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“This what?”
“Swing.”
“I thought all little girls played on the swings.”
“I had a tail, remember?”
“Ah,” he says. “I remember. And do you still have it?”
“I believe I do. Thanks to you.”
“Welcome.”
I bite my bottom lip. “You could’ve told me you’revoca. Or that you’re accessing my memories. Or that you built shields against Et’enne’svocamagic in my head. Do you deny it?”
“No.”
“They called you a faempire.”
“Who?”
“My ancestors.”
“They wrote about me?”
“Only one of them did. His writings are hard to come by.”
He shrugs. “I guess I’m not very popular.”
I laugh. “Now who’s the funny one?”
Nottuza chuckles and stands beside me. He grabs the rope of my swing and starts moving it, then comes around in front of me and tells me to lift my legs. He grips my heels and pushes me into swinging. I laugh as I sway in the air, closing my eyes, feeling the beauty of the night, the owls, and the flapping of bat wings heralding the arrival of Nottuza’s ride.
“Your calvary is coming,” I tell him, and open my eyes to see him standing in front of me, hands in his pockets, crescent moon hanging behind him.
I leap off the swing and land in front of him, digging my heels into the ground.
Nottuza caresses my cheek.
“You didn’t come here to chat,” I tell him.
“I didn’t.”
“Always on a mission.”
He nods.
“And unapologetic about it,” I add.
Another nod. “But never cruel. Not to you.” He licks his fangs. “Do you remember that night you asked me if I was hungry?”
The time he showed me he could bang me hard and make love to me all at the same time? Do I remember? Ha! “Vaguely,” I say with as much seriousness as I can muster.
“I was hungry then, and I am hungry now.”
If he were another notturno, with red eyes and drawn fangs, and we were alone, I would fear him. But I don’t fear Nottuza, even though he is clearly starving and asking for a meal.
I swipe my hair to one side and tilt my head, exposing my neck.
