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She narrowed her eyes at him, her pupils flicking back and forth across his face as if to test whether he was genuine. He silently pleaded for her to see that he meant what he said.
"We'll see," she settled on.
He swallowed, an argument surging up his throat, but he decided it would be better not to instigate further conflict right now. Whatever she was playing at with her schemes about the frost and spreading rumors of a dark witch in the castle, he would have to deal with it without antagonizing Ianora, lest he complicate their relationship further.
His fingers twitched, his innate vampiric power coalescing at his fingertips. He could take what he wanted from her. He could force her to submit with violence and magic, as he had first planned to.
But after taking her on their wedding night, Castor had realized that having her willingly was the sweetest reward of all. That night, he had felt the thorny vines wrapped around his heart begin to open and wither, beginning to bare his true feelings to her.
Beginning to fall for her all over again, even when she hated him.
Castor had waited this long...he could wait a little longer for the chance of herwantingto be with him.
"I'll see you at dinner." Castor bowed his head slightly, then turned away, figuring that was the end of that.
Ianora cleared her throat. "Dinner?" She laughed. "No, I don't intend to fill up on all that wretched human food you've been trying to poison me with. I'll have a glass of wine delivered to my door this evening."
He glanced over his shoulder; this time, it was his turn to give her a wicked smile. "No, I don't think so. You'll be joining me for dinner. Human food, blood, something more exotic, that's up to you. I expect that you will be in my hall."
"Or what?"
"Or I will see to it that no servant or vampire in this castle is permitted to give you blood or let you feed from them on pain of death. Sooner or later"—Castor smiled wickedly—"I expect you will attend to me, unless you plan on dying." He turned away. "See you at dinner."
***
There were several dining halls within Castor's castle, but his favorite was kept hidden from all his visitors and kept for his use and his use alone.
Now, he would extend that invitation to share his private space with Ianora...assuming she chose to accept it.
The wide open space had a high-vaulted ceiling of wooden beams adorned with impressive crystal chandeliers set at even intervals. An immense fireplace sat on the far wall, with a painting of the castle hanging overhead. A table to feed a dozen was set for two on opposite sides of the table with colored plates and goblets, gilded with the finest jewels available within Elysium.
Castor eased into his plush seat, stretching out in the luxurious chair. He glared at the empty wine glasses, his mouth salivating at the thought of drinking rich maiden's blood, sweet with innocence. Usually, his goblet would be filled and ready for his arrival, but he had decided to wait for Ianora's arrival before indulging in his drink.
He wasn't sure if she would arrive. After spending all day investigating the rumor Ianora had spread about the dark witch being responsible for freezing the roses, he had come to some disturbing discoveries that he would have to confront her about directly.
Of course, she had spent that entire time avoiding him, causing chaos throughout the other palace wings while Castor was busy elsewhere in the castle cleaning up another of her messes. And he expected her to continue avoiding him for the next few days, if not weeks or longer, causing havoc.
But while Castor waited at his table, the candles flickering high above, he couldn't help but smile about the chaos she'd caused. For every issue she caused, it felt as though he was learning more about her. Before dinner, he'd come back from investigating the rumor to find her in his chambers, going through his things. When he'd confronted her, she'd given him a coy smile and batted her eyelashes before sauntering past him, all but a tiny thread of restraint keeping him from attacking those luscious curves.
And then there were the other times ... like when he found her in the library, which the overgrown roses had previously locked. Apparently, she had coaxed them and bribed them into moving out of the way so she could enter. Castor had found her there, flipping through an ancient tome about vampires. When he'd asked her what she was doing, she'd been indignant and claimed that she was investigating him.
"And what have you discovered?" he had asked, eager to know what she had found out.
Unfortunately, that was when she had slammed the book shut and stormed off. He'd chuckled, amused that she would bother trying to learn more about him through a history book rather than through a conversation. It only showed how stubborn she was, but he was certain that, eventually, he would get her to open up to him. After all, he had all the time in the world. And he intended to use every moment of it to learn everything there was to know about Ianora...even if it meant putting up with a little bit of chaos along the way.
In fact, he enjoyed learning more about her like this. In a matter of days, it had become a game they played, and he sensed that she felt the same. Once, he had returned to his study to find his bookshelves toppled over, his desk overturned, and all his papers strewn about the floor. At first, he'd been angry, but then he realized that Ianora had been the one responsible. And she had left him a note:
"I hope you're happy with the mess I made. I'll leave you to it."
There was no signature, but he knew it was from her. It was almost as if she was daring him to catch her, to put an end to her games. But he enjoyed playing with her too much to do that just yet. No, he would let her continue for a little while longer.
It reminded them of the long period they'd been courting, where they had played similar tricks on each other to garner the other's attention. Back then, her cleverness was part of what had drawn him to her—that and how she didn't shy away from a challenge, either.
He could sense it, that steep cliff inside his heart that he had fallen from so easily before. He hovered at the edge of love, shadowed by that hesitancy to make himself vulnerable again when doing so had caused him and Ianora both so much pain before.
Right now, if he jumped, he knew he would land in a bed of thorns below.
And yet, day by day, hour by hour, Ianora unknowingly dragged him closer to the edge, to the point where he was only holding on by the tips of his claws.
