House of Sand and Secrets (Books of Oreyn #2)(56)

“Pelim Jannik, I understand that if we do this, we will be permanently bound to each other emotionally and mentally, and that no amount of wishing will make it go away, no matter what I say. Is that good enough for you?”

“If?”

“When, obviously.” I shift so that I can press my mouth against his neck, not-quite kissing his heated skin. “Idiot,” I mutter.

“Fine. Guess that will do.” Only he makes no move to start.

After a while, I bite gently against his neck then pull away so I can look at him properly. “So why are we waiting?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

He smiles thinly. “I’m wondering how to do this. Every House vampire knows techniques to keep their minds mostly their own.”

I lean back a little. He’s staring past my shoulder, but I don’t think he’s lying. “You said it was inevitable.”

“It is, but it doesn’t have to be totally crippling.” He snaps back from his pondering, and focuses on me. “Or are you telling me you want my mind trampling all over yours – knowing your every secret fear and hope?”

“Not if you don’t have to.” I wrinkle my nose. “Not at all, if you know a trick to stop it.”

“It’s not a trick.”

I wait. Then I jab him in the shoulder with my index finger. “Jannik?”

“We build houses in our heads.”

“You what?”

He sighs. His hands have migrated to my hips, and he’s drumming his fingers in thought. It’s not an unpleasant sensation. I shift against him, but he’s apparently distracted by his mind-houses. “A house is a safe place. It has walls for defence, doors to let people in. A house has places to hide things.”

“Like thoughts?” The idea is intriguing.

He nods. “I’ve built up my house year by year, from when I was very young, and I had tutors who helped me. You, on the other hand, are going to start this now, and I’m not much of a tutor, I’m afraid.”

“But you’ll show me how.” It’s not a question, but he answers anyway.

“Of course.”



“Good then.” The buttons that run down the front of my dress are more for decorative purposes than anything else; the whole thing is laced up at the back. It doesn’t stop them from working though. I fiddle the first three of the tiny cloth-covered buttons from their tight buttonholes, exposing skin. “Don’t bite me where it will show – I still need to act like nothing has changed when I march into House Eline demanding an audience.”

Jannik starts laughing softly, and shakes his head. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. It was always obvious that you weren’t going to do what anyone told you.” He tugs a few more buttons free, and the front of my dress flaps open completely. He stares for a moment, one side of his mouth quirked in bemusement then he grips my hips, and coaxes me to my knees.

I do what he wants, my chest rapidly rising and falling.

He lowers his head, and bites deep into the side of my left breast. The pain is immense, and I stifle my shriek with one fist. My other hand grips his shoulder so tightly I know that I’m going to bruise him. The pain surges as he drinks, and I can feel the tickle against my cheeks as my tears run down my face. I don’t blink, don’t sob. My teeth grind deeper into the flesh of my fist. It hurt less on my wrist.

That time I got through it by breathing in colours; by imagining each breath long and slow and made of light. Now I don’t want to just be a person enduring pain. With a ragged gasp, I lower my fist, and unclench my grip on Jannik’s shoulder.

The burn on the side of my chest lessens, almost as though accepting it into me robs it of its power. The pain changes, disappears, and Jannik raises his head. My breast stings, and blood is running down my side, but it’s nothing.

Euphoria rushes through me, a taste of magic, music and addiction. This is him. This is what he really feels like. I shiver uncontrollably, and the rush sweeps though me, filling my head and veins. Any moment, I’m going to pass out. I laugh.

Something cool presses against my side, and Jannik’s voice buzzes around me. “You’re all right?” He sounds far away. Fingers snap right by my ear, and I’m back. The euphoria is still there, but it’s muted.

The room is draped in shadows made of violet and indigo, the scarlet of my dress glistens like new-spilled blood. The smell of silk is so thick I can taste it, like stuffing wool down my throat. In my ears, my heart beat is not a lone drum, but a symphony. “I’m here,” I say, and marvel at the way my voice plays in the air. Slowly, I pull myself together, and sink back down. He’s hard again. “Beautiful,” I say, then give my head a quick little shake, like I’m bothered by a sandfly. “Your turn.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stays still, looking at me.

The seconds flick faster, and a minute passes.

“Are you–”

“Yes,” he says. “No.”

Bitterness fills my mouth. “Jannik.”

“This is because of what I said at House Guyin, isn’t it. You’re feeling guilty and so now you offer me this?”

“Stop being so, so … .”

“Right?”