Broken (The Captive #5.5)(20)
She looked up at him from under her inky black lashes and gave him a half smile. "Don't worry I'll make sure that The Council knows we've moved."
He knew that the village vampires were allowed to move about freely but they had to report their destination before they left, and they had to check into their new location as soon as they arrived so that the King, and now The Council, could keep track of them in order to collect taxes and enforce the laws. There were always some vampires that tried to slip through the cracks and went missing every year, but if a vampire turned up where there weren't supposed to be, or was unregistered in their area, they were put to death with no questions asked.
Their world was governed with an iron fist; it had to be in order to keep chaos from ruling. If they slipped, even a little, their existence could be revealed to the human masses. Humans were already far too superstitious, the last thing the vampire community needed was for them to realize they weren't at the top of the food chain. Panic would descend upon the world if that ever happened; there was no telling how many deaths would result, human and vampire alike. They may be vastly superior in strength and speed than a human but they were also outnumbered by them by at least ten to one.
"That's good to know." His fingers slid from her hand and over the sleeves of her chemise. He froze when he spotted the faded bruise marring the skin at her wrist; he pushed the sleeve further up to reveal the purplish mark that spread all the way to her elbow. She grabbed hold of the sleeve and pulled it down before he could go any higher. "What happened?" he demanded.
"Just clumsy," she told him as she held the sleeve in place against her wrist.
His eyes narrowed as he searched her face. "I've never found you so."
"I almost fell off a boulder in front of you," she replied flippantly.
"I thought that was because of my overwhelming presence."
She laughed but it sounded strained to him or perhaps he was reading too much into it. "My fingers may be fast but my feet sometimes don't know where to go." She gestured to the log beneath them. "This isn't the only log in the forest and I'm not always so agile."
Atticus glanced down at the log and then back at her. He wasn't entirely sure he bought that explanation but he didn't know why she would lie about it either. "Will you have to leave again soon?" she inquired.
"The Council will be meeting once every three months to discuss the state of things."
"Will the King's Watchmen still be present in the villages?"
"Yes, as far as I know. They just won't be known as the King's Watchmen anymore."
She leaned against his side. "No, I suppose they won't. Will they be The Council's Watchmen?"
"They will just be The Watchmen now." Her subtle scent filled his nostrils; he rested his lips against her bent head. The end of her braid dangled between them, he picked it up and began to play with her hair as it tickled against his arm. "Do you mind if I take this out?" he asked as he tugged lightly on the faded blue ribbon tied at the end of it.
She sat back to look at him. "No," she whispered.
The ribbon gave way beneath his fingers; he placed it on the log before beginning to undo the braid. The last of the braid fell away to reveal the glorious hair that was always so neatly tucked away. The thick waves of it spread over her shoulders and fell across the log. The rays of sun spilling through the trees caused it to shine like onyx in the light.
"Beautiful." He was surprised to realize that he'd never said that to a woman before. Not even to the women he'd known who were more beautiful than she was, who wore finer clothes, and didn't stare at him as if they were half convinced he was going to eat them. The idea of tasting her was extremely tantalizing as he brushed the hair back from her neck to expose the vein running through there.
The memories of feeding from human women faded away as he became focused on her. None of those women had ever aroused this deep need in him like she did. His gaze slid back to her but she had stopped watching him, her head was lowered and she was staring down at the water.
Why did this woman affect him so? He wondered as he ran his fingers over her neck. Needing some distance from her he withdrew his hand from her neck, grabbed hold of the log and hopped into the stream. The water swelled up to his thighs, the sandy bottom slid between his toes as he turned to look up at her.
"What are you doing?" she laughed.
"Cooling off." She shook her head at him and leaned further back on the log when he held his hands out to her. "Are you afraid?"
Her lips pursed with displeasure at his taunting. "I'm not afraid of anything."
"Prove it," he dared her.
She glanced down at her white chemise before looking at him again. He could see the doubt and hesitation on her face, but he silently willed her to take the plunge. He'd jumped into the water to get away from her for a bit; but he found the water did nothing to cool his fervor and he would much prefer to be touching her again. He took a step toward her; her knees were almost touching his shoulders as he rested a hand on each side of her legs.
"I promise not to get you wet above your knees." What amazed him most was that he meant it. Every part of him hungered for her in a way that he had never hungered for a woman before and yet he was more concerned about easing her worry than easing his own needs. "I'll hold you out of the water if you like."