Chapter 13

Sam's body tensed to charge toward his target until a sound made him hesitate.

"Sam?"

He paused to listen again. The voice was hollow and seemed to come from far away.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

Someone was calling to him. He cocked his head, trying to determine its origin. Who would call to him, here in Aurelia? He was alone in this realm. He had always been. Who was here with him? Pushing past his urge to bolt toward the boy, he looked around.

Through his red haze of vengeance, he saw someone staring up at him, her brows knitted with concern. Her eyes were dazzling blue, her lips moist and pink. She was speaking, but he couldn't make out her words. She wasn't frightened of him and stood very close.

Why was she so near, Sam wondered. Females never came this close to him. Especially one so beautiful. Sam was about to tell her to run, to get away from him as quickly as she could and hide.

But then something cool touched his arm. She seemed to speak again. He felt the same sensation, but stronger, on the back of his hand. A delicious chill, like new snow. He leaned into the feeling, greedy for more. It bloomed gradually, creeping outwards from his arm into his chest, down to his stomach and legs. Its sharpness was crisp and clean.

He exhaled raggedly.

Lightness. The oppressive weight clawing at him suddenly lessened. The fury was cooling, the pull was easing, and the feelings of powerlessness, of being a slave to his nature dwindled.

It took him a moment before he remembered where he was. He was in Padu, but no crowds were watching him. No taunts or coins thrown at him. His feet were still planted where he stood, and he had not taken off through the market to inflict pain against his own will.

He had worked hard to control his impulses, but there were times when they simply spiraled beyond his control. And yet, for the first time in his life, he pulled himself back from the brink. He hadn't acted on his impulses at all, which meant there was no innocent blood on his hands.

A gentle breeze cooled the sweat dotting his forehead. He blinked as his vision returned to normal.

The beautiful female standing in front of him was Selene. Looking down, he saw her hand rested against his sleeve. Her other hand held his; her fingers curled gently around his tight fist. Skin to skin. With a rush of heat to his groin, he understood.

It was her. Like murk beetles scattering at a beam of light, Sam's need to hurt and punish had retreated. His mind cleared, and his will restored the moment Selene had touched him.

Sam"s furious need for vengeance was abruptly replaced by desire. Hot, heavy, and urgent. Blood pulsed in his loins and desire clouded his thoughts. Boldly, he took Selene's hand and covered it with his, holding her in place. Savoring the feel of her bare flesh against his. Waiting until whatever calming effect she seemed to provide dissolved every last drop of his violent flare.

Closer.

He needed more. More of her touch. Her attention. The relief she brought.

He wanted to tear off his sleeve, shirt, and everything he wore, to have her run her soft hand over every inch of his body. He wanted to lift her onto the stall's surface so he could press more of himself against her. To grind his cock against her soft heat. He imagined laying her down in the forest, all barriers shed between them, to cover her body with his. To touch her and make her understand the effect she had on him. To see if he could bring her a fraction of the pleasure she had bestowed upon him.

They stood there silently for a moment, her small hand pressed between his large palms. She stared back with wide eyes, seeming to understand something significant had occurred but not knowing exactly what.

"Are you all right?" she whispered.

He nodded, unwilling to speak for fear that the lust coursing through him would show in the rumble of his voice. Despite his fantasies, reality was beginning to set in.

"What happened?" she asked.

Swallowing, he tried to think of a plausible explanation. He glanced at the nearby bread ovens. "The heat… I… "

"Good sir, can I help you with anything for your flowing locks?" the Goblyn hair device seller asked cheerfully while twining a ribbon around his spindly fingers.

Sam shot him a glower that made all color drain from the Goblyn's weathered face. Sam reluctantly released Selene's hand and said, "No."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Selene said. "You were so tense and seemed a bit woozy."

Sam straightened his posture. "Whatever ‘woozy' is, I can assure you I do not suffer from it. Did you find what you needed?"

She held up a small bundle of thin leather ribbons. "Yep."

Sam paid for the items quickly, desperately wanting to leave Padu. The noise, the smell, the memories were all too much. He craved the quiet of the forest and the anonymity of darkness. He glanced up at the sky with unease. It was later than he anticipated. Sunset was imminent, and the vampires that frequented Padu were surely about to emerge.

"We need to leave this place," Sam said.

"Hmm? Oh yes. I'm finished. Thank you for letting us stop," she said. She seemed distracted after their strange interlude.

As he led her out of Padu, they ignored the vendors calling out offers of discounts and deals. The sky was growing darker, and Sam knew the switch pouch would expand soon with their dinner, but it would have to wait. He wanted more distance between Padu and their campsite.

They had nearly reached the last of Padu's stalls and were only steps away from the forest's embrace when their path was suddenly blocked. A petite figure in a red wool cloak stood in front of them, eerily motionless. Sam could tell by her bearing she was female, but a hood covered her face.

"Step aside," Sam said, but the obstacle didn't budge. He studied the stranger's slight build and the strands of black hair peeking out from beneath her hood. Then he caught a whiff of her perfume and froze. He knew that scent. The essence of violet water couldn't mask the odor of moldering flesh that hung in the air. The woman let out a creaky giggle.

Sam sighed. Had he really believed he could pass through Padu without anyone recognizing him?

"Margery," he said flatly.

The woman held up one finger, in a gesture that indicated wait. She remained motionless until the last sliver of sunlight was swallowed up by the horizon. Then, as if she were a stone statue gifted with life, she lifted her head to bare her face to the night.

Breathlessly she said, "Samael. You've come back."

Selene stood at Sam's side, wondering who or what this Margery person was. She was still reeling from the intense moment she and Sam had just shared at the hair stand, and having him stand so close wasn't helping her nerves. Selene squinted. Since they were in the darkest part of the market, she couldn't make out Margery's features. She could only see that she wore a lot of red—from the toe of her boots up to the hood of her cloak, like a demented Little Red Riding Hood.

"I haven't come back," Sam said. "We're leaving."

"So soon?" Margery made a disappointed sound, then gave Sam an appraising look. "You seem different. Less unhinged."

"And you haven't changed a bit."

"Naturally." She laughed, the sound as thin and sticky as a cobweb. "What brings you to Padu? Last I heard you were living like a beast in the forest."

"I have been serving the Malkina queen."

"The Malkina. Interesting choice."

"They have been good to me. Unlike others in this realm."

"You know it was all Julian's doing. I did what I had to just to survive," she said heatedly. "Come, let me show you my tent on the East row. People pay good money for my bite."

"Let us pass."

She sniffed the air, then focused on Selene. "Who's this?"

Unable to repress her Southern manners, Selene stretched out her hand to say, "Hi, it's nice to meet…" but the words faded as a nearby vendor lit a torch, fully illuminating the mysterious Margery.

At first glance, she was stunning. Glittering rubies dripped from her pale throat, perfectly matched to her cloak, dress, lipstick, and gloves. Her black hair was parted in the middle, with the ends brushing against a jeweled belt at her waist. Heavy eyeliner and thick eyelashes framed her eerie gray eyes. Yet the longer Selene looked at her, the more she realized there was something very wrong about her face. Something was wrong with everything.

Margery's cheekbones were bloated and misshapen, her lips absurdly puffy. Her eyebrows were painted on at an unnaturally high angle, and the skin around her eyes was pulled tight across her skull. And that wealth of thick black hair? Clearly a wig.

Selene thought it might be a trick of the light, but when Margery turned her face, the effect was worse. She looked like a gothic plastic surgery nightmare. Normally, Selene felt pity when she saw the extreme lengths some people went to appear beautiful, but Margery was simply terrifying. She wasn't Little Red Riding Hood at all—this was the Big Bad Wolf.

"A Nereid girl. Isn't she lovely?" Margery crooned at Selene. "Oddly dressed though. Have you ever heard of gowns, darling? Or are you in disguise as some sort of pauper?"

"Don't speak to her," Sam warned Margery.

"I don't take orders from anyone but me now," Margery shot back. One of her odd eyebrows rose even higher when she looked back at Selene. "Oh, little minnow, you smell delicious. What's that scent you're wearing?"

Some instinctual drive was urging Selene to run, that she was being sized up as prey.

"It"s soap you scent," Sam said quickly. "We visited a soap merchant,"

Margery smiled and the movement caused a crack to appear in the layers of pancake make-up she wore. A long, yellowed fang was revealed as Margery bit her lip hungrily, making Selene's body jerk.

Vampire.

This was it. She was real. A true predator and monster of legend, right in front of her. Except she didn't look anything like the glamorous lady vampires with porcelain skin and perfect bodies from the movies. The decay and corruption of Margery's flesh made it clear—she was one of the living dead.

Margery inhaled again. "There's something so familiar… you're sure it's just soap I scent?" she asked, her voice dropping.

Sam didn't respond to Margery's question with words. Instead, he took a step behind Selene and rested his warm palms on her shoulders. It was an undeniable gesture of possessiveness, a signal she was under his protection. Despite the terror of being ogled by a vampire, a rush of pleasure tingled through Selene at his touch.

"Don't worry, demon, I know I'm in your debt," Margery said irritably, flipping back her hair. "Though she certainly doesn't smell Nereid."

This made Selene uneasy. What would happen if she guessed she was human? But she reminded herself she was cloaked with a face full of glitter and had looked Nereid enough to have fooled the man who gave her a cockle shell. There was a beat of silence before Sam said, "I'm glad you're doing well for yourself."

Margery adjusted her velvet gloves. "Well, let's just say single life agrees with me. As does freedom, so thank you for that. There are more of us here from the wagons, did you know? Not only vampires—"

"I don't care." Sam interrupted. "Are you going to leave us now?"

Sighing, Margery said, "Yes, I suppose." Giving her cape a dramatic twirl, she turned to walk away. "Farewell Vengeance demon and… ," she looked pointedly at Selene. "You."

"Farewell, Margery," Sam said.