Page 36 of These Eternal Bones

Ladders with Weak Steps

Molly

It is unsurprisingly difficult, convincing an immortal vampire to do something that he does not wish to do, especially when that vampire has tendrils that cling, pull, and truss you up at his mercy at a moment’s notice.

I drag my brush along the canvas that he has some unfortunate soul stretch and prepare for me since I have long depleted the town's stores.

Where one unicorn painting once graced his office, my art now lines the walkways and walls, replacing art I cannot fathom the value of.

It's that which makes me steel myself, leaning into the patient resilience I built up around myself over my twenty-three years of frustration and silence.

Because, where I am still finding my place along the walls, he never doubted my value .

I dip my brush, dragging it down in soft wisps, mimicking the hair long fallen into his face as he watches me intently.

There's no work today, no pacing or tugging at his silky, midnight colored hair.

He just watches, and despite the press of urgency and the trickle of annoyance, I am loath to stop him.

Especially when he catches me looking, especially when his lips quirk- like that .

A hint of sharpened canine promising pleasure.

I let loose another breath in a long, strategically timed sigh, pretending to fret at the canvas, making sure to look terribly troubled.

My three hours’ worth of hard work finally pays off as he shifts, ever so slightly, his tendrils unraveling from their lazy place wrapped around my ankle to nudge and bop playfully at my nose.

I stifle a giggle; frustrated people do not giggle.

“Is something the matter, utsukushii onnanoko?” Beautiful girl. He’d told me not too long ago.

“It’s just the lighting in here…” It’s a ridiculous statement; the windowed walls and clear dome ceiling of the solarium are the perfect place to paint. “It’s too bright.”

His eyes narrow, dark veins ebbing and flowing underneath his skin, every bit as sentient as the man sporting them.

Please, let me go to the library.

After Tien and Cartiel’s odd standoff, where the older man no doubt listened in on our conversation, the doors have remained closed. I haven’t checked to see if they’re still locked; the message is as clear as the tapestry door upstairs.

Don’t ask.

And for the most part, I haven’t. Only because questions regarding my supposed past lives, the door, and what he did to cause this only seemed to madden the man. For all my longing for answers, for a solution to stop this…I cannot bear to see him this way .

The most I’ve gleaned was unintentionally from Péal.

There is a bond formed between gods-sworn mates, one that he refuses to solidify, which explains to constant discomfort and hollowness in my chest. Where for me it is a nuance, for him it is agony, to ignore a soul deep imperative.

According to the selkie, I had described it in my diary before.

Apparently, I was once an avid writer. I found that particularly funny considering that in this life, while my reading is coming along well enough, my writing is still…

lacking. Although I get close enough to usually somewhat understand, I can’t seem to string the correct letters together; it is definitely not my calling. I have mostly given up.

Point being, if the bond is formed, I die. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but the longest I’ve lasted is a handful of years.

It’s odd how long that would seem in any other circumstances.

I choke back on the despair that threatens to overpower my resolve, the tiny nagging voice that tells me to let it go, to curl up with him and never surface.

But I have diaries, detailed ones…ones I know he wouldn’t dare throw away.

Perhaps even diaries with answers…perhaps ones in the library. Seems a reasonable place to put something like that, although she said she hadn’t seen them in years. The library is as good a place as any to start.

“Elric–”

“No.”

“Why not?” I challenge, anger making my lip wobble.

“I do not–”

“Want me to waste our time fretting over something that cannot be changed. Yes, you’ve recited that line quite a lot.

Which would make sense if I were interested in hunting down information you’ve denied me.

I simply wish to paint in lighting that isn’t utterly and entirely foul.

” I snap, the words leaving me with more venom than I meant.

Judging by the amused look on his face and the sudden tenting in his trousers, he doesn’t mind.

I huff at the sight of it, knowing all too well he can… smell my response.

Focus, Molly.

This is the exact moment I’ve failed every other time, with his tendrils sneaking their way to my most achy parts. I swat at them, nearly upsetting my canvas.

“It is a small request, and you’ll be by my side,” I plead, more like pout like a bratty child, but it is his fault since he cannot seem to stop spoiling me like one. Every day, new trinkets and gifts arrive from the port, and every day I wake to a man whose sole purpose is to adore me.

I fear it has gone straight to my head.

Especially since Péal has been temporarily removed from my care, due to not only her reliably loose lips but our little stunt in the ocean.

I’d all but had to tuck the selkie under my skirts to keep her head attached to her body.

She’d thought the whole thing quite hilarious until Elric had informed her she’d no longer be allowed to be in my charge.

Turns out fae are just as scary as the stories suggest, even tiny, cute ones with large eyes and sweet dispositions.

“It seems I’ve shown you my cards too soon, syringa.” I quirk a brow as he gathers me from my stool, calling for Tien. “I can deny you nothing.”

But you can.

I don’t say it out loud, something I’m sure he’s grateful for as he tells the Chimera to bring my paint set to the library.

The older man glances at me, an odd look in his eyes, which I dutifully ignore.

Elric has been getting…more possessive. I’ve found that my interactions, even simple ones, put everyone in danger.

It doesn’t take research to assume that’s due to him ignoring the bond.

That concept alone feels like tar in my chest.

I wrap myself around him, pressing kisses to his neck in thanks, until I realize we aren’t heading to the library at all. “Elric, this isn’t the way to the library.” I sigh, straightening.

“Quite right, my love. I’ve decided I will have you first.”

“Oh yeah? And if I say no?”

He chuckles, his chest rumbling, setting off butterflies in my stomach. “You won’t.”

He’s right, I won’t.

It takes another week before he relaxes while we’re in the library.

Or perhaps he’s merely distracted today, judging by the way he can’t seem to keep his claws hidden…

it’s a bad day to live in his mind. His eyes track every stroke of my brush, adoringly as always, but there’s something more too, a predatory edge.

He hasn’t been feeding.

It's been ten days since the last time, and I cannot begin to describe the odd way in which I ache for the press of his fangs. It feels slimy, taking advantage of his current state, but it’s the only chance I’ll get, the only chance we’ll get.

As the days pass, it only becomes more nagging and more insistent.

I bat the guilt toward the back of my mind, steeling myself before letting out a very sudden, very forced cough.

He's at my side before it finishes. “Molly? ”

The worry in his voice needles at my chest as I keep up the act, clearing my throat a time or two.

“I’m okay. The cold air, I think, is doing a number on my throat.

” I don’t even know if that makes sense.

His concern is a tangible thing as he touches and frets, studying every breath as he reaches into me, tugging gently at my blood.

It’s not a particularly fun feeling, but it no longer holds the horror it once did.

“Perhaps some tea, though? With honey.” I cough again for good measure.

“Of course.” He rights himself, scanning the room for something.

No, someone.

My heart lurches, my hand covering his on my shoulder. “You sent the selkie away, remember?”

“Why?” he utters it before he means to. The look of frustration on his face is enough to have me batting tears from my eyes.

“She and Tien went into town. The woman from the barter shop had said she found some things that might interest you.”

His growl sets off deep in his chest, his tendrils snapping and writhing, betraying his agitation. “Yes. I’ll grab it for you.” He leans down, capturing my lips in a kiss that has a shocking amount of fang before he stalks from the room.

That…worked better than I had hoped.

“Please be careful of the ladder. It was a weak step toward the top.”

I all but scramble from my seat, gathering my skirts in my palms as I race over to the ladder at the back of the winding, twisted library.

Nothing had struck me as odd about the way Cartiel offered that information at first, but after nearly two weeks to stew, it occurred to me I’m nearly certain he would rather lick the dirt underneath Jin’s hooves than be remotely thoughtful .

But what he would enjoy is disturbing any semblance of peace for my mate.

The thought angers me as much as I’m grateful for it this time.

I force myself to slow as I climb the ladder, testing each rung, finding them all sturdy and sound. My eyes scan rapidly over the dusty, aged spines of the books. How long does it take for an immortal vampire who doesn’t eat human food to make a cup of tea?

I’m about to find out.

I’m less gentle than I’d like to be as I jerk book after book out, most of the spines missing titles.

My heart races in my chest like a runaway train when, time and time again, I find nothing of importance, losing precious seconds struggling with some words.

My skin breaks out in a cold sweat, the prickle of awareness making me jerk my head around toward the doorway, finding it empty.

My eyes scan the room until they graze the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the bluff.

Focus, Molly, focus!

I step up higher, as high as the latter will allow.

Vertigo swaying when I glance up and see how close I am to the vaulted ceiling.

My hair falls into my face as I jerk my head down, back to my task, until something catches my eye.

A little ways down, wrapped in paper, is a large stack of books, free from dust. My eyes widen as I strain to reach it, my shoulder aching, but there’s no time to climb down and move the ladder.

My breath all but stops dead as I only grace it with my fingers, inching it closer and closer to me.

Please. Please. Please.

The moment my hand claps the package, my racing heart slams to a stop.

My mouth gapes in a scream that has no substance, as I feel the ladder jerk from underneath me.

It feels like far too short a time until I hit the ground, agony flaring in my shoulder and the side of my head.

As a small cry escapes from my lips, I shove the stack underneath a nearby settee seconds before Elric blurs to me.

“Molly!” His roar sets off a pang of guilt and agony in my skull.

I can’t stifle the sob that leaves my throat, the smell of copper assaulting my nose.

The man is a whirl of worry, his tendrils snapping and knocking books from the shelves as he gently lifts me from the ground seconds before his dominion floods and darkness takes me.