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“I’m afraid of you, but I’m not scared of you.”
“You should be.”
“Well, I’m not. You haven’t hurt me yet. But I know you can and you will if you feel like it.” My hands shook and I clutched my gown, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
He stretched his long limbs and stood. “It's what one does in the face of fear that matters. You keep going no matter what is happening around you. I admire that.”
“Thanks, I guess.” I tried to take solace in his words despite the circumstances. He wasn’t wrong; I did keep going.
But that was the thing. My habitual persistence when ration told me to stop had dogged me my whole life. I just didn’t know when to quit, even when it hurt. Just look at my ex. Look at my art. I was the fool who kept running headlong into oncoming traffic even though I would eventually get creamed.
“I still don’t want to be your wife,” I snapped at him as I heaved my exhausted body from the comfort of the sofa.
Lukas’s face stretched into a deadly and seductive smirk, his eyes sparkling. “Good thing that is not your decision to make.”
He went for my hand, and I tried to snatch it back. He was quicker than a snakebite in a nature documentary, and I found myself grabbed despite my maneuvers. His satisfaction wrapped me like a blanket.
But I wouldn’t let it smother me.
* * *
The festivities were in full swing when we returned to the throne room. Queen Annalise presided over the gathering, nodding and smiling at those who approached her chair.
The young man who had announced her earlier was now clad only in a swinging loincloth which, given the meager nature of the fabric, was essentially useless for coverage. He buzzed around her like a housefly, trying to run interference on those waiting for her attention while she blatantly fondled his not unimpressive attributes.
I had never seen anything quite like this, other than a single evening at a nudie bar with friends once. But there, no one was allowed to touch the goods.
Topless waitresses bearing heavy gilded trays full of beverages swam between the clusters of people serving what I was certain was blood, in addition to less biologically natured drinks. I wouldn’t have minded sampling some of the white wine because how many people can say they drank alcohol in another dimension? Or wherever we were.
“You said this is the First Realm. So, what does that mean exactly?”
Lukas must have seen me eyeing the wine because suddenly, he was handing me a glass. “That means this is the First Realm. I’ve told you.”
A hiss of frustration squeezed past my lips as I grabbed the glass. “Is that like another dimension or something? I’ve heard people, including you, mention other numbers. About Realms.”
He held up a hand as someone approached us, only they didn’t drop dead. “Yes, you could say that. I suppose that’s what humans refer to it as. And yes, there are many.”
He grasped my chin lightly and looked me deep in the eye. “Are you planning on leaving? You won’t. Not without me.”
The wine was delicious, honestly. No weird, sharp aftertaste to remind me of the way rubbing alcohol smelled. This stuff was good. “So, you could take me somewhere else?”
His eyes shuttered, an emotion skirting by too fast for me to decipher. “Yes, I could. Perhaps someday I will. When you stop fantasizing your escape.”
“You don’t know what I fantasize about.”
His gaze darkened and dipped to my mouth, setting a fluttering feeling dancing around inside my chest. I held my breath, waiting to see what he would do and wondering if I wanted him to.
The moment was broken by Kalix. “Annalise expects you to marry soon.”
Lukas pinned him with a glare, and I feared for the man’s life until Lukas said, “Did she instruct you to give me that message?” He nearly rolled his eyes.
Kalix was entirely unaffected by the mood swing. “No, it is just what I overheard.”
“You know her games. I am certain she meant for you to relay the gossip.”
He shrugged a single shoulder and brought a crystal flute full of thick red liquid to his lips. He stared at me while he took two deep swallows. I couldn’t tear my eyes away if I wanted to.
The taste of blood would have to be different for those who survived on it. From sucking on bleeding splinters and accidentally biting my own lips or the inside of my cheek a couple of times, I knew it didn’t taste like chocolate. Consuming it for pleasure or out of necessity was such a foreign concept to me, that it made my stomach shrink while I watched him.
