Page 52 of Castle of the Cursed
We stare at each other, neither one willing to give ground. I definitely get the sense he’s not being fully transparent, but then again, neither am I. There can never be full trust between us. Does that mean we can’t work together?
He reaches across the table and crushes a house-wich for me in his hand. Then he sets it down on my plate, like he expects me to eat it.
“You need your strength,” he says, making me feel eight years old.
My gaze drops to his lips. His sharp fangs are hidden, but I can almost feel them piercing my skin. His bite was the furthest thing from a kiss, and yet I can’t quit fantasizing about the rush of pain and pleasure.
It’s probably just because no one has touched me in so long.
Yet when Felipe got close, I shirked at his touch, says the small, devil’s advocate impulse in my mind.
What if Sebastián is right about me not caring if I live or die? What if it’s not him that I crave but the death he offers?
His gaze flicks to my neck, and my pulse canters—which probably only makes my blood more tempting to him. “You went to such an effort for me tonight,” I say, “but you have nothing for yourself.”
I tug down on the necktie I looped around my neck so Felipe wouldn’t see the fading puncture marks. “You can drink from me if you want.”
Lightning flashes in Sebastián’s eyes, and he looks as primal and lethal as the first night we met. There’s a sharpening of his expression, the way a predator looks when it’s cornered its prey, and I think he’s pleased.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…
I count off my heartbeats as I wait for his answer, trying not to think of what it says about me that I want him to accept. My need to feel his touch outweighs my instinct for self-preservation.
I’m at beat twenty-eight when he says, “As I have failed you tonight, it would not be fair for me to feed.”
He looks down at the table, his voice slightly strained. “And you need more time to recover from my last bite.”
I don’t know why the rejection stings. I should be grateful he isn’t trying to kill me, but instead I’m hurt the shadow beast won’t use me to sate his thirst. I just gave him consent to drink my blood, and he’s turning me down?
“I’m not hungry,” I say, pushing away from the plate with the untouched house-wich. “I’m going to bed.”
But as soon as I stand up, Sebastián is there, like a gentleman pulling out a chair for a lady. Only he’s blocking my exit.
“What is wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I shove the chair back and try to sidestep him, but he’s in my way again. There’s a foot of air between us, and I inhale night-blooming jasmine.
“Have I offended you?” he asks in a murmur.
“You’ve tried to kill me every night, and now you’re worried you’ve offended me? Make up your mind!” I’m aware my tone is flirting with hysteria.
“If I drink from you, it upsets you, and if I refuse to drink, it also upsets you.” He sounds like he’s losing his patience, too. “How about you make up your mind?”
“I swear, if Felipe hadn’t heard you banging against the door of the castle yesterday, I would still be questioning my sanity!”
“Believe me, I have questioned my own sanity plenty of times since meeting you!” As the frustration builds in him, he seems almost human. “I have no idea why I am trying to feed you, or why I am bothering to keep you alive, especially when you do not even care to live—”
I cut him off by shoving my tongue down his throat.
I feel feral and out of control, like I’m trying to inflict pain and not pleasure with my kiss. Yet as soon as his tongue touches mine, I’m transported.
Sebastián’s mouth is an explosion of flavors. Black cherries, dark chocolate, roasted coffee—
He pulls away. “Estela—”
But I can’t let him go. That felt so good, and I’ve been alone for so long, that I throw myself against him, drawing his tongue into another dance.
This time I’m the predator, and I don’t care. I just want more of how he makes me feel. Alive.
