23. Caspian

CHAPTER 23

Caspian

I t is not in a vamryre's nature to feel guilt. Why should we? For we are superior beings, far beyond any mortal. To regret our strength and ruthlessness is to regret our very inception. Our creation.

I am a vamryre, and there is no one on this earth who can question that. Who should be able to make me question. Make me wonder. Make me think…

What if?

What if?

Damn her, for making me wonder what if. What if I could think like her? Forgive. Forget. Move through life sweetly, gazing at every single damn thing with wide-eyed wonder?

I cannot.

Even if I wanted to, I could not. No one should force such things upon me, for if they cannot deal with the mind of a predator, they cannot deal with me.

Yet, her mind is a paradise. I don't want to leave it so soon. Not yet. I cling to her thoughts, even now.

Damn her.

I seethe in frustration and irritation, yet she makes me cling to her. Prod her mind state. Test that pretty brain for any wayward thoughts. Any crack or crevice I may slip inside of.

I want to be in more than just her skin. I want to burrow into that tiny soul. I want her to feel me resonate in her from the inside out. I want to make her acknowledge my darkness. Internalize it.

Lo and behold, I am here to stay.

But she has no right to do the same to me. I am the one who saw her that day, flitting about her in her little tower. I decided to hunt her. Chase her. Claim her.

Me. She should belong only to me.

Yet, she is already staking her claim on bits of me that even Cassius never touched. I can feel her there, scratching and clawing at my insides. Warping me around her. Changing me to suit her needs.

There's a sick, twisted part of me that wants to be perfect for her. It covets the way she stares at me when in awe. When I surprise her in an unexpected way. Instead of seeing a monster in me, she sees a savior.

Yet, a monster is all I am.

All I will be.

The alternative would be to give in to Cassius's wishes for me. To stop resisting. Stop fighting. Be owned. Could I let her own me?

No.

Never.

I won't.

Even so, I can feel her grasping fingers. I can feel her marking me, nonetheless. I can't shake her grip as easily as I could Cassius.

I don't hate her in the same way.

Damn her.

Damn.

I want to shout at her. Seethe. Make her cower and feel shame. Something that proves she hasn't won. I am not a pet on her leash, she is mine.

I think about pinning her there, against the brick wall. Reminding her who and what I am.

I am Caspian, toy of Cassius. Monster. Murderer. Sadist.

I think about it.

I linger among boxes and crates instead. I move them all upstairs and out of the way. I stomp. Storm. I rage in silence.

I try to ignore her.

She hasn't come for me. The itch for me isn't as volatile as my itch for her. I crave to see her face. To see if I hurt her with my actions. If I did…

I should smile.

Laugh.

No. A part of me wants to stroke her hair instead.

So I stomp. Lift. Toss. Lift. Toss. Throw. A crate launches from my grip and slams into the wall, shattering to pieces. Objects fall out. More worthless crap and junk that Altaris has kept, hidden away to surround his empty mind with. I turn, aiming to leave them there.

A glimmer catches my eye. It is blue and round with a faint, weak glow. It is warm when I touch it. A slight vibration resonates from it into my palm. As though it is alive. Pulsating.

Then I remember: I've seen one before. Many, in fact, embedded in the wall of the underground tunnel.

A fae stone, Niamh called them. Magic to her. Fae magic. She would be shocked to see one here. Those black eyes might fall out of her skull. She would be happy, oh so happy. She would be pleased with me.

But I don't want nor need her pleasure. I need a reminder of what I am. What I stand to lose if I fail in my task and forget my true nature. Cassius will come crawling to me. He will seek to devour me.

I cannot become lost in a fae's black, doe eyes. I must remember who and what I am.

Caspian. A monster: nothing more, nothing less.

Monsters do not gripe and wallow. They do not crave happy, hopeful fae eyes.

I take the fae stone in my grasp and slip it into my pocket.

I will not tell her that I found it ever.

This bit of knowledge, I will hoard for myself alone.

Though, why Altaris had it?

That is a question for another time.