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“What do you mean?”
His eyes flash with guilt as his fingers tuck into the sleeves of his green cable-knit sweater. “I’m taking appetite suppressants. I have been for a while.”
“How long is a while?”
Silence.
“Since,” he finally says.
Since…since he fed from me?
“Séverin, that’s not okay. You haven’t fed at all?” I step toward him, noticing the way his gaze drops to my throat, the brown of his eyes becoming flecked with red.
“I have, some. I don’t want to talk about it.” He lowers his head.
There’s something more that he’s ashamed about, but I’m not going to press him now. Maybe later, somewhere where we aren’t at risk of being interrupted or overheard.
“Okay. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Delphine lately? She’s…missing.” A sudden surge of emotion hits me, making my voice pull tight in my throat.
Séverin shakes his head. “No, I haven’t.”
Sheepishly, he opens his arms, silently offering a hug. Probably not the best idea to hug a hungry vampire, but he kind of looks like he needs one too. The scent of vanilla and tonka bean wafts from his sweater as I step into his embrace.
It’s pleasant, until he shifts his head into the crook of my neck and sniffs me.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I scold gently, knowing it’s not his fault. No different from smelling good food when you’re starving.
He pulls back, putting distance between us, looking embarrassed again. “That was—”
A black blurry object crashes into him, sending them both to the floor. My heart lurches straight out of my chest as I see tattooed fists buried in the green fabric of Séverin’s sweater, rage painted all over Sunday’s face as he breathes fast.
I start toward them, but Séverin shakes his head, holding up his hand to stop me.
“I fucking told you to leave him alone,” Sunday spits, lifting Séverin’s torso off the ground and slamming it back down.
Séverin wheezes habitually from the impact, trying to buck Sunday off him. He should be a lot stronger. The lack of sustenance and appetite suppressants must be taking it out of him.
Séverin digs his fingers into the flesh of Sunday’s arm, snapping the rope of the obsidian bracelet I gave him, sending black beads skidding across the floor.
It’s a minor distraction, but it’s enough. Séverin grunts, managing to free a leg, driving it up and between Sunday’s legs. He loosens his grip enough that Séverin wiggles free, using both feet to push off Sunday’s chest and launch himself out of the way.
“Stop it,” I plead helplessly. “Both of you, please.”
My pleas go unanswered as Séverin scrambles upright, half falling against the wall. His tongue slides across his teeth, wincing.
Sunday rises to his full height, savage and imposing. His head cocks to one side, watching Séverin take a few staggering steps back.
Something about Sunday’s movement feels off.
Séverin looks past Sunday directly at me, fear swelling in his eyes.
An oppressive energy in the air severs my ability to speak; all I can do is make a small, strangled noise.
I don’t know how Sunday moves so quickly. One moment he’s still, the next he’s yanked a ram’s skull off the nearby wall, advancing on Séverin.
“You don’t speak to him,” Sunday seethes, matching every step that Séverin takes back toward the wall. “You don’t look at him. You don’t even think about him. Otherwise, I will fucking kill you.” Cold dread slithers down my spine as Sunday’s voice contorts, ripping at the edges until he doesn’t sound like himself at all.
All I can do is watch in horror as he slams the ram’s skull into Séverin’s throat, pinning him to the wall. The muscles in Sunday’s arms bunch as he increases the pressure, choking Séverin as he scrabbles at the horns.
