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Haven huffed. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“You were shouting.”
Haven rolled his eyes, sighing heavily and brushing past Cy to seat himself in the small velvet chair in the corner of the room. “I’d appreciate it if you’d mind your own business, human.”
The air between them was tense and cold. Haven’s shoulders were drawn, his cheeks pale and color pallid.
“She said you’re not feeding enough.”
“That’s not your concern.” He’d taken a book from the shelf, slim fingers skimming its pages as he attempted to brush off Cy’s efforts at conversation.
“She seems to care a great deal about you.”
Haven’s brow creased. “She’s my servant.”
“It’s more than that. It’s personal. No mere servant would speak to their master in such a direct way. No master would allow it.”
“Say what you mean. You think I’m weak.” Red eyes flashed, leaving the pages to ensnare Cy in their gaze.
“I’m not sure what to think.”
“Then think nothing. Your opinion is neither needed nor wanted.”
It was Cy’s turn to huff in exasperation. The petulance of this vampyre. The sooner they got to New Avalon and Cy was able to deal with his true master, the better. Even cold-blooded killers were better than spoiled, pampered nobles. Ones with bad attitudes no less.
Cy crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the bed frame, unable to sleep but also unable to think of anything else to say. Haven had effectively silenced him, but still his mind wandered. His eyes settled on the back of Haven’s head. He watched as the vampyre slowly, deliberately turned the pages of his book.
“What now?” Haven hissed. “Look somewhere else.”
Cy blinked. “There’s nothing else to look at. I’ve stared at the same four walls for days.”
“Then close your eyes and look at the back of your eyelids. I’m sick of feeling your stare.”
“Unlike you, I’m only allowed this cabin! If you don’t want me staring at you, then leave!”
Haven burst to his feet, glaring at him with the heat of a thousand reignited suns. “You dare to speak to me that way?”
Cy’s lips sealed shut several words too late. Still, he held his shoulders tall and proud. Let the vampyre descend down on him. Let him try. Cy would fight with all his power. He’d use whatever he could as a weapon. He’d die with his dignity intact.
But instead of lunging, Haven just looked at him with distaste painted over his features. His lip curled, his brow furrowed, and he glared down at Cy and shook his head. “Why do I waste my time trying to tame a wild beast? One not even worth the effort. You belong to Thorne, so Thorne will be the one to break you. I’ve no interest in playing these games.”
With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the cabin, not looking back.
Two days later,they arrived in New Avalon, the home of the Bathory’s. Departing the train at nightfall, they were ushered inside a long black vehicle with a wide, expansive cab large enough to fit their vampyre convoy. Alimousine,Haven begrudgingly called it. It would escort them to Alnwyck Castle, while the transport vehicle behind them would take the remaining cattle back to the pens.
Shivering, mostly naked, the cattle were tugged from the back end of the train and forced inside the domed transport, the chains that bound them clinking together as they trudged up the ramp. Cy watched them in the rearview mirror. Eventually, the limousine departed and the cattle disappeared from view.
At Cy’s side, Haven shifted, twisting Cy’s chain between his slim fingers, his jaw held tight. He wished Haven would talk to him, tell him what to expect. But they sat in tense silence as all around them, the other vampyres argued amongst themselves over which of the cattle tasted the best. Cy gritted his teeth to keep from responding, from lashing out in anger. These vampyres were the worst of their kind: bloodthirsty and arrogant. Every now and then, their eyes strayed to Cy as they licked their lips and assessed him from head to foot.
He met their glances fearlessly. Likely, his bold glare only made them want him more. But he wasn’t afraid of them. In a different setting, he’d have already slaughtered them all and enjoyed every minute of it.
Had it not been for Haven’s presence, he’d have already been made into a meal. But as it was, he was protected in Haven’s grasp, however uncertain and tenuous it might be.
He wished he could see inside Haven’s head. If possible, the vampyre seemed even more drawn and pale. Always, he seemed to have a look of pained determination on his face as though he smelled something rancid but refused to say anything about it. Undoubtedly, it was his thirst.
“Haven’t had a bite of the pretty pet then, Haven?”
Haven’s eyes flashed to the vampyre who had spoken. With his hood down and head uncovered, brown hair fell to his shoulders and red eyes flashed expressively. He grinned at Haven from the seat across the aisle, exposing glimmering white fangs.
