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“What aboutyourego, my Lord?”
Haven chuckled without looking up at him. “My ego is just fine. Now, quiet. I’m reading.”
Hours passed. Cy assumed it was hours. Itfeltlike hours. And though he might have found himself growing bored, Cy realized he could watch Haven lounge, still, and striking as a sculpture, and want for little else.
Haven’s long, yellow hair hung down his back and over his shoulders, curling at the ends like strands of silk spun into gold. Cy had never seen someone so perfectly proportioned, so effortlessly beautiful yet also masculine. His body was like that of a statue, crafted to resemble the ideal man.
Wasn’t that what made him all the more dangerous? The way he was so easily able to stir such conflicting emotions. Even as Cy imagined wrapping his hands around Haven’s neck and strangling him, he also pictured what it would be like to caress that silken white skin under the pads of his fingertips, sending bolts of pleasure everywhere they touched. His mind unwillingly conjured the image of Haven’s mouth falling open, fangs elongated in arousal as he panted and moaned, all a result of Cy’s hands on his body.
Cy shook his head. He’d had enough experiences with vampyres during his thirty years of existence to know that fucking one, or being fucked by one, was never gentle, never enjoyable. Vampyres took and took until there was nothing left of their human partners but empty husks. They were incapable of love. As much as Cy liked looking at Haven, he knew the futility of it. The danger.
With nothing else to do, Cy curled onto his side on the floor and fell asleep.
Several hours later, he woke to his stomach growling in protest. How long had it been since he’d last eaten?
Haven looked up. Still seated, he likely hadn’t moved. “You’re hungry.” It wasn’t a question.
Cy nodded.
“I forget sometimes.” Haven rose, heading to the door of his chambers, and spoke softly to the vampyre guard on the other side.
Turning back to Cy, he settled again in his chair. “I’ve asked Sirene to fetch you some food. It likely won’t be anything special.”
“The same as the cattle get?”
Haven’s lip curled. “The same as the cattle get.” He turned back to his book, his face set in a pleasant, unmoved expression.
Cy watched him.I forget sometimes,he’d said.
“How often do you...feed?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Haven’s eyes shot up. He glared at Cy as though he’d just asked something incredibly personal. Perhaps he had.
“I feed when I need to. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“I know what can happen to a vampyre who’s starving. It’s not pretty.”
“You overstep,” Haven gritted out.
“Have you ever seen it yourself? I doubt it. A posh vampyre noble like you. But I have. I’ve been the cause of it. Is that something you want? To succumb to madness like that?”
Haven froze, his eyes desperately cold. “Stop,” he said, his tone emotionless.“That’s enough of your mouth.”
“Just curious if you withhold blood from yourself because of some better-than-thou complex or because you’re a masochist.”
“I said enough!” Haven whirled on him, eyes wild and vibrantly red. “Keep your mouth shut, slayer, or I’ll shut it for you. The sooner you put your head down and stop with this incessant questioning, the sooner you’ll find some sense of peace.”
“Peace?”
“Some sense of it, yes.”
“And you? Are you at peace?”
Of course he was. He was a vampyre. Heat rose to Cy’s cheeks. The nonchalance of Haven’s posture, the smooth set of his face, his placid tone… It sent a flutter of distaste from Cy’s heart to settle in his stomach.
Haven studied him, a curious look masking his features. “The questioning continues, I see. Such a change from yesterday. I’ve just given you advice, and already, you’ve chosen to ignore it.”
Cy persisted, testing his luck, his anger curdling his blood. “Do you like being a vampyre? Massacring human beings?”
