A Power of Old(9)

I pulled her body toward mine, sliding my hands around her waist. I didn’t care that we were out in the middle of the hallway, and I no longer paid attention to the disbelieving looks of the ministers.

“Ash, we’re in…”

“I don’t care,” I interjected.

“Okay,” she breathed as I lowered my mouth to hers. She lifted up on her tiptoes, and our lips met. It was a chaste kiss, but it was enough—enough to make me want to carry Ruby off to a room somewhere and let the trials, the ministers, the kings, the crowns, everything continue without me. If I could remain in Ruby’s arms, then that would be enough for me. It would be enough for anyone—kitchen boy or king.

“Come on.” She smiled dozily at me. “We need to get Jenney to steal you some appropriate clothes.”

I laughed against her forehead. “How do you know I don’t have any?”

“I just do—unless you’re planning on wearing an apron.”

“It’s tempting. It would really give the ministers something to stare at,” I mused.

“If that’s your only game plan, then I have a much better way of getting those results…”

Ruby pulled on the collar of my shirt, bringing me down toward her. She kissed me again, more deeply this time, her tongue nudging against mine and her hands winding around my neck.

I was too entranced to notice, but I think we put on quite a show.





Hazel





When the raised voices had died down, I leaned back against the bedframe in relief. I’d hated shutting Ruby out—literally—but I didn’t know how to tell her what had happened. I knew I would eventually, but I just couldn’t make sense of it myself yet. Honestly, I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to fully make sense of it. Now that the initial shock had sort of died down, other realities reared up to face me. How was I going to explain this to my mom and dad? What would happen when I returned to The Shade—would I be a danger to people? Also, more immediately, had Tejus known this would happen? Was this why he had asked me to stay away? And if so, why the hell hadn’t he warned me explicitly?

I recalled the shocked expression he’d exhibited when I first started syphoning off him. Perhaps he hadn’t expected it exactly, but the look of horror that had replaced it kind of indicated to me that he had known what had happened almost immediately.

Reluctantly, I accepted the fact that I needed to speak to Tejus. Hopefully he could answer some of my questions—and if he couldn’t, then I would make damn sure that he got the answers from somewhere.

I looked around the room, trying to locate my clothing. I found my pants and shirt, and then the black robe I’d been wearing for warmth. I wanted a bath, desperately, but I wanted answers more. Comfort would have to wait.

The hunger I was feeling had settled down into a dull ache ever since I’d been alone in the room. I expected that it would flare up again as soon as I got close to Tejus, but I was ready for it. I would have to learn to control it, or spend the rest of my days avoiding my friends and family in case I sucked their energy totally dry. I wondered if this was what it felt like to be a baby vamp… I’d witnessed the insatiable hunger that those new to the lifestyle experienced, and this didn’t seem much different. There didn’t seem to be enough energy in the world to satisfy me. I could only hope that, like vamps’ hunger for blood, it would fade over time—and that I would learn to control it, just like Tejus did.

Slowly, cautiously, I opened the door to the bedroom.

Tejus was sitting on the sofa, head in hands, surrounded by the devastation that Benedict had caused. The lights of the stones in the lock cast the room in ever-changing colors, suffusing with the soft light coming from outside—dawn could only be a few hours away. It had been a long night.

My instant reaction was to fly into Tejus’s arms to find comfort. It wasn’t a good idea. Not after what had happened last time. And I could already feel the hunger tugging at the corners of my mind, making me feel hollow inside and desperate to be filled.

Tejus turned to face me, his face bleak and gray. The sharp, distinct lines of his face seemed to be etched deeper, the hollows under his cheekbones more pronounced than I’d ever seen. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and I was once again reminded of the damage that the last trial had caused him, both physically and mentally.

I wasn’t the only one suffering.

“I’m so sorry, Hazel.”

His voice was hoarse and broken. It hurt me to hear it.

“Forgive me. I didn’t know that it could happen that way,” he continued.

Happen that way?