Page 46 of The Temptation of Roan Island

SHEMAIAH

The freestanding clock set against one of the library walls chimes, singing that another hour has passed. It clicks and whirs as the mechanism swivels around, revealing a fresh face to mark the waning afternoon, gears clicking. There’s a gilt sun etched into the opal of this particular face—one of four to represent different times of the day. It moves toward the horizon, the golden hands marking the time at three. I glance at Pippa, who isn’t looking at the puzzle on the table, but rather, staring off, unseeing.

My gaze dips to the column of her neck. I note the pulse point, slow and steady. As the next new moon grows closer, I can feel the hunger in me deepening to a hollow ache. Our fake courtship arrangement has kept Anna and Kay away, but it’s also kept Pippa close. Too close. Always nearby, tempting me.

The only thing that helps ease the desire to sink my teeth into the nape of her neck is the scent of her illness. I knew she was dying when she agreed to come to Roan Island. This was always the outcome, but the thought of it didn’t hurt then. As much as I don’t want to like Pippa, I do like her. She doesn’t talk for the sake of talking. Her company is refreshing. She’s wildly smart. I can give her any puzzle, and she’ll solve most of them. She has a friendly smile, even if it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s strong. So very strong and resilient. And she doesn’t ask for more than I can give. Yet lately, I want to give her everything.

“Where are you?” I ask once the clock’s whirring has settled back to its faint, repetitive click.

She turns her head and offers me a feeble smile. “I was thinking about Toby.”

She shifts in her seat and leans forward to look at the puzzle. Her bottom lip, the one she likes to abuse with her teeth, is tucked into her mouth. This is the first time she’s been out of bed since the boat arrived without Tobias yesterday. It’s clear the only reason she isn’t putting up a fight to do something more is because she’s still extra fatigued.

But I know it’s coming.

“Where do you think he is, Shemaiah?”

“Gray is looking.”

“I know.” She frowns, her blue eyes shaped with irritation, radiating her worry. But she attempts another of those weak, placating smiles. “Thank you.”

To distract her, I turn my attention back to the puzzle, reaching for another piece. “How many have you placed? I think I’m winning.”

“Puzzles aren’t competitive.”

“They can be.” I search for where my piece might fit. “We count how many pieces we place. The person with the most at the end of an hour wins.”

Her tongue swipes across her bottom lip, making it glisten in the afternoon light. A siren call.

I clear my throat and set my piece. It snaps into place. “This makes ten for me. And I don’t think you’ve found more than three.”

“Well, then we can’t wager. We aren’t starting on even ground.”

“I’ll start anew.”

That gets her to offer me a small but authentic smile and a soft snort from her nose. “I don’t have anything to wager.” She holds out her empty palms.

“Come with me to the new moon party tomorrow night.” I nearly bite my tongue at the suggestion, not sure why I said it.

She sits back and narrows her eyes. “Why?”

Why indeed? I mirror her posture, leaning back in my chair. “To keep me safe.”

She offers an amused sound.

“We’ve been over this. They already believe you’re taken. Anna hasn’t bothered you since you made your impulsive announcement. You shouldn’t have a problem. Besides, you, sir, will need blood.” She reaches for a puzzle piece. “How will you feed with me on your arm?”

The vision of Pippa near me while I feed makes my hearts scramble like two Mavarri children seeking attention. I ignore the sensation and place my hand over hers. “Do we have a wager?”

Her skin is warm, burning into my palm. The heat of that simple touch zips like lightning up my arm and down my spine to parts of my body I shouldn’t be thinking of in the company of my friend.

“And what are you offering?” she asks.

I pull my hand away, returning it to my lap, and subtly adjusting myself under the table. Maybe getting her to come to the new moon party isn’t such a good idea, but now that I’ve said it aloud, I want it. I want to see her there all dressed up. So what can I offer to entice her?

“Well, we’re looking for your son,” I say slowly.

“That isn’t a wager. It’s a statement. Do I need to teach you what a wager is, Shemaiah Roan?”