Dinner With a Vampire (The Dark Heroine #1)(73)
Author: Abigail Gibbs

He was propped against the counter, casually surveying me as he had done the very first time we locked gazes in Trafalgar Square. I should have felt fear then, yet I felt lust. My heart had beat for two, just as it did now. I wanted to move, but my muscles refused, itching and stiff but frozen. I was trapped under his spell, prey in his eyes, gripping the doorframe for dear life as my legs turned to jelly.

Nothing had changed. I might have thought I knew him better, known every etched scar below his left ear, known his every emotion just from the colour of his eyes, but I didn’t. I knew no more than I had done that first night. I knew the truth now; I knew what he was, but I did not know him. Hundreds of stolen glances I didn’t even realize I had taken had taught me about his species, not him. But now I longed to. I longed to know him … and that was why I stayed. This predator had caught me from the very beginning.

I’m his now. I’m giving myself to him.

A burst of laughter spilled from my lips as I registered what I was thinking. What on Earth would my (feminist) citizenship teacher think about that?

He shook his head, a bemused smile forming at my ill-timed outburst. ‘What?’

‘I just … when I said I give in to you, I meant I’m giving into my desires.’

He nodded, thoughtfully, as though picking that sentence to pieces.

Giving into your desires is a sin, you know. Still think you have made the right choice? my voice hissed in my mind, in the sinister tone it reserved for when it knew it could plant doubt in my mind.

Suddenly, the lights flickered and my treacherous voice was veiled in shadows. The break of eye contact with Kaspar and the realization that all I could see in the darkness were two bright, blazing red orbs, returned feeling to my legs and I turned and fled down the corridor, the torches that lit this part of the mansion snuffing out, dead, as I heard his frenzied pursuit of me. I burst into the living room, padding across the carpet and dodging the pearly white sofas. Slipping into the entrance hall I stumbled back, marvelling at how quiet the place was, even quieter than usual, and that was saying something considering clocks could be heard chiming from the other side of the mansion in the silence. There were no Varns and none of the servants seemed to be around. The single butler who had startled as I entered bowed low, before disappearing into a side passage.

They weren’t ignorant to the goings on of the royal family.

I whirled around, still backing away, feet squeaking on the marble floor. Vases, expensive-looking and delicate, held glass flowers, folded from the torch light; a small porcelain cupid perched on one leg beside a snowy vase, a silver plate engraved in Latin beside that. All these objects were familiar to me, yet I was so much more aware of everything … everything new and afresh, sending a giddy excitement through my stomach. What settled that stomach, however, was what should not be there: a magazine was slung across one of the marble-topped tables, the pages open to reveal the glossy orange petals of a Georgia O’Keeffe painting. Carelessly misplaced, it would usually be whisked away by a passing maid. Not tonight.

I didn’t allow my eyes to linger on the magazine and instead caught sight of my reflection in the silverware. My cheeks were flushed, rosy and pink, and I could see my chest rapidly rising and falling, matching my shallow breaths. My eyes were even brighter than usual, glittering and moist and alive, but the thick eyeliner that rimmed them was beginning to slip, sinking my sockets and giving me the dark circled look of … I quickly rubbed it away. The long, loose top I was wearing too had slipped off my shoulders, exposing the top of my flimsy bra. I raised my arm to cover it, but was cut short by his sharp voice: an order, brutal in tone, but a voice I knew just well enough to discern that it was not a command but an invitation; a rough wooing.

‘No. Leave it.’

I jerked my head up to see him leaning against the closed door (which I never heard close), silently surveying through those same eyes that made me blush. His arms were crossed against his chest, and even from here I could see his nostrils flaring … as they always did when he was angry. Or aroused.

‘How do you do it?’ he asked bluntly.

I turned away, walking slowly past the staircase and absent-mindedly admiring the marble of the walls. The click of my ankle boots echoed in the silence, the only sound, save for my breathing.

‘Do what?’

He did not answer for a while, but I could feel his stare on my back.

‘Enchant us. Every male vampire … we all lust over you. Me, Fabian—’

‘Ilta,’ I added quietly, looking over my shoulder to gage his reaction. He nodded his head gravely.

‘You’re a human, a dhampir. This desire shouldn’t be so powerful. Fabian shouldn’t have fallen for you and Ilta …’ He trailed off, not finishing his sentence for which I was grateful. But then, quietly, so quietly I guessed I was not supposed to hear, he added, ‘It shouldn’t drive me to this.’

My blush deepened. I carried on, pretending not to hear. Trailing my fingertips across the table that held the vase, I searched for the dust that was not there.

‘P-perhaps it’s because I’m not like any other vampire girl you’ve met. Your wealth and status means nothing to me.’ My finger brushed the marble walls, veined in black. ‘I don’t look on you and Fabian as a Prince and a Lord. I treat you no differently and I don’t try like those whores you have.’ Thoughts of Charity entered my mind, and obviously his as I snuck a look at him just to see him turn his head away.

‘Unlike the girls of this Kingdom, I want nothing from you but respect.’ I spun around to face him. ‘And I know I’m not like any other human you’ve met. I don’t fall for your seductions, at least not unless I choose to and I can, and have, said no to you.’ I forced my gaze to remain steady in my bold lie. I hadn’t resisted. Not when Ilta had charmed me, not when Fabian had kissed me, and not earlier in the car with Kaspar. ‘And any man, human or vampire or otherwise, will always want what he can’t get.’

In the blink of an eye, maybe quicker, he was there. His arms came to a rest either side of my head, palms flat to the wall, his hands large enough to wrap around my neck, strong enough to snap it in a heartbeat. My breathing hitched but I didn’t even try to hide it. Just the thought of seeing such a creature … knowing, such a creature … God, he’s sexy. Dark, perverse …

Somewhere deep within my mind I registered this wasn’t right. This wasn’t what I should think about him. Yet his eyes narrowed, like he knew my thoughts and was daring me to think otherwise; I sucked in another breath to remain upright and I would sigh from longing, if I had any breath left to. But no, he had stolen that too, along with my heart and resolve.