Page 41 of Dark Flame

“I told you what I feel about you and first names.”

“Mhm. But then you also go and call me Miss Sinclair once in a while, and correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’tMissa title of respect?”

Fucking witch.“Habit, I suppose. Titles were everything in my time.” I downplay it while also ignoring the strange sensation this conversation strikes inside me. “You asked a question and gained an entire bar and water. It’s my turn again.”

She rolls her eyes while taking the final bite of food. “You’re in charge,Your Majesty. See? Title of respect.”

Ignoring everything she rambled about beyond my title, I ask, “Why do you not live with your coven?”

She shrugs, all taunting slipping from her tone. “When we got kicked out when I was a kid, my parents moved us away. Mom said it had something to do with the cure. That the coven feared how many vampires targeted us in their attempt to get to me.”

That makes no sense. Her people, Highridge Coven, are ancient and notorious for generations of Sinclair witches, but only this High Priestess has decided to abandon them? Witches are loyal to a fault and will always protect their own above all else, so why wouldn’t they want to keep the young Sinclair safe behind their lines, their spells, and their curses? Hell, if memory serves, the Sinclairs created Highridge.

I search for lies, but her expression remains neutral, if not a bit open. Propping my elbows on the armrests, I fold my hands over my stomach and kick my leg up over one knee, adopting a position of ease all while my mind whirls with suspicions and unknowns. There’s something more there, and if Sinclair doesn’t know, perhaps Freya will be open with information.

“You haven’t seen them since?”

She shakes her head, scrunching her nose. “All my training came from my parents. Oh, and Gram’s grimoires. Though she died before my birth.”

I toss her another bar, finding myself less and less interested in the game where I feed her a bite for information. I’ve gotten what I need—for the time being, at least. Now, I have to think about how to get her magick returned, and thus the cure.

I should go and consider next steps, but instead I find myself watching her. The way she brushes her hair into her face, as though trying to hide from me. The way she tugs the blanket higher, continuing to ease the shivers caused by the dungeon. So many micro movements. The intake of breath. The double blink before she rolls her lips together. The barely audible sigh.

“I killed my parents too,” I find myself admitting, though I’m uncertain why. To ease her guilt by making us equal on one level? That can’t be it, because this woman’s guilt is her problem and not my concern. “It was after I transitioned. I went back for them; they weren’t good people.”

She winces. “That’s a lot for a newly turned vampire. Traumatizing. If you were in control, would you have still?”

“Who said I wasn’t in control?”

“Oh.” Her lips remain slightly pursed, her brows pulling tighter together as she realizes that while we both might be the cause behind our parents’ deaths, we run in opposite lanes. She misses her parents, and I don’t. My only regret is not keeping my father alive for longer to drag out his agony.

“Yes, ‘oh.’” I study her expression, searching for that deeper realization that no matter how peaceful this momentary truce may seem, I’m not a good person. I’m a vampire, intent on using her until she dies from old age, blood loss, or when I get irritated by her presence.

“Why’d you tell me that?”

“I don’t know.” Shaking my head, I stand and start for the door. “If you stayed awake all day from your phobia, you’re no good to me now. You’ll be too tired for what’s next. Stay here and rest. Don’t bother trying to escape; the windows don’t open and the door will be locked.”

She scrambles across the bed, her feet making thumps entirely too loud. “Wait, I have more questions.” Her hand wraps my bicep, but I immediately shake her off, glaring over my shoulder.

“Your questions weren’t the point of today. Go to bed, Sinclair. That’s an order.”

“Fuck you.” She cuts in front of me, blocking my path, though I can so easily nudge her aside. “Why am I here?”

I sidestep her, reaching the door.

The persistent thing trails me. “What did my family do to you? That’s what all this is about, right? The cure is only your means to torment me.”

“Two points to the witch. Yes, but it’s a story for another day.”

“Alec—”

Her attitude’s been picking away at me slowly, like a fucking stake being shredded against my insides, but now she’s stabbed it into me and I amdone. I whirl, my movements a quick blur, obviously unexpected given how her eyes widen, hands coming up between us. I stand above her, looming, ensuring she realizes that no matter the semi-pleasant conversation we had tonight, we are far from friends, allies, or even fucking acquaintances.

She is my prey. She is my captive. She is my revenge. She is meant to be hunted, ensnared, and tormented exactly how her family once did to mine.

“Get. To. Bed.”

I’m out the door before her next breath, escaping the gnawing that continues ravaging my insides. The feelingshecauses.