Reykon stepped in front of her, blocking her view and stopping her in her tracks. “Master Cain,” he said, with equal parts formality and warning.
As Robin peered over her shoulder, she saw the disjointed, haunting face that she’d glimpsed when she’d first laid eyes on him. A shiver raced up her spine.
Those red eyes flicked back to her, and she looked away quickly, glancing at Reykon.
“Where are you going, boy?” the vampire asked in a smooth, hypnotic voice.
“I am taking the subject to better quarters.”
“Ah,” he said, raking Robin over with his eyes. She wanted to vomit.
Reykon pulled her, and she moved closer to him, ready to put as much space between herself and the vampire as possible.
They’d only gotten a step away when Cain’s hand shot out, quicker than she could even see. She felt it on her arm, skeletal fingers encircling her wrist.
“Don’t rush. Let me take a look, boy.”
To her horror, Reykon let go.
She felt a momentary spark of betrayal. How could he have just handed her off, let this thing get closer to her? He was supposed to keep her safe from all of this.
Her heart started hammering in her chest, and she took an involuntary step back, stopped by the unbreakable grasp that the vampire had on her.
Cain had a smile on his face as he leaned in, inhaling deeply. He let out a featherlight laugh that made Robin nauseous. It wasn’t just that his skin, his face, his body didn’t look right. It didn’t feel right, either. His hand on her own was like being touched by death.
It was unnatural.
He was close enough that she felt the heat draining away from her skin. She let out a whimper as she felt his tongue, scraping along her neck, her frantic eyes looking to Reykon.
She was surprised to find that his were enraged. He was amazing at concealing it. If she would have seen a picture of his exact facial expression, she wouldn’t have been able to tell otherwise, but something in her just knew that it was anger. She could feel it, deep down.
“Master Cain,” he said sharply.
The vampire slowly came to a halt and turned his head. His body was unnaturally still, like stone. Moving, creeping stone. “Yes?” he hissed.
“Magnus is very eager for Robin to be delivered to him.”
That’s all? Robin thought in despair.
She’d seen this man take down massive wolves, and she knew he had to have killed more people than either of them could count. This tame, subdued Reykon was even more terrifying to her than the enraged one she’d met in the cabin. Where had his backbone gone? His fight?
The vampire narrowed his red eyes and then released her. A lingering smile danced on his face, and he watched her, as she moved quickly back to Reykon and down the hallway.
Only when they turned the corner did she let out a burst of air, her hands shaking. Reykon squeezed her hand, where theirs were now interlocked. He held a single finger up to his mouth, telling her she needed to be quiet.
She nodded, still in shock.
They walked down hallway after hallway, until she wasn’t sure how long the house (mansion) was. It was like a castle, with modern day lighting fixtures and bourgeois furniture.
After another set of stairs, and another long hallway, Reykon opened the fourth door and gently pushed her inside.
Her voice was a choked whisper. “What was that?”
“A vampire. Cross it off your bucket list.”
Reykon
He stood awkwardly in the room, staring at Robin, who seemed pale, shaken, and overwhelmed in every sense.
Reykon felt a yearning, a desire to walk over and wrap his arms around her, to tell her that it was going to be okay. The magnitude and urgency of the feeling shocked him and he scowled. There was no comfort for her, especially none that he could hope to give her.
Not after everything he’d done to her.
And he’d done it all for Magnus. Your Master, idiot, Reykon thought, turning away and busying himself with some papers he’d been given during the debrief. He wished that he could just pound his head with a hammer, to make those words stick. Master. Slave. Law.
He’d been so disgusted at Lucidia for breaking that law, and so betrayed by her dangling it in front of his face. Only the highest strongbloods liked their position. Everybody else had no choice but to comply. Telling him that it would be so easy to disobey, to throw all of that away; it was like tossing a steak to a starving man and then ripping it back.
But she’d seemed so certain that Robin was having a strange effect on her. And then, she’d hypothesized that the same thing was happening to him.
Reykon snuck a glance in the mirror. She sat, perched on the edge of the overstuffed, ornate couch, hugging her arms around herself. His heart wrenched.
Her bright blue eyes snapped to him, meeting his stare. He quickly looked away but could still feel her angry glare on him.
“I shot you,” she said.
“Yes,” Reykon replied, turning to her and leaning against the desk. “Three times.”
Robin narrowed her eyes. “Point blank…”
A smile tugged his lip up. “Strongbloods heal faster than humans.”
She looked away.
“Next time, go for the head,” he muttered.
“I should have shot you in the hotel.”
“Yes, you should have.”
She let out a long sigh and rubbed the back of her neck.
“Is your head okay?” he asked. The words felt weird in the air between them.
She glared at him. “I’m sure I’ll be in good enough shape for you to drag me out of here again.”
“That’s not…” he began, faltering off.
“Oh?” she asked in a snarky voice
