“Bite me.” The words c***k in my throat, coming out louder than intended and breaking the silence that settled between us over the past several hours. Luicien startles awake from his perch on the back of the bench and flops down on the seat at Klaus’s side.
He lets the curtain covering the carriage window slide from his fingers and leans back to look at me.
“Ayame?” he asks, raising a single dark brow.
“Bite me,” I say again, my voice normal this time.
Klaus’s gaze lowers to my hands in my lap. I force my fingers to release my skirt, allowing the blood to flow back into my whitened knuckles, but he’s already seen the way I clutched the material until my fingers ached.
Luicien crawls to the corner of the bench seat and curls up in a bat-shaped ball, wrapping a leathery wing over their
