Chapter Three

Esmae didn't have time to react before the vampire attacked her.

Only… it didn't feel like any attack she'd ever faced before.

The vampire's lips were on her neck, his fangs piercing her skin. His scent surrounded her, smoke and sin wrapped in one. Her hands were pinned above her head, and it was a good thing, because if not, she may have fallen to her knees.

And then… sensation. Unlike anything she'd ever known.

Esmae was no maiden. She'd had her fair share of experience with Jared and before him. She wasn't a passive lover; she'd looked after her own pleasure .

The feelings the vampire unleashed on her were unlike anything she'd ever known. Heat exploded inside her, spindling from the source of contact into her chest where her heart pounded, then lower at her core, as though someone was set between her thighs about to feast.

Oh, fates . A gasp spilled from her against her will. It was all she could do to not purr against him like a cat in heat, begging for more. Her breaths grew ragged in a heartbeat. The vampire's grip shifted, the hold on her wrists tight but not painful, while his other hand cupped the back of her neck.

She could lose herself in the sensation.

It was to her shame that, when the vampire pulled away, it was because he'd had his fill—while she hadn't yet had hers. That same shame snuffed out her brewing desire, a chill skittering on her spine as the heat of the vampire's bite faded.

"You taste divine." His voice was low, guttural. Like how a male might sound after a rough roll in the hay. His tongue slowly rolled over the puncture in her neck, her pulse pounding beneath it .

The voice did as much damage to her as the bite had. Cheeks on fire, she snarled, "How dare you!"

If possible, the creature's eyes glowed even brighter. They weren't like normal eyes either, but rather a lizard's thin black slits cutting through the burning red. Because he'd just fed? Vampires didn't venture to her little town, one of the reasons her father discouraged her from ever leaving. All she knew was they had red eyes, drank blood, and despised witches.

But the vampire in front of her didn't look like he despised her at all.

No, he looked ravenous for seconds.

Which was, objectively, worse.

This close, she couldn't help but take in his features. The crimson eyes were unnatural, especially with the reptilian shape, yet they fit his face perfectly. Dark hair curled around his ears, reaching down to the nape of his neck. It would've looked boyish on anyone else; on the vampire, it made him roguish. As though he was a threat, not because he'd bite a woman—but because he'd lick her. The distracting thought was compounded by his lips, which were full and smirking. To add to the effect, there was nothing "boyish" about his body. The planes of muscle that had pressed against her proved he was a fit predator. Normally, Esmae was as tall as any man she came across, even when she wasn't in boots. The vampire was tall enough she had to tilt her chin back, exposing her throat, to meet his gaze.

And meet it she did. He could bite her, he could overpower her, but he damn certain wouldn't break her.

"I dare," the vampire murmured, "because you came onto my mountain. You practically gift-wrapped yourself to me, little witch. I can't be blamed for taking from what's mine."

Good sense would've had her cowering in the corner, begging for her life. Since her life was forfeit and good sense had never been counted among Esmae's other (limited) virtues, what came out of her mouth was, "You must be joking."

The vampire cocked his head, red eyes flaring just the slightest amount, as if he hadn't expected her to reply again .

But did he really just expect her to nod along with his insane proclamation?

"I am not," the vampire replied levelly. "Your blood is mine to take. You are mine."

It was drafty in the cave. That's why she shivered. Surely.

Three times, he'd said. Two more of those experiences. The way her body had felt under him… Could she survive it? Still, if he wasn't killing her, that meant she had a chance. She hadn't expected to face a vampire, so she'd only taken the old copper knife as a precaution. Her other weapons had been lost, but the copper was the only one that could hurt them. There'd be time between his feedings when she could try again.

All these thoughts swirled in her mind while she stared up at the vampire. His unnatural eyes bored back into her, like she was the most precious thing he'd ever seen, something he'd never let go of.

No one had ever looked at Esmae that way. Why was it she'd finally found a male who looked at her like she might be worthwhile, and she had to kill him? Fate was cruel.

"What's your name, my lovely witch? "

She'd tell him nothing. She tried to push past, but he held her easily against the stone, capturing her without actually hurting her.

The vampire sighed like she was being difficult.

"Tell me your name," he commanded.

She tried to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from answering, but just as before, the compulsion rolled through her body. Vampires could enthrall witches who lacked magical defenses—like Esmae. Against her will, her lips parted and she said, "Esmae Mellodi."

"Esmae," he repeated, trying out the word.

Does he like it?

The stupid thought came unbidden. She quashed it in an instant. Whether the vampire that captured her, drank her blood, and thwarted her attempt to end her curse liked her name was, quite literally, the least of her concerns.

"I am Silas Obsidian-Claw," he replied, as if they were meeting in any other circumstances where an introduction might be warranted.

"Lovely," she drawled, sarcasm thick on her tongue.

"I'm delighted you think so. "

Gods, the vampire actually managed to sound sincere!

"Now that we know each other's names and you've assaulted me, perhaps you could let me go, vampire?" she snapped, deliberately avoiding his name.

The vampire stilled, a preternatural stillness. Then, as suddenly as he'd been on her, he let her go, stepping back.

"You will not leave these caves."

Once again, the thrall overpowered her. Like with the first command not to stab him again, it wasn't so much that it forced her to do something as much as her body wouldn't act in a way that disobeyed him.

She couldn't leave? Couldn't stab him? Fine.

She took a step forward and kicked him squarely in the shin.

The vampire balked, slightly, as if more surprised than hurt. The same couldn't be said for Esmae, who was left clutching her foot, which hurt terribly even in the boot.

Once more, the vampire was on her. "Are you injured?" he demanded. "Why would you do such a thing?"

She glared up at him, ignoring the first question. "Because you deserve it for keeping me here! "

Something changed on the vampire's face. "Then attack me in another way, Esmae. I'd be a fool to let you go, and if this is the price for that, so be it. Your ire, I can bear. Your pain, I cannot."

She refused to ponder the intensity of his words. Rather, she was sorely tempted to take him up on that offer and ignore everything after that, but aside from the copper knife, nothing else could truly hurt a vampire.

"You really just plan to keep me captive and drink my blood?"

"Oh Esmae. I plan to do much more than that."

More started with showing her the rest of the vampire's dwellings in the Condemned Cliffs. When she'd tried to refuse, he'd compelled her again. It grated. Worse than being ordered around like some dog—at least a dog could refuse! But, she reasoned, seeing more of her prison could work in her favor. She had nothing to lose, anyway .

Plus, she was curious. Though she'd woken in a makeshift bed—perhaps he'd been worried about moving her too much?—it was obvious the vampire had access to some finer resources. Blazing torches lined the pathway, and with their light, she could see the fine embellishment on the vampire's clothing. It wasn't like the styles she was used to seeing in the village, not even on the merchants at the nearby marketplace. A variety of gold jewelry accented his features: rings, an armband, even an ear ornament that didn't pierce the skin.

Esmae had always dreamed of traveling, seeing other cities and even continents beyond Eurobis. What she lacked in her own ability to travel, she'd tried to compensate by chasing down the rare traveler for details of the world beyond her small little village. It was one of the things that had attracted her to Jared—as the mayor's son, he'd traveled a relatively large amount compared to their peers, and she loved hearing about it, even if for Jared, most recollections of travel boiled down to how pretty the women were and how short the skirts in fashion were.

She sighed, the memory weighing her down .

"You must be tired," the vampire—she tried to avoid thinking of him as Silas—said, misunderstanding her thoughts. "I'll carry you."

Before she could get her protest out, he had scooped under her legs and lifted her from the ground so she was nestled against his chest. The silk of his shirt caressed her face, his body heat surprising her. She'd always heard vampires were cold-blooded, but her vampire's chest was warm.

Her vampire. Gods, one pretty face, and she was laying claim to the beast that had captured her.

"I can walk." It was hard to make a strong protest while he tenderly held her in his arms.

"You can walk slowly," he agreed, her pride bristling from his condescending tone. "You're still healing, however. I don't want you to injure yourself."

He said it so simply. He saved her because it pleased him. She could strike him, but not if it would hurt her . He didn't want her to injure herself. For a vicious beast who killed any who entered the Condemned Cliffs he haunted, he was acting more concerned than the average nursemaid .

When she'd broken up with Jared, he'd accused her of having a heart of ice. How could she argue it? They'd been together six months, and she still enjoyed her time by herself more than her time with him, his pretty words always feeling too rehearsed to warrant a reaction. Yet when the vampire said this, mortal enemy to her species, her supposedly frozen heart beat a bit faster.

"What is all this?" she said with a gasp before she could stop herself when Silas finally stopped at the threshold of a massive cavern.

The space was bathed in gold. Thick veins of glittering metal spindled across the cavern, with piles of gold covering the floor. Not just coins or lumps, but ornately carved furniture, jewelry, and even cutlery. The riches were more than that, the piles punctuated with precious stones that twinkled in the firelight. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds, opals.

"This," Silas said with no small amount of pride, "is our home."

He set her down, albeit reluctantly, and as if in a daze, Esmae wandered farther in. Her fingers grazed the different piles, the metal cold beneath the tips of her fingers. Any one of them would be more money than she could earn in a lifetime of half-hearted weaving.

Something in the distance caught her eye. Her steps sped up as her heart pounded. It wasn't just material wealth the vampire had hoarded. He had something that, to Esmae, was even more precious than all the jewels in the room.

Sprawled out on a large table was an open parchment the size of a pony.

"It's Eurobis," she breathed.

On the scroll, the eastern border was familiar to her, the sharp, dark cliffs characteristic of the small papers Jared and other merchants used to guide them. This was something much grander, a sprawling depiction. More complete than she'd ever seen, with hundreds of tiny towns dotted and labeled. And not just the Witch Kingdom, but the vampire ones, too. The map was a work of art, with ornaments in the corners, and sea monsters rising from rivers.

"You like the map?" Silas asked over her shoulder .

She didn't even have it in herself to snap, too overcome. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

His voice took on a curious tone. "You grew up without mirrors?"

She snorted softly, still focused on the map. Something like this would be worth a fortune. To her, who had never even seen their country in full, who had never ventured any meaningful distance no matter how she'd wanted to—who would never get the chance if the curse defeated her—this was priceless.

She must have looked at it for at least ten minutes, resisting the urge to trace her fingers over the parchment lest she smudge any part of it.

"You enjoy cartography?"

"I always wanted to travel," Esmae confessed. "I wanted to see the entire continent. Something like this would never be found in my home village."

"There are more," he said mildly, gesturing to a bin beside the table that held a dozen scrolls of varying sizes.

She reached for one and frowned as she unrolled it.

"Where is this? "

The shape of the land was unfamiliar, narrow and tall, with flat plains and a ridge of mountains in the west.

"Wyrdova," Silas explained. "It's a continent some distance across the sea."

Her gaze snapped from the map in her hands to Silas.

"How do you have this?" The Witch Kingdom was surrounded on four sides; travel beyond the borders was impossible.

"I inked it myself."

She blinked in surprise. He hadn't simply purchased the map, but drawn it? She looked back at the table—it wasn't a place for displaying maps, but for creating them. Now that she looked away from the map, she saw the telltale tools—quills of various thicknesses, straightedges, a compass. If he'd made it, then that meant he'd been to these places. Not just places a few days' journey into the Witch Kingdom, but far beyond, places she hadn't even conceived of. And he said it so casually!

"Tell me about Wyrdova," she demanded. Her cheeks flushed as she realized how rude she sounded, but still— "You drank my blood. It's the least you can do. "

Silas grinned. "No need to barter, Esmae. I'd tell you anything you like if it pleases you. Come, sit with me."

He led her over to a small table—gold, of course—and a small chaise.

There were no chairs in the immediate vicinity. Because the vampire didn't need multiple chairs, or because he'd picked a spot where she'd be forced to sit by him?

With his propensity for touching her and staying close, she'd bet on the latter. But she went along with it, because it was her chance to learn more about the world. She sat on the edge of the chaise and laid the map out for them to see.

Silas sat next to her, his legs sprawled so their knees touched. His arm laid on the back of the seat, behind her shoulders.

Stubbornly, she leaned forward to avoid his touch. The vampire didn't press, making her think she had survived this round. Until she flicked her gaze up at him and saw he was staring down—where her blouse revealed the generous swell of her chest as she leaned over the map .

She narrowed her gaze at him. The vampire didn't even look chagrined to have been caught.

Fine. She leaned back, his fingers just grazing her shoulder. She could bear the contact if it meant he would tell her about more of the world. Rather, she could pretend it was a burden to bear. Silas smiled down at her, as if he could see the internal debate playing out on her face. When it was obvious she'd stay, he spoke.

"Tell me, little witch. What would you like to know?"