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For a moment, Griffin allowed himself to be drawn. But just as I felt just the whisper of his breath against my lips, he pulled abruptly away.
“Forgive me,” he murmured and his voice was almost as strained as when I had showed him the key. “But…I can’t.”
“Oh.” I felt crestfallen and embarrassed. I let go of his hair and looked down at my hands. “I’m sorry. I just thought…I wanted…”
“I want it too. Believe me, Megan.” He lifted my chin to make me look at him. His eyes were glowing silver again—that same look I associated with his thirst.
“Then…why not?” I asked uncertainly. “I mean, I didn’t want to…you know. I just thought—”
“You thought a simple kiss couldn’t hurt anything,” he murmured. “Unfortunately, sexual desire and thirst are tied strongly together in mature Nocturnes. Biting is part of making love for us. My thirst is already so great and you are so small and fragile…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
I bit my lip.
“You think you’d hurt me if you let yourself get too, um, worked up? That you’d try to bite me if you let yourself kiss me?” I asked. I couldn’t help remembering the several times he’d come close to kissing me, only to draw back at the last instant.
Griffin sighed.
“I would like to think I would never hurt you, under any circumstances—the lock I wear would keep me from drinking your blood, at least. But as I said, you’re fragile and Nocturnes have many times the strength of humans. If I allowed my desire for you to inflame my thirst which caused me to be careless with you…” He trailed off, letting the sentence hang in the air.
“I’m sorry,” I said contritely. “First I show you the key and now I’ve made your unbearable thirst even harder to bear. I didn’t mean to make things worse for you, Griffin.”
He shook his head.
“You haven’t, little witch. As I said, it is sweet torture to be so close to you, but it’s a torture I willingly bear. Would you just let me hold you for a while?”
“I’d like that,” I said and nestled against his chest again. Griffin put his arms around me and for a long time, I allowed myself just to relax against him and enjoy the feeling of finally coming home.
I think I could have sat like that all night, but there were more questions tugging at the corners of my mind—questions and concerns that wouldn’t let me be until I found out their answers.
“I guess we shouldn’t be doing this,” I said at last, with a sigh. “We’re breaking the Edict, aren’t we? The two of us together—a Nocturne and a witch? Or, a Sister, I guess,” I amended.
He laughed dryly.
“I am already being Censured for double murder. I don’t see that breaking the Edict could make things that much worse.” He pulled back a little and looked down at me in concern. “Of course, it’s different for you. Your reputation is unstained—it’s probably better if you stay away from me.”
“Griffin…” I looked up at him in exasperation. “Do you really think I could do that? Stay away from you, I mean? All I want is to get closer to you—to never leave you. I can’t stay away.”
He sighed. “I can’t either, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “It was incredibly hard not to come to you and walk you from your last period class today. But I told myself you didn’t need me anymore—now that Sanchez is gone.” He frowned. “How did that happen, exactly? There are many rumors but I have the feeling you know the truth.”
“I do, as a matter of fact.” I told him about the meeting with Sanchez and the Headmistress and Winifred Rattcliff. But when I spoke the senior witch’s name, Griffin stiffened.
“She was the one who put this on me.” He touched the black padlock with his fingertips. “She’s on the Council of Elders, you know—the terms of my Censure were all her idea—the endless thirst and being kept at Nocturne Academy indefinitely—so Headmistress Nightworthy could keep an eye on me, she said.” He made a face which showed his long, white fangs.
I shivered but didn’t pull away from him. I didn’t need to fear him anymore, I reminded myself. He had seen the key and passed the test it posed—he had chosen to remain locked up rather than put me in danger.
I wasn’t surprised that Winifred Rattcliff had been involved in his Censure a bit.
“I don’t like her,” I said. “Not just because of what she did to you—she’s a horrible woman! I don’t trust her. She tried to get inside my head twice during the meeting.”
He raised an eyebrow at me.
“And you were able to repel her? That’s impressive, Megan. As is the shame-marking you worked on Sanchez in the first place. But then, I never doubted your power.”
