Page 87

Demos snorted. “I’m not the one who called bathing in anything less than scalding water ‘unspeakably cruel.’”

“I’m simply saying, if you have the option of a better experience, there’s no reason to deny yourself,” Amalthea countered, then focused on me. “You never talk about your life before. How you wound up where you did.”

There was an implicit question there that left my three companions looking at me expectantly. Normally, I avoided any mention of how Raphael had found me—or the time before. I assumed Raphael had given them some description, but since I hadn’t told him much either… “I was sentenced when I was eight.”

“Sentenced… to prison?”

I shook my head. There was a distinction—proper prisoners got to sit around, at least. Got regularmeals. “To serve the prison. Greymere drives witches mad, so only voids can work there, but a life cut off from magic is inconvenient even for voids. Most serve short terms. It’s a miserable, filthy place.” Maybe the drink was affecting me. Or perhaps I just wanted to be able to tell someone. “I was sentenced to serve fifteen years, and then I could be released. Or so I thought. The night Raphael and I escaped, I found out that was a lie. They had no intention of letting me go.”

“But you were a child.” Amalthea’s voice was soft with horror. “What could possibly have been so terrible you were sent there?”

I took another pull of ale, savoring the burn down my throat. With every sip, it was easier to understand why others liked it. “Such is the king’s justice.”

“Not all kings,” Raphael growled.

I hadn’t looked at him while speaking. His expression was fierce, nearly terrifying. But I knew, in my bones, it wasn’t directed at me but at the injustices I’d faced. There was a comfort in that, in someone being angry at the old wounds I’d thought long since scarred over.

The night continued. I spoke no more of my past, but Demos and Raphael took turns telling stories from theirs. The two had known each other for over half a millennium,which left plenty of fodder for entertaining tales. I listened and drank more, eager to chase away the memories that had stirred. The wine made it easy.

“I think you had a bit much,” Raphael said as I stumbled out the door ahead of him, catching myself on the wooden frame.

“I fuh—”Hiccup. “Feel great.”

And then I nearly landed face-first onto the stone walkway. Powerful arms scooped me up, and before I knew it, I was pressed against Raphael’s chest, one arm cradling my back, the other under my legs. I nestled into his hold, liking the way his scent wrapped around me. There was a low rumble in his chest, and something like, “Go on ahead without us.”

Amalthea’s and Demos’s voices were distant as they bid us goodbye. I twisted to look over at them and then back at Raphael. He was wearing an expression that was utterly foreign to me, so soft and concerned. His white brows furrowed as he looked down at me, the red eyes I’d once found terrifying were warm with affection. Gods, that wine was good. He had the slightest stubble covering the sharp planes of his face. I lifted a palm to his cheek, marveling at the prickly sensation. He halted while I ran my fingers over his skin. Vampire stillness. I liked that I was getting to touch him. I’d tried to stop noticing how beautiful he was—first, because he was a vampire. Then, because of everything else. But now, those parts of my brain were as quiet as the empty streets.

“I forget human tolerance is vastly lower than a vampire’s,” he said, the low tone of his voice washing over me.

I curled in closer, dropping my hand to his neck. “Drank less than Thea.”

The rumble of his chest was soothing. “Sometimes I wonder if Thea might be part fish.”

My brain was too slow to understand what he was saying exactly, but it was with that same dry humor I’d come to recognize so I laughed all the same. And then suddenly I was all too tired and too comfortable to stay awake. I dozed for what could have been hours or minutes, waking up only as we reached my (recently replaced) door. The little rest I’d had left me wide awake and even more aware of the male who carried me.

“You smell so nice,” I murmured, savoring the closeness. It felt so right. “I wish I could taste you.”

His fingers tensed around my legs. “And here I so often think that about you.”

“You did,” I remind him. “You said I was perfect.”

“This is true.”

Which part—that you said it, or that it’s true?“I shouldn’t have let you.”

“Because of the bond?”

I giggled. “No. Because of how it felt.”

It was a predator whose eyes pinned me in place, but for once I wasn’t scared. “And how was that, Samara?”

“Alive. Connected.” I shivered at the memory. “I thought it would be painful. Thought I’d die before I leta vampire bite me. But sometimes, when I lay in bed, I wonder if I’d die if I don’t get bitten again. If that’s the only way to feel so gloriously alive. My body ached in ways I’d never known possible, my skin felt tight. For the first time, I felt like I understood what it was to be a woman. I wanted you, Raphael. More than anything. I’d have given you anything.”

Raphael set me on the bed, gently, and took several steps back. “The bite sometimes makes humans…react, Samara. That’s all.”

I shook my head. “I’d never felt anything like that before.”

“Surely you’ve feltsomethinglike that. From a kiss, a caress.”