Page 90 of Besieger
Stefan’s eyebrows came together when his guest stepped closer. It was wearing a different suit tonight, a black three-piece, the waistcoat peeked under the blazer, and a metal clip pinned the black tie in place. The thing looked like it was pretending to be a vampire: purposefully dressed all in black, so still and stoic, nothing of its bravado from the previous visit. No naked skin peeked from beneath the shirt. Even its shoes were made of black leather.
“How does that taste?” The vampire’s question startled Stefan. He looked at the cup in his hand before answering.
“The coffee? It depends. There are different types. Some blends are bitter, others sweet. I like mine a little sweet.”
“Coffee,” the vampire repeated the word, smiling, as if he had learned something new and peculiar. “I remember tasting it on a human’s mouth. Bitter, yes.”
On a human’s mouth…
Stefan tried to prevent himself from looking at the vampire’s mouth. The full lips, the playful tongue. The fangs. They were too long and too sharp for that mouth. Stefan’s tongue circledalong the inside of his own jaw. His canines were slightly pointed but would not pierce immediately if he bit down. Some parts of him still carried traces of the animal he shifted into, from having stayed in that form for too long. His sharp teeth, his pupil like a cat’s, unnoticeable at first glance, as the eye patch drew all the attention.
He made to drink down the remainder of his coffee when the vampire appeared before him. With one hand it took the cup, while its other hand grabbed Stefan’s chin and tilted it head up towards the light. Its thumb scraped against the fabric of the eye patch and Stefan’s gaze grew cold, his whole body stiff with anticipation. The vampire held his head in place, its fingers tracing over Stefan’s features.
“What made these?” it asked, pointing at the scars visible around Stefan’s collar and rolled-up sleeves.
“The one who made me,” the words poured from Stefan, his pulse quickened, suddenly eager to oblige; to answer every question truthfully. A ghostly hand played with the strands of his hair, tugging playfully.
“And your face?”
Stefan nodded. He had not thought about Krum in years. Now the image of his lycan begetter was pulled from his mind like a thread, unravelling everything he wanted to forget out from underneath the sands of forgetfulness. The fingers on his face were warm and soft, nothing like the phantom digits. He had to restrain himself from slapping the vampire’s hands away. His nails dug into the cushions of the couch, the material felt strangely like gravel… or sand. If he spread his legs, only a little, the vampire could step closer.
The vampire opened his palm and the cup fell—only to stop, suspended in mid-air. It floated to the drawer and placed itself on the tray next to the pot. Stefan barely acknowledged it. The fingers were now tracing his jaw, examining the scars that tore across his lips.
Let me in, Stefan,the vampire breathed inside his mind, and Stefan held back a growl. He pressed his back harder against the sofa and saw his legs open and spread, the cloth of his trousers stretching over his thighs and knees.
Pleased by his obedience, the vampire let go and crossed his arms.
“I saw your pups following me. They are not hard to spot in a crowd of humans.”
“Speak for yourself,” Stefan sneered, keeping his legs wide apart. The only thing he dared do was brush at the particles that had gotten between his fingers. Someone had spilled something grainy all over the sofa, and he could not get rid of it. “You’re walking around without a coat in the winter. And you move eerie.”
“Eerie how?”
“Why are you here?” Stefan ignored the question.
“I have already told you,” the vampire sighed, and rubbed at his temples. It was the most human thing he had done in Stefan’s presence. “Is that really what you want to ask me?”
Not about coffins?the annoying voice peeped in Stefan’s head.Aren’t you curious to see what a good, tight fit you would make in one?
Stefan clenched his jaw. The voice sounded strangely like his own, yet it was not. It morphed and dripped down his ears. When he remained silent, the vampire clicked its tongue, and said:
“My master is interested in this territory. I am here to assess whether it is suitable for his plans and needs. He does tend to plan on the grander side of things,” and here the vampire smiled fondly.
“What about thehouseyou’ve bought? Is that also for your master?”
“I need a place of residence. Hotels are not suited to my kind.”
“Oh, please. Next thing you’ll be telling me is that you are applying for a golden passport.” Stefan made a dismissivegesture. “There is a far better chance you came here to settle with Victor, than being on an errand from a coven.”
The vampire’s expression was puzzling. As if Stefan had already found the truth but was unable to see it for what it was.
“Bulgaria’s a borderland between the New World and the Old. The Continent and the Orient. What you see as ruins surrounding you, I see as a stronghold.”
“Spare me. You know nothing of us.”
“You are right, I do not. I want to correct that.”
“What for? Your master?”
