I know what she wants.

More.

I drive the tip of a finger inside her, and she still wants more. The need she feels ripples through my skin. I'm electrified by her heat. It stimulates this dead body more than gallons upon gallons of blood ever could. I add another finger beside the first and hear her whimper. Moan. Music to these damned ears.

The feel of her… One touch spurs on a hunger that somehow aches worse than being crushed under Cassius's thumb. I would have killed myself rather than be touched by him. Be near him.

Yet, my only goal now is to touch her as much as possible. To feel this body shiver in response to me. Ache for me. To hear that trembling mouth beg for me.

"Caspian…"

Despite being a balm to my soul, her voice is a dangerous melody. A taste of it is never enough.

"More," I rasp into the flesh of her belly. I will always need more.

And she is so eager to give it to me. Another gasp of my name as I stroke her from the inside out. More searing heat to greet the next searching plunge inside of her. My name again. A thready gasp again. Over and over until her nails threaten to pierce my skull and her head flies back, body bowed.

She is now more beautiful to me than any damn painting she could desire. Her pleasure alone is rich enough to paint with. I slide my fingers from her, glistening with her essence. I stroke one along her skin.

There. That glistening strip is more appealing to me than blotches on canvas.

"A masterpiece," I tell her, laughing at her sharp intake of air. "Shall I tell you what I see here, little Niamh?"

In this ivory skin, I see myself reflected. When I look into her ebony eyes, I see heaven. In my hands, I hold her world. While I draw mindless patterns into her skin, I have her full attention. My desire is written on her body with these grazing nails and probing fingertips.

It's a tragedy, this artwork of ours.

A beautiful damn tragedy.

Nevertheless, I will endure every minute. Pushing her into a wall, I drag her down to me and endure her. Hard, with a thrust that takes her breath away. Harder still as her body envelopes me in a molten fist. Then deeper still. So deep that I can feel me through her.

Her awe.

Her greedy need.

Her hunger for more.

I take her and take her. Even when she cries out my name and I spill my seed inside of her, I barely let her breathe before hardening again. Thrusting inside her. Hearing my name rip from that throat.

Damn Cassius to hell, but he was worth it.

To feel this sin in his place, any torture was worth it.

But for how long?

How long?

Even now, others pound on the door of our figurative minds, howling to be let in.

Don't want to. I bury my mouth against her shoulder to shut them out. Ignore. Ignore.

"Caspian." Her hand cradles my cheek, her tone worried. "Someone's… Someone's here."

A real-life intruder, then. They knock on the door of this hovel, hesitant and unsure. Not the male fae. He would barge in and claim her.

So, who?

"He betrayed us," she says, her voice thready, eyes blazing. "Altaris?—"

"He didn't," I snap. Don't know how I know that. Then I smell it. Hear it. An unfamiliar yet familiar smell. Frantic, unsteady breaths coming from behind a metal door.

Not human. Something else. Not a threat, either. Their mousy scent reeks of unease and fear. Altaris sent them, but he scared them well.

I look down at my fae as she reaches for her dress.

"No." I want her naked. I want her to wait for me. I'm not done being inside that body. I'm not done with her peace. "Stay here."

Before she can reply, I have my clothing on. I cross the wide space—this looming building Altaris sent us to. It's old and abandoned. The air reeks of mildew and musk, but there is plumbing. Electricity. Appliances. Those things mortals crave and need.

Things she needs. There is also food for her in a metal case in the corner. Heat to warm her trickling in through looming vents overhead.

And there is a heavy metal door to provide her protection. I wrench it open. Stare down the figure on the other side.

A man, with dark hair and a scar across his right cheek. His brown eyes are watery and bloodshot. His breath smells of alcohol, but he isn't drunk. For now.

As soon as he can slither away to some corner, he will be.

"Hey," he says, his frown wary. "The name's Daven. Uh, Daven Wick. I'm ah, Colleen's dad."

The name of the mortal with the strange healing magic. This man is her sire. Don't care. I can sense my fae, moving despite my objections. Tugging on her dress.

No. I begin to turn toward her. A tendril of her thoughts reaches out to me then like a trembling finger. So damn hesitant. Gentle. I feel her penetrate my skull and make herself at home. In response, I decide that killing this man would solve nothing.

She's curious of him. Because of Colleen; the smiling blonde with the leather case. She likes her. Aims to appease her.

"Um, Altaris sent me over to check out the…" The man trails off as his eyes widen. "Holy shit." His hand flutters across his face as though the motion might adjust his vision. It's a ghost he sees behind me. Some horrific figure from a long, long memory. In a trembling voice, he says the name of this horrifying specter, "Aurelia."

Not a name. One of the houses of fae. Her house.

Yet he does not mean to refer to her as one of many. No. There is a specific woman in mind. A specific creature whom he sees in her black eyes.

He blinks. Shakes his head to clear it. Places his face in the palm of his hand. Through gaps in his fingers, he eyes her. He stares at her for so long she's forced to clear her throat, inching toward me.

"I… I'm not," she says gently, her tone pained. The same pain in her voice that I recall from those days sitting empty in that room.

"Bloody hell. I'm sorry," the man says, letting his hand fall. "I'm Daven Wick at your service." He extends his hand for her to take.

I step in front of her before she can.

There is something wrong about this mundane. A stench beneath the booze. Beneath the shock and alarm at the sight of Niamh. A darkness shrouds him, barely visible in his gaze, but there none the less.

Like a vamryre trapped in the hive mind of our masters, he too belongs to another creature. Several perhaps. They yank his leash and keep him chained, only to be used for their ends. Not Altaris. The vamryre is too lazy to exert his will on a mortal.

Others. Powerful ones.

Through him, they seek to achieve an aim. What it is? I don't know, but it has to do with her. My fae. They want her for themselves.

"I, uh, well Altaris sent me over to check on you two. Make sure you found the place ok?—"

"Lie," I snap. "Spit out the truth mortal or I will send you to Altaris without a head."

A fair exchange for wasted time. Time I could spend with her. Near her. In her.

Time to try to reclaim what I've lost. Thoughts. Memories. Humanity perhaps. If only to satisfy my curiosity. If only to prove that Cassius isn't the only one with answers.

"Altaris wanted me to see her for myself," the mortal says, cutting to the point. He is a smart one, recognizing a threat when he hears it. Yet he isn't afraid. Beneath the air of booze and exhaustion and sadness is confidence. He is protected by his unseen brethren.

He trusts in them completely. Safe in their web he fears nothing.

Not even me.

"Explain," I demand.

He sighs. "It's nothing... I'm sorry by the way—" He looks over my shoulder. "I don't mean to be rude, talking over you like you don't exist."

I don't even need to see her face to sense her shock and alarm. Her awe. Her entire life has been spent being ignored. Overlooked. Neglected.

Interest by anyone thrills and shocks her. Unsettles.

I take a step closer, toward the man. Watch him swallow. Ah, now he is afraid.

Good.

"I'm not going to hurt you two, if that's what you're worried about," he says. "Altaris just wanted me to swing by and drop some things off. Food and the like. And he wanted me to ask you if you've read his book."

The fae nods, her breath against my shoulder. She's inched closer, seeking out my hand, entwining our fingers. A useless gesture.

One I return with an even harder grip.

Lines are being drawn. Claims are being staked. Somewhere, unseen figures are plotting and scheming. They want her badly. Badly enough to coddle us both and ply us with lies to keep us still.

All to better rope us in their snare. Just like fucking Cassius.

"Say what you want," I spit.

The mortal raises an eyebrow. Doesn't even flinch. "Nothing. Yet. But Altaris is transactional. I'm sure that, as a vamryer, you know that better than anyone. He'll help you both for a price. I wouldn't tout his expertise, but in your case, you will need it. He is the only one powerful enough to shield you on the outside. My bet is that they have half of the Citadel out looking for you."

Because of a bounty. Because of Cassius. Because of the supposedly dead male fae who lurks and lingers in the distance.

Too many mysteries to solve. Too many crises I don't give a damn about fixing.

I only want her. Need her. I'll keep her, no matter the risk.

I dare anyone to come and take her.

"Aurelia. Night Aurelia," Niamh says, her voice furtive. Soothing on the soul. The anger in me quiets down. How the hell is that possible? Her nearness makes anything a reality. "You've met her?" Her eyes are on the mortal man, and they widen as he nods.

"You could say that," he admits, his mouth twisted into a frown. "But that's a story for another time. It's getting late. I'll unload the truck, show you guys around the place. I'll be out of town for the next few days on an…um, business trip, but when I get back, we can have a chat. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Which is everything. Her hunger for knowledge suits her like bloodlust does a vamryre, but it's just as volatile. She'll seek out answers to her own detriment. To her own destruction.

The answers glinting behind this human's eyes won't soothe her. If anything, they'll serve to torment her more.

But I want to know. Her thoughts are fleeting and quick. It's like she's afraid to voice it even in her own skull. Her own will has been beaten down by stupid fae rules and expectations.

Damn her.

"Fine," I say.

"I just got to get the crap from my truck. I'll be right back."

I watch the mortal leave, only to creep inside minutes later. A black bag is slung over one shoulder. It rustles with all matter of objects. Some food, as he claimed. Others…

Not.

"Altaris wanted me to bring a few other things as well." He shrugs as though in a nonchalant manner. As though his mind isn't busy with unease and regrets. As though he isn't still staring at my fae as though he knew her in another life. Or her mother, this Aurelia.

"Col also sent some clothes for the lady, and I added some of my old things as well." He sets the bag down. Opens it and withdraws a handful of items one by one. Neat piles of clothing. Bags of food. A dangerous book.

When she sees the cover of it, the fae goes silent. Pale. Those black eyes darken to an unnatural hue. It scares her, whatever knowledge is contained within that black cover.

She hates it.

Altaris knew. He sent it along as a reminder, meant to trigger some secret looming between them.

That she is not fae. Not a pure, special creature she spent her entire life admiring.

No, she is something else.

A corrupted, unknowable thing.

Mine alone.