Cassius
MY EYES WEREN’T USED to the dull colors around me. Gray used to be my favorite color—it masqueraded as something trivial and boring when really it consisted of a million different speckles of blues, greens, blacks, and even some white, constantly changing, shifting in its color—evolving.
Now, I glanced around at the gray countertop, the gray or what some would call silver appliances.
And I was bored to tears.
And irritated that something as simple as enjoying the visions in front of me, was suddenly gone—taken from me. Humans really had no understanding of the depth of color, and now I was realizing that first hand.
Particles of dust used to float in front of my face, pieces of moisture collected into the air, ready for me to use had I needed it.
Now, I sucked in air through lungs that by my calculations would stop working around the age of seventy-eight, possibly seventy-nine; it would be something simple that would take this body.
Morose thoughts clouded my vision—making it impossible for me to really see anything but my own demise, and the very simple fact that last week I had been different, I had been better.
This week… I was facing the greatest challenge of my existence, getting Stephanie to see me as someone other than her protector, her King, a monster.
I wasn’t sure what was typical. Did I wait an hour to go fetch her? Two? Maybe three? So I sat, my ass pressed against an extremely uncomfortable chair, and imagined a simpler time when I was able to simply force my will on anyone and be done with it.
The coffee Mason had given me was cold.
The ceramic cup cheap, breakable.
I think he meant it as a joke when he gave it to me. After all, it had some silly Vampire looking character on the front of it, blood dripping from his fangs. I scowled and turned the cup to face the other direction.
“She’s upstairs,” Alex grumbled from the corner. “You know, just in case you haven’t turned into a statue. Then again with a heart that cold…”
I rolled my eyes and stood. “I’ll see to her.”
Alex moved in front of me, his cat like eyes narrowing in suspicion, his fingertips pressed against my chest, it hurt like hell, not that I was going to actually admit to the Siren that he was stronger.
Because the very thought—the idea that he could end my life, when I’d spent the better part of mine protecting his kind—it didn’t rub well. It felt all too humbling.
Damn, I hated that word.
“She’s… fragile.” He retracted his hand. “Remember.”
“She could break my finger with a flick of her wrist.” I shoved past him, ignoring the already bruising skin on my chest. “Think of it this way, if I make her angry you’ll simply have to burn my body to finish me off.”
“Ah, fire.” Alex snapped his fingers. “I always forget about the fire.”
I didn’t. I hated fire. Fire represented my future—if I couldn’t get her to fall for me, to love me, just as I was—I wouldn’t just die.
I’d be burned alive.
While Sariel most likely watched.
With a bowl of damn popcorn. Buttered.
“Just—” Alex’s sigh grated my nerves. “Be careful.”
“I’ll do that.” I had no idea how I was going to manage being careful, that word hadn’t ever really been in my vocabulary. Being careful meant I actually cared.
In all my existence I’d only cared about one person.
Her.
And now the game was twisted, altered, some of my chess pieces missing, the board falling sideways off the table.