Refugee (The Captive #3)(17)
Braith closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I still think we can, he’s far more bitter than I had anticipated, but I don’t think he’s dangerous.”
“Maybe we should leave Braith. This place…”
For the first time she glanced at the walls, relief filled her as she realized that they were free of the “artwork” that the downstairs possessed. “This place is awful, and strange. We’re going to bring these creatures back to help us, and then give them positions of power? What would they do to the rest of us?”
“At one time these were the vampires that fought for human equality. No matter Gideon’s anger, I believe that he still wants that equality. The people in this town are amongst the vampires Aria, they are living with them. It won’t be easy, but it can and will be done.”
She stared inquisitively at him. “Is this what you liked? That girl…”
“I was never like Gideon, or even Ashby, and most certainly never like Caleb. I’ve never stooped to rape, even after you left the palace and I thought I’d lost you. Though, I suppose taking someone’s blood by force is a form of rape.” The color drained from her face, her lower lip trembled slightly as she took a small step back. Any reminder of his past was distressing to her, especially that one. He hated doing this to her, but she needed to hear and understand some things. “As far as I know neither Ashby, nor Gideon, has ever done such a thing either.
“If Gideon is anything like he used to be, that girl is here willingly. He never abused a human that didn’t agree to it and he never would have possessed a blood slave. His tastes are more salacious than most, but he was never cruel.”
“Those teeth, the paintings…”
“I’m sure there’s an explanation, and perhaps he will eventually give it to us, but until then you need to be a little more understanding and open minded. Though there may be things in our pasts that we are not proud of, we are not all monsters. If you are willing to look past my faults and the sins of my past, you should be willing to at least give Gideon and the others a chance.
“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I thought Gideon was dangerous.”
“Vampires and people change,” she whispered, her eyes raking over him.
Self-hatred flared through him, he shook his head as he looked away from her. “I don’t think he’s changed as much as he’s trying to portray. That girl is not unhappy here Aria.”
She shook her head as she turned away. Her fingers trembled as she untied the knot of her cloak. Though he wasn’t sure if she wanted his help right now he pulled it free of her. The material slithered to the floor; she didn’t bother to pick it up. He watched her as she placed her bow and arrows by the bed; he was disturbed by how thin she had become again.
“Oh, a shower!”
With those excited words, she was gone, vanishing through the doorway in a flash. He couldn’t help but smile as the sound of running water filled the room. He admired the delight she found in things that he had taken for granted. He remained by the door as she moved around the bathroom gathering soaps and shampoos in her arms with an eagerness that caused him to laugh softly.
His laughter vanished in an instant as she shed the bindings from her arms and dropped them to the floor. The smell of her blood assaulted him. She disappeared from sight again, the water flow changed as she stepped beneath the shower head. He hurt. It was a physical ache so intense that he couldn’t focus on anything else. She was humming in the shower, a melodious sound that drew him forward a step, and then another, and another. He was trembling, trying so hard to stop moving that his muscles throbbed from the restraint he tried, and failed, to exert over himself.
The water turned off. She was wrapping a towel around herself when he stepped into the bathroom doorway. He didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know what it was he intended as she finished tucking the towel into place. Her back was to him, her head bowed as her dark hair tumbled about her shoulders in curly wet waves. He could hear the beat of her heart and smell her blood in the cloying steam that filled the air.
She grabbed a brush then wiped the mirror with the palm of her hand. Her eyes widened, she jumped in surprise as she spotted him in the reflective surface. There was a brief moment where her surprise turned into a small smile, which swiftly faded away. Her hands grasped the towel as she turned slowly toward him, her heartbeat accelerating.
He should leave, but instead he found himself drawn toward her like a moth to a flame. He found himself standing before her when he’d had every intention of turning away and leaving the room. He should get as far from her as possible until he was well fed and stable enough to trust himself in her presence again. His hand trembled as he brushed the hair back from her very fragile, very delicate neck. Her pulse leapt wildly, a subtle breath escaped her as his fingers pressed against the previous marks he’d left upon her.
His fangs sprang forward; his vision was clouded by the hunger pulsing through him. “Yes,” she breathed.
“Too soon.” They were the only two words he was able to choke out.
“It’s been almost a day, I’m fine. Your blood strengthened me.” She pulled his hand away, tilting her neck so that he had a better view of his marks on her.
He wanted to fight, wanted to tell her no. But it didn’t matter, he was no longer in control of himself, no longer sensible enough to tell her no, to tell himself no. He was tempted to lurch forward and drive his fangs into her as he bit deep, finally easing the fire that had almost consumed him. He somehow found the strength not to give into that urge; he couldn’t injure her in such a way. She shuddered as he pulled her against him; darkened by desire her eyes were fearless as her arms entwined around his neck.