Page 77

“Like what you see?” she asks, smiling.

My hands twitch with the need to touch her.

But then she giggles at me, turns, and runs.

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

She disappears behind a large stone column, and my heart races.

Then, a familiar scent fills the air.

Through a glass case, I catch sight of her. She’s looking at me. Something shines in her hand, catching the light. She holds it up. A blade. Then she draws it across the top of her arm.

The second her blood scents the air, my bones start to itch. I need her. Fuck, I need her.

Even though The Hunger has gone, and FHB does nothing for me anymore, I need her like I need air. And I am powerless to resist her blood.

She drops the knife. It clatters to the ground and sends my heart skittering.

I charge for her, heart racing, muscles throbbing.

But she is gone.

I turn and catch her in the glimmer of the shadows at the other end of the room.

I run again.

She runs too.

We reach a long dark corridor. It is full of ornate vases, and old pictures, and has nothing at all to do with the magick display Thornfield put together. It’s old shit. Proper old.

Nova stops at the end of the corridor.

The doors are closed. She has nowhere to go.

Her heart is racing. Blood trickles down her arm.

She catches some with her finger and sucks it into her mouth.

I bolt toward her, then stop mid-way down the corridor.

Outside the window, vines cover the outside of the building. I can feel them. Hear them. As my hunger for her grows, so do my powers. I splay out my fingers.

Nova jumps as the glass shatters and a vine sneaks in. But she does not move or try to stop me as I tie her up.

Two fronds curl around her wrists, and the ivy starts to cover the door behind her.

Then it pulls her flush against it, pinned, arms and legs held open for me.

I stride toward her and lick my lips.

“I’m going to drink from you,” I tell her.

She nods, heart racing, and looks down at her bleeding arm.

“Not from there.” I shake my head, and fall to my knees, finding the spot where Zephyra fed from her.

“From here.” I smooth my thumb over the healed up scar, then bare my pointed canines. “Are you ready?”