Equally rotten is the feeling that accompanies thinking of Amber in such conditions. Either in the human world or Marr’s. She’s tiny, breakable. I nearly crushed her with my body in the dungeon. The way she wiggled like a rabbit with a broken leg made me want to crush her that much more.
I scowled. What do I care if she’s breakable? That rude little brat is mouthy with me, and only because her sister is married to my brother. My brother, theking, who can pardon her for anything he wishes to pardon her for. Should she get swept up in that bubble of protection, I’ll be sure to be the one to pop it.
However I see fit.
My upper lip twitches. I twist the doorknob and march into the room, immediately tapping my chest to check for my necklace. The jewel lies against my sternum. As per usual.
Confidence encourages me to approach the bedroom doorway. The door is cracked and I can see inside, though I choose instead to wander toward the veranda doors. It’s a glorious day. Sunlight streams through the stained-glass windows, illuminating the table in patchwork orange, pink, red, blue.
Conflicting colors glow on the mahogany wood much like the impatience in my gut. “Amber?”
The bedsheets rustle. A sleepy sigh follows. The softest groan accompanies the creak of the mattress.
I try not to look.
Instead, I pluck my pocket watch from pinstripe vest and sigh. “So much for being atrainedbloodbag.”
“Technically, this is early for you.” She stands in the doorway with her eyes closed, hair tousled, lips parted with a pink hue that makes me hungry. “Or late. Whatever.”
She yawns.
I bite back the urge to dash across the room. Gorgeous or not when she wakes, she’s a thorn in my side. “You need to eat.”
She peels her eyes open and blinks a few times, squinting against the ample light pouring into the room. She raises her hand, casting a shadow over her soft features. “Is that... sausage?”
“And bacon. Eggs. Toast.” I gesture to the two mugs. “I wasn’t sure if you preferred coffee or tea. You should have told me last night.”
“There were a lot of thingsyoushould have done last night.”
I speak through gritted teeth. It’s too early to get into a spat with my bloodbag about her manners. I’m also in need of feeding.
But first… “You’ve got hips, so you’ve been accustomed to eating decently where you came from. But you haven’t a damn hint of color in your skin. You need pigment. You need to be nourished.” I pointed at the table. “You need protein. Sit down andeat.”
Suspicion stings her gaze. Either she’s cringing at the light or my tone—or perhaps it’s some combination of the two. I’ve attempted to penetrate her mind while my fangs aren’t driven into her skin and it’s harder than breaking into an iron maiden with a sewing needle.
She’s all steel. She’s carved edges. She’s rough.
Yet she’s so delicate too.
I can’t quite place exactly how she can be such a conundrum when she decides to tighten her silk robe around her shoulders and bow her head. She settles in at the table, lifts the coffee mug, and takes a sip.
“Oh,” she whispers. It’s like she melts around her mug. “Oh.”
“What?” I snap. “You’ve never had coffee?” I huff. “What’s that Jasper character done with you?”
Shame flickers over her features. There’s a ring of thorns clinging to my energy that seems to be grating her. She’s just awakened. She’s probably grumpy. I took plenty of blood from her last night.
Agitation returns tenfold.
I wouldn’t have taken so much from her if she hadn’t walked off like a cowardly creature seeking shelter from a wolf.
I straighten my posture casually. Is she thinking about last night again? Does her mind wish to return to my dark clutches as I sink my fangs into the supple skin of her tit?
My expression hardens. Well, she shouldn’t. Because I’m certainly doing no such thing as wasting my time on trivial memories.
“The coffee actually tastes good,” she whispers. “Thanks.”
I’m shocked. “You’re kidding.”