Chapter Eleven

Days passed, and still, Silas was no closer to winning over his mate.

He'd tried everything. While she slumbered, he went farther and farther, seeking out any food that might appeal to her or trinkets she might enjoy. He'd brought her a globe of her own (though, really, anything in his hoard was hers by right, as well). A golden compass inlaid with rubies that matched the red of her hair. Books, paintings, and even a harp that was enchanted to play the latest tunes.

It wasn't that he'd made no progress. She spoke to him readily. They spent much of their days together, until she grew conflicted and asked to be by herself, which he honored. However much he'd have preferred to argue and demand they talk it through, he sensed she was not a creature that could be forced. Before that point came, though, they would talk about everything and nothing. Silas hadn't exchanged so many words with an individual in hundreds of years, and yet, it came naturally. He liked to tell her about the places he'd been and debate with her on philosophical matters. And he adored it when he finally coaxed some details of her life from her lips. Each one was more precious than all the gold in his possession.

Sometimes they argued. About the thrall. He'd made her a bet he could get her to agree she enjoyed it at times, and the victory had been… well, delightful was too mild a word. Never let it be said he wasn't competitive.

But still, something was missing. How could he overcome her resistance? Once she loved him, he could release her from all the compulsions. They could explore the world together. He'd lay all of Eurobis at her feet if she wished, and if that didn't suffice, then the rest of the world beyond. If he had his other form, then he could take her to some far-off land and show off his knowledge of some foreign culture while spoiling her with the finest the land had to offer. But flames damn him, he was limited to just two legs for the time being.

"Do you just watch me while I sleep?" Esmae yawned, stretching her arms above her head.

He'd taken to lying in bed with her, under the pretext of keeping her honest about their rules. In truth, it was because he would spend every waking moment drinking in her looks if he could. Her hair was disheveled from sleep, her eyes half closed as she slid her gaze to him, the nightgown he'd gifted her in disarray.

She'd never been more lovely.

"I watch you. I ponder things." As a vampire, he had little need for sleep. He could go days without, but even if he was lazy, a couple of hours each day was more than sufficient. Maybe a little more because he had limited his blood drinking. Now that he'd tasted Esmae, the thought of taking any other blood was repulsive. Yet if he drank too often, he'd have to let her go before she had cleaved to him.

"Mmm," she mumbled, nestling into the covers.

"You like the bed?"

"It's the best one I've ever been in. "

He'd sensed as much, but he did like to hear when he was successful in pleasing her.

"And you like me in it?"

"Don't push it." But a smile played on her lips, which he took to mean Yes, Silas, I do .

He would win her. He couldn't lose faith in that. And now he had an idea.