Page 14 of Vervain

Selfish. Reckless. Fucking ignorant of any feelings but his own.

Raising my hand, the dagger instantly materialises this time, glinting silver. Serun doesn’t move, and as the blade nears his chest, my ear flicks at the rush of wind behind me. I turn around to find the shadows forming another version of him, like he did after I crawled out from the grave. I drive the blade towards this version, but he tilts his head slightly to the side and the blade sinks into the stone like butter.

With a curled lip, I glare at Serun leaning against the wall, his red eyes sliding away from the sunken blade and back to me. “If you want to kill me, you need to stop using silver. Wood works best, consort.”

Shadows flare, and my dagger melts to ash. Exhaling a breath, I step away and mutter, “Light. I am trying to kill you with light.”

“Where there is light, there is shadow,” he says as he pushes off the wall.

“Were you leaning against the wall the entire time?”

“No. Just sensed your presence and moved quickly. Although your reaction time amused me, if only a little.”

Wonderful. I am amusing to him. My tongue rolls across my fangs before I say, “What do you want from me, Serun?”

Sweet, sun-kissed red eyes lower to my neck, then back up to my face. “Want? Desire. Refuge. I do not know what you are to me, but I wish for you to let me stay by your side until I do. I can learn more about you, and you can learn all there is about me.”

I unclench my jaw. “Learn about me? Serun, I gave you all of me when you bit me, yet all you gave me were fragments of you. How can I trust you when you spin lies with your truths?”

Serun takes an urgent step forward, raising his hand. Panic rises as his body looms over me. I flinch away, plunged into a memory of cruel hands in my hair, stinging blades of grass, and my cheek pressed into the soil.

I turn my head and close my eyes, bracing for impact.

How easy it is for men to take. To control.

“Kamai…” I open my eyes when the pain doesn’t come. Instead, he cups my cheek, his thumb brushing at the wetness there. He wears that soft look I remember from when we were stargazing. “I will keep my liar’s tongue at bay with you.”

Confusion hits me like a tidal wave, and when I try to force it to stop, sparks hit my heart and make it stutter to a now familiar beat.

My ears pull back when I say, “I don’t know where to go from here, but I will learn all there is to know about the Lord of the Undercity.”

His hand lowers. Tension stirs in the air, a quivering mess of emotions. “The sun will rise soon,” he says softly.

I open my mouth, but only air comes out. Swallowing a lump, I say, “I’d like to thank you for saving me. But I don’t want you to believe it means I forgive you for burying me alive and tricking me into being your consort.”

He scratches his chest. “Then say your thanks, Saya.”

Heat flares across my cheeks. “Thank you, nightwalker.”

Serun breathes a laugh and dips his head. “You are…strange. I didn’t expect you to thank me. How…sweet.”

I stare blankly at him and drawl, “Don’t you have a deathbed to crawl back into?”

Shadows slip across him, wrapping around Serun like spider silk. With it, amusement stirs the aura surrounding him, and he leaves with a smooth, “Good day.”

I close the door behind me when he departs and stare into the unfamiliar room. It’s one space, with the bathroom and bedroom combined. The bed has satin sheets, and it faces the door. Nearby, a divider screens the ceramic claw-foot tub and shower.

I lock the door, sliding the bolt into place, before I make my way across the carpet and over to the bathroom. Stepping onto sandy yellow tiles, I reach for the towel hanging on the corner of the divider. As I do, I catch my own movement in the mirror above the basin. My stomach spasms, tingling with disgust as I face myself. Blood stains my throat and coats the torn dress that barely covers my chest. Most of it from where that slayer shot me.

I face myself. Raw. Real. Without my glamour.

In every way, I look like a nightwalker: pointed ears, sharp red eyes, long fingernails, and fangs hidden behind pressed lips. The only difference is my white hair and icy skin. Devan made it sound like these traits aren’t from being a nightwalker. So, where did they come from, if not my nightwalker side?

I grimace and step behind the glass shower screen, turning the faucet on. As the water warms, I remove my clothes and toss them aside before stepping underneath the spray. My tense muscles start to unknot.

Tipping my head back, I run my fingers through my tangled mess of hair. Dirt and blood flow like a stream down my body and swirl down the drain by my feet.

A bottle of shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and salt scrub sits in a cubby beside me. As I grab the salt, my body tenses at the fleshy clumps of blood and brown hair I’ve washed loose. I want to ignore it, but I know what it is.