5. Caspian

CHAPTER 5

Caspian

I n comparison to Cassius, she is a more demanding master. He would issue his commands. Expect that they be followed. What I wanted or needed never factored into the equation. His will superseded all.

It's different with her.

The wants and needs she has are fleeting, but persistent. Rather than dwelling on them, she avoids them. Her neglected desires flit across her mind like a caged bird with two broken wings. It takes another person to rescue the poor creature.

My frustration with her comes from that; she makes me want to serve her. Want to keep her happy and smiling. Seeing her makes me want to repair those sad little dreams.

Not so that I can break them later, as I should. As I should .

I want to make them whole because of her. To please her. Keep her.

Cassius' rage could be enjoyed if I failed him.

I fail her, and the tears fall. I'd rather rip out my fucking eyes than see her tears fall.

I will collect those broken little dreams of hers. For now, I will fulfill them, if only to plot and scheme how to use her gratitude for my benefit. That is how I will punish her.

Her desire for me will outweigh mine.

Taking her hand in mine, I embrace her. I help her put on those silly shoes she wears to protect her feet from the elements outside. Then I step with her out into the sun.

And once again, she confounds me. Her hand frees itself from mine and she steps forward, skin glowing, eyes so damn wide. When she throws her head back, her dark hair spills untamed down her back.

I blink. I've never seen a fae fly. Never cared to. As they lorded over us all with their magic, they jealously guarded their secrets. As if, with just one glance, they could lose all their specialness. Vamryre are not so daunted by our power. Our skills are the embodiment of what we were.

What I was. A superior race of being, united by a collective mind, containing more knowledge within our skulls than the fae could ever amass--or so the lie went. Perhaps Nataniel and Pol upheld that lofty ideal. Not Cassius.

It is rumored, however, that fae wings are thin, glistening things that sparkle and hold their slender bodies aloft with little effort. The ability to fly is what makes them stand out. It is their sole advantage on a battlefield, more powerful than even their fae magic.

Watching a fae fly is said to be a horrible, woeful experience.

Lies. She is terrible and woeful while standing on two feet, with the sun gleaming off her hair and her lips stretched wide. Her laughter guts me. I remember what it feels like to have a beating heart in my chest when I see her smile. How it can ache at the slightest damn provocation. How it can rebel against its owner's wishes and crave things. Long for them.

I see her and I long to make her smile last as long as I fucking can.

I crave to make her laughter ring on the air for all eternity.

In that empty place where my mortal heart once sat, she seeps into my soul.

She is poisoning me through and through.

I would gladly spurn any antidote.

"Where are we going?" She spins around, her arms outstretched, pink lips spread taut to reveal white teeth beneath. "It isn't dark yet, so…"

She trails off, her unease apparent. To sneak back through the portal, the cover of darkness is needed. For now, there is daylight to waste. Time to stall.

"Where do you want to go?" I ask her.

A tilt of her head indicates she is thinking, but her thoughts are clouded to me--not that she tries to hide them. Even in her skull, she smothers and tucks away that which she yearns for most.

Finally, she shrugs. "Anywhere."

She reaches for me.

I take her hand.

I will lead her anywhere.