Page 60 of Fangs

I find him in the darkness.

He is waiting for me, his silver hair spilling across his shoulders, his violet eyes burning with that familiar crimson ring. He reaches for me, my body melting against his.

“You came back,” I whisper.

“Always,” he breathes. “I will always come back to you. You just need to call.”

His hands find my waist, pulling me closer. His mouth finds my throat, and I feel the sharp press of his fangs, the delicious sting of his bite. Pleasure floods my veins, hot and electric.

We move together in the darkness, slow and deep and endless. I lose myself in him, in the feel of his skin against mine, in the sound of his voice whispering my name.

-

The sky outside begins to streak with the pale, sickly yellow of a new dawn.

I wake with my face pressed into the damp silk, my fingers clutching the empty sheets, my throat burning with Cain’s venom.

I rise, dress, and wait for the sun to sink again, a prisoner in the golden cage of my own ruin.

Pet

Aknock at the door.

I jerk upright, my heart hammering.

The room swims into focus—my room in the manor, the familiar walls, the vanity, the balcony that looks out over the grounds.

Cain’s voice penetrates the wood. “Lucy. Open the door.”

I cross to it on unsteady legs. My hand trembles as I turn the lock.

He stands in the doorway, his face unreadable.

“Your auction is tonight,” he says.

The words land like stones in my chest. I grip the doorframe, steadying myself.

“The Order is on the road,” he says. “They will arrive any moment. I have put you first. Before all the other girls. At dusk, you will be auctioned.”

I stare at him, my mind reeling. “Tonight. I’m being sold tonight.”

“Yes.” He steps into the room, his dark eyes scanning the space. “I will buy you. We will leave. The Order will not even know you were here. Neither what you are.”

A cold knot tightens in my stomach. “What do you mean, ‘what I am’?”

“Your blood.” His gaze drops to my throat. “It is special.”

“But do you know what I am?” I press, my voice rising. “Do you know why my blood is different?”

He doesn’t answer. His expression shifts, smooth and evasive.

“I will buy you,” he repeats. “We will go to the ocean.”

My jaw tightens. “And if I refuse?”

His eyes darken. “You drank my blood, Lucy. You answer my commands. You will not refuse.”

I feel the compulsion wrap around my mind like a vise, squeezing my thoughts into submission. I try to fight it, but his blood still courses through my veins, hot and demanding.