Author: Kalayna Price

Nathanial met my gaze through the mirror as he grabbed bobby-pins from the sink. “Not an acceptable one.”

Okay, that was probably bad. But Tatius had sent an ambassador, not just demanded we return. “The ambassador’s presence means Tatius understands we might not have had a choice, right? Returning to Haven might be an option?”

His gaze dropped. “I do not know.”

“You want to stay.”

“I do not want you unhappy.”

That could have meant anything. I frowned at his reflection, but he didn’t look up and he didn’t elaborate. Once my hair was sprayed and pinned to the point I would probably have to shear it if I ever wanted to wear any other hairstyle, Nathanial took a step back to look over his work. I tried to turn, but he caught my shoulders. We stared at each other through the mirror.

The damned awkward silence was back, and I shuffled my feet, but I didn’t look away. “Legend says vampires cast no reflection,” I said, because I had to say something.

Nathanial’s reflection smiled at me. “Legend says mirrors reflect a person’s soul. Our souls are not missing. You said you found something?”

“More like someone,” I whispered, casting a leery glance at the walls around us. How could we be sure no one was listening?

Nathanial’s right hand trailed from my shoulder to trace the curve of my neck. His fingers left a trail of blessed warmth in their wake, and I forgot all about the possibility of being overheard. He leaned in, his lips touching the flesh where his fingers had been. A shiver ran across my skin.

“Show me.” His lips brushed the words over my pulse.

I’d forgotten to breathe sometime between his fingers and his lips reaching my throat, so when I opened my mouth, the only sound that came out was a gasp. My reflection looked surprised at the sound, and Nathanial’s eyes pooled with heat.

The glint of his fangs flashed pale against my skin. Broke the flesh. The pinch of pain immediately burned away as his mouth turned blistering hot and my eyelids fluttered. His gaze still held me in the mirror.

I knew I was supposed to remember something. There were things he needed to know. The thoughts escaped me.

There was only his mouth. His hands sliding over my body.

Those warm gray eyes.

Then I lost all that. Lost all sense. I was just feeling. Just pleasure. Ripped apart. Remade. Spinning. Dying. Burning.

Living.

The sensations could have lasted a moment or a million years. I couldn’t tell. Couldn’t care. But, as the waves of pleasure faded, I was left with twitching nerves and the utter feeling of darkness inside, as if I’d held the sun but it had been taken away.

I blinked. Someone was breathing hard. Making soft noises in the dark.

My vision cleared. Nathanial’s eyes—no reflection this time—were inches from mine, his mouth poised only a breath away. I could smell my blood on his lips.

“I should sit down.” The words came out husky.

The edge of Nathanial’s mouth twitched. He was so close I could only focus on one feature of his face at a time. Too close. Some part of me refused to pull away. Or maybe that was due to the fact the floor tiles were under my head.

Apparently a little too late to try sitting.

Nathanial was leaning over me. Close. So close. But not touching.

I wanted to be touching.

His eyes studied mine like he thought they would reveal an answer he desperately wanted. He exhaled, his breath washing his scent over me. His mouth followed the breath until his lips pressed against mine.

His palms, pressed against the tile on either side of my head, held his weight. Our lips were the only place our bodies touched. The world narrowed as I surrendered my mouth to his.

Firm but soft, his tongue parted my lips and filled me with the taste of familiar spices. I closed my eyes, yielding to my other senses as Nathanial’s tongue slowly traced the teeth between my fangs. He shifted his weight, breaking contact as he slipped a hand behind my head. My own hands, suddenly restless, moved to his arms, traced his biceps through his dinner jacket.

I thought he would kiss me again. I wanted him to.

Needed him to. But his brows creased as he studied my face.

“Are you really you?” he asked.

I lifted to meet his mouth.

Surprise flashed through his eyes. Then his fingers tightened behind my head. His lips pressed firmer against mine, his tongue demanding. I froze.

I don’t know how to kiss.

Nathanial must have felt my hesitance. He eased back, not pulling away, but no longer demanding. He nipped at my lower lip.

A startled sound escaped my throat. Nathanial’s lips pressed a smile against mine, and he nipped again, harder this time. Then he drank down my gasp. The kiss turned gentler, less desperate. His tongue flicked to touch mine before withdrawing. Teasing. Taunting.

Tentatively, I ran the tip of my tongue along his front teeth and discovered the impossibly smooth skin on the inside of his lips. Nathanial moaned into my mouth and my heart skipped a beat.

The next heartbeat crashed loud in my ears. Nathanial jerked back, leaving me cold and floundering until I realized the sound hadn’t been my heart but the door banging open.

The newcomer stood inside the doorway, but my eyes refused to focus on him. He was a shadow against darker shadows. Nathanial had moved away, but even in the dark, I knew where he was. Not by his smell or any other sense I could pin-point. I just knew.

The newcomer huffed under his breath. “The Mistress summons you, and you decide to make out on the bathroom floor?”

I knew that smarmy voice—Jomar. I growled, annoyed by his presence. No, not just annoyed. Angry. An anger so complete, it filled me. Filled every sense. There was no one source for the anger. It was like it filtered into me from outside. Baring my fangs, I hissed at him.

“Hermit, you drained your own companion?”

Nathanial stepped in front of me. “Get out,” he said, his voice deep, dark.

I reached for him as he moved, smiling as he glanced at me. I couldn’t see his features, but I could tell he wasn’t happy. No. No, that wasn’t good. I didn’t want him unhappy.

I pushed to my feet. My legs were shaky, and I swayed as I rose, but I kept my feet. I thought that should have made Nathanial happy—it sure as hell felt like a big accomplishment to me—but as I wrapped my arms around his waist, he stiffened.

“You enthralled her?” the Jomar shadow asked.

Nathanial jumped at the sound of Jomar’s voice, his body sliding out of my embrace.

I turned toward the Jomar shadow. Damn him. Everything had gone wrong since he showed up.

Without Nathanial’s body near mine, without his heat, his presence, cold saturated my skin. I shook.

So cold.

So empty.

So… hungry.

Color bled into my vision. Instead of a shadow, Jomar was a red shape, pulsing with warmth.

Warmth I wanted.

I lunged, my fangs extended. I didn’t land. Didn’t get a chance. Arms wrapped around me. Jerked me back. The door slammed.

“Drink,” Nathanial instructed, leaning over me, extending his wrist.

I didn’t hesitate. My fangs sank into his flesh. The first mouthful of blessed heat filled me.

Then I fell into his mind. I blinked, confused, as I stared down at the top of my head where I bent over Nathanial’s wrist.

Too deep, a voice whispered, drawing me away from the confusion.

Emotions tugged at me even as pleasure ripped through me from the fangs in my wrist—not my wrist? Guilt twisted through my body. Fear.

Would she understand I had not meant to do it? Would she resent me more?

She who? She me?

My throat convulsed, my fangs retracting. The connection to Nathanial’s mind snapped. I was warm. Sated.

And everything was wrong.

What was I thinking? What did I do? Why did I—? I backpedaled, scooting away from Nathanial’s crouched body.

My back hit the wall. I pressed myself against it. I hadn’t been thinking. I hadn’t been me.

I looked at Nathanial. Colors swirled around his head.

Strings of emotions coalesced around him. Emotions turned visual by my mezmer ability. So many colors, so many threads, but Nathanial’s face was blank, his hands loose by his side.

“Kita?” he whispered, but he made no move toward me.

The colors around him dampened, not fading, but becoming too discouraged to shine in bright hues. Only a single, sickly yellow strand kept its color.

I swallowed. The memory of his thoughts tugged at me.

But the memory of his flesh, of his breath against my skin, of his lips, tugged harder. Heat rose to my cheeks. I attempted to hug my legs against my chest. The thick tulle got in the way. I beat at it, taking my confusion out on the layers of material.

“Do you remember?” Nathanial asked.

Did I remember what? Him kissing me? Or me kissing him back? Me reaching for him? Needing him? Did I remember that for a few minutes my world revolved around whether he wanted me? Whether he was happy with me? My teeth ground together. What had Jomar called it? Enthralling?

“What did you do?” My voice cracked, the words ragged.

Vamp tricks. He used vamp tricks on me. But even as the thought sliced through my mind, I knew, I knew with my gut, with my whole body, that he hadn’t intended to. The question was, did that matter? And can I trust my gut? “That wasn’t me. You had to know, that wasn’t me.”

The muted colors around Nathanial’s head blanched. Then they filled with darkness. He shoved away from the floor, not looking at me. “Of course. It could not have been you. How dare I believe you would feel anything, particularly for me.”

He turned and the door slammed as he left. My stomach twisted. I wanted to follow.

I suppressed the urge.

Is it even my urge? My want?

Burrowing my head in the mounds of green satin covering my knees, I trembled. The memory of the echoed thought in Nathanial’s mind came back to me. “Would she understand I had not meant to do it?”

I understood. And I believed him. I might be a mooncursed idiot, but I believed him. What I couldn’t believe was me.