Of Fangs And Fury

Chapter Three

Caderyn

Without knocking, I stroll into Tahir’s bedroom. He looks up from the book he’s reading for a moment, then does a double-take. “Oh, Caderyn, I’m surprised to see you.”

I shrug. Brows together, jaw tight, I have my fits shoved in my pant pockets. “So… Delara.”

He closes the book and places it on his lap. “She’s really lovely, isn’t she?”

I move farther into his room. “I have to meet her in ten minutes or so.”

He squints, “Right. For the physical.”

My shoulders twitch and I frown. “Right.”

After a length of silence, he comments “Well, you look nice,” offhandedly.

I look down, if I wanted to look nice, this wasn’t it. My black cotton shirt has buttons from the collar down… I thought the buttons would be better, she could look one shoulder at a time. Then I just tucked it into black suede pants because I figured I’d be sitting for a while.

“She’s a professional,” I think he’s trying to be helpful.

“Maybe you should be there.”

“She said you were nice,” he replies slowly.

My eyes shoot to him, “What?”

“At breakfast. She said you were nice. That and, well, that she thought she offended you.”

I shake my head and push a hand through my hair. The rippling nervousness turning into that normal prickle of agitation. “Offended me because she became afraid? No… of course not.”

I grunt. “Maybe you should check up on her after this whole stupid thing is done, she might be shaken,” and I walk out of his room, slamming the door closed behind me.

‘She said you were nice’ replays in my head. Right, nice, when she thought I was a servitore. Cursing, I knock on her study door, even though it’s cracked open.

I see her by the window again, this time drawing the curtains. Her extended body shows her curves off differently and more of her skin. Her smooth and delicate skin, feminine and warm… I can imagine my hands gently caressing her, fingertips light as if I were holding a blooming flower.

She is everything I’m not. No, I am too hard, too course, too strong…. The definition of my muscles too obvious, my voice too rough, I am a warrior through and through. Too much like my father, I suppose. I take a deep breath to calm myself, but it works against me as I smell her unique blood and floral soap.

Struggling with the last curtain pane, she looks back. “Oh, hello! Can you…,” but her voice drops as her eyes linger on my face.

I know she’s supposed to examine me, but does she have to stare? As I walk into the room, I feel my jaw tighten as I try not to say something rude. Being a bit of a hypocrite, I mentally trace the curve of her chin, the small lift of her nose, the arch of her brow….

She clears her throat, “Prince Caderyn, can you please help me?”

My eyes flick to hers, the color an unusual green. Like the stem of a Summer rose or the glimmer of peridot, the Human in her. “Sorry?”

She gestures to the last curtain, “It’s caught, I think.”

I’m careful as I cross the room and try not to take notice as she steps away when I reach her. I quickly tug the curtain closed. “I would have thought you’d needed sunlight for this.”

Down the wall, she lights a lamp. She crosses me to light another. Back at my side, she lights a hand-held one on the desktop. “Sun can be too bright at times, washing things out. I need a more concentrated light, something I can control.”

She pulls on the chair and turns it at an angle. “If you could sit here, please, Prince Caderyn, this should work.”

I sit, careful to keep my legs wide. I close my eyes and try not to breathe through my nose. “You can call me Cade….”

I hear her stop mid-step. “Call me Lara, then.”

“I’m sorry about this morning, Lara,” her name falling from my tongue like honey.

I hear her breath catch, “Oh, Gods, no. I’m sorry, Cade, I didn’t – I thought you were another servitore.”

When she’d said my name, my heart kicks against my ribs. I try to focus on that… and of the scent of her skin, instead of the odd clinks and clanks as she moves her equipment. “Ah… this might be easier if you talk me through it?”

I feel her hand lightly touch my bicep for a moment, “Of course, whatever you need.” Her soft voice… so sweet yet intimate. Listening to her… her voice, her breathing, the prickliness of my agitation melds into rolling nervousness.

“I have a few things here that are going to help me give you a physical. It seems that you are in perfect health, and I’d like to double-check. If the blood disease only affects you in the known ways, that’s one thing, but if it attacks any other area of your body, that could mean something else entirely.”

Not really listening to the words, my heart takes her voice as music. In response, my muscles ease and my breathing slows.

“I’ll have to check your heart rate, the clarity of your lungs, how well you see, your ears, nose, and throat. The usual things, I’m sure you’re used to.”

Usually done with magic, so probably not. I nod anyway.

I hear her foot slide slightly and can feel her standing behind me. “After that comes the next part,” her redundancy showing insecurity.

I try to act like Tahir, try to act charming, “And what’s that?” but my voice is naturally too severe.

She clears her throat; I can feel the wind she creates as she turns to her desk. “Remember the micro-scope? Well, not only do I need to take a blood sample, but I think it might be extremely beneficial if I can… well, take a scale.”

My hands that had been flat on the arms of the chair fist as my whole-body twitches, my nails digging into my palms. Trying not to think of all the others who’ve torn into my body, I nod once. “Right.”

Focus on her voice, Cade. “My shoulders….” But then I feel something brush against my legs and I jump. Looking down, it’s a furry thing. “Uh…” then it mews.

“Oh! Sorry, that’s Catarina,” but then I see her hesitate from picking up the feline.

Her head tilts as the feline rubs against my leg again, “What?”

She smiles and looks at me. “She usually doesn’t like others.”

Her smile closes but doesn’t leave her face as she looks me up and down. Her face is so close to mine, I can smell… strawberries on her tongue. Brain losing all function, I somehow come to ask “Catarina?”

This sets her back in motion, picking up the feline. “Humans call them cats. I spell it c a t a r i n a.”

I give a ‘hmph’ of a laugh, “Punny.”

She giggles. The same carefree giggle as the morning, “I thought so. But I should probably put her in the bedroom for the time being.”

Oh, the sway of her hips…. When she slips back behind the chair, I close my eyes again. “So, what first?”

“Heart rate is fine, I’m going to apply two fingers to your neck, all right?”

I nod.

I can feel my pulse against her. She has a surprising amount of strength in her two soft, thin fingers. Too soon, her fingers are gone. “It’s a little fast, but I’m assuming this isn’t too fun.”

There’s a pause, then her palm holds against my forehead for a moment, then I feel smooth skin. “Are you always so warm?”

“Yes…”

“Good to know.”

I look behind me to see her using a metal object to write. “What’s that?”

She lifts it, “It’s a pen. It writes like a quill, but the ink is kept inside the metal tube.”

I nod once, “Hmm.” Once she’s done writing I ask, “Now what?”

“I’m going to listen to your lungs.”

But then nothing happens. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” she responds a little too quickly. “I just… well, let me try through your shirt fabric.” Then I feel something almost flat go against my back. “Breathe in slowly,” she instructs. “Then out slowly.”

I do and I do.

The thing moves to the other side, “And again.”

I do and I do.

“Sounds good.”

More pen scratches. “Now what?”

“I’m going to have you turn around and I’m going to check your ears, nose, and throat.”

I stand up and turn the chair around. Sitting back down, I realize I need to scoot closer to her because of the lamp light. Gods, save me, her blouse is only buttoned halfway, the curve of her chest right at eye level. Attento ora .... Cade don’t f**k this up, too. I try to focus on the silver thing in her hand. “What’s that?”

She looks down, “Oh, it just helps reflect light where I need it.”

“Hmm.”

As she leans down to look in my ear, I have to close my eyes. Not because I’m anxious but because if I look, my arousal will be impossible to hide. I feel her touch the tip of my nose.

Then she asks, “Open wide, please?”

When her fingers leave my cheeks, I open my eyes. She smiles reassuringly before turning to the desk, “Everything looks good. Have you had any issues with hearing, smelling, or tasting recently or in the past?”

“No.”

“Any illnesses you can recall?”

“No.”

“Which is normal for Vampires,” she comments more to herself. “And you’re how old?”

Surely that’s in my file, “Seventy-five.”

She looks over me again, “Really?”

I nod. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m only thirty-seven.”

I look her up and down very slowly. “Did the Half-Human affect your age halt at all? Vampires Mature at twenty-seven.”

I notice a flutter in her chest. “Luckily, that part worked out for me. I Matured – as they say – at twenty-seven as well, only ten years ago.”

“Aside from physically, how has being Half-Human affected you?” I genuinely wonder.

But she shrinks, pulling her notebook close to her chest. “Maybe we can save that conversation for another time.”

Damnit, “Yes, right. Sorry, Lara.”

She smiles a little, “It’s okay, Cade. I just need to take a little bit of blood now. I assume you’ve had enough to drink today?”

“Yes.”

She turns around and grabs the needle and vial. Due to drinking this morning, my vein is easy enough to find. It’s over as quickly as it started.

“So, what’s next?”

I can see her expression tighten, “The next part.”

I nod. “Well, it has to be done, right?”

“Right.”

I stand up and turn the chair back around. Sitting down, I whisper, “Just give me a minute.”

“Okay,” she whispers back.

But after a moment too long of silence, I start shaking my head, “Nope. Talk to me… this would be easier if you talk to me.” Body tight, hands in fists, breathing fast, I can’t calm down. “Say something, anything.”

“Okay…. Okay, okay, um. Well, why don’t you ask me those questions then?”

I shake my head, “No, not now. Just… tell me… tell me where you used to live.”

“Like, my old house?”

Yes, I would like that. Imagining her safe and sound and comfortable. With her feline and blood, reading curled up in bed…. “Please?”

I can hear fabric shift and I imagine she’s sitting on the edge of her desk. “Well, it was a tiny cabin, really, just outside of The University. I’d been in that cabin since I came of age… being the only female Scholar at the time, they didn’t have housing for me.”

As the words flow away from her, my body gets the hint and starts easing. “I had a small bedroom and bathroom, a big enough kitchen, then a nice living area. Plenty of windows… I hate feeling trapped inside. As you saw this morning, I have a ton of books. Luckily, they offered me lab space in The University so I could have enough space while I worked.”

I nod.

I can hear the smile in her voice this time, “I built Catarina a tree by the biggest window, I had an amazingly comfortable chair by the fire, and lots of plants to take care of.”

“Did you like the greenhouse?” I hear myself asking.

“Oh yes! I would love to spend more time in there.”

I imagine us there, me walking behind her as she looks at it all. “You should see it at night… Mother had it enchanted, all these floating orbs hover around the ceiling to mimic the night sky.” I would love to know her favorite flower. I make a note of telling Jasper to bring whatever plants she wants to her room.

“Maybe you can show me then,” her voice sounds hopeful.

I nod. But then I can feel her effect wearing off, me now getting nervous about spending time with her. “What else did you have at home?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “For a few years, I became very interested in painting.”

Listening to the sound, not the words, I finally found myself in a place of peace. In the quiet room, with only the sound of the flickering lanterns and our breathing, her voice is a high soprano that floats around me like curling smoke. There’s a unique quality, a slowness in the pace, which is very, very different from what I’m used to (with Mother, Tahir, and the other Royals). And maybe because she’s a Scholar, she’s careful with her choices, more thoughtful than passionate.

When there’s a long enough pause, I tell her very clearly, “I’m going to take my shirt off so we can continue.”

She doesn’t stop talking about her old home until the fabric is wadded in my lap, bringing deafening silence.

Her breath catches. Then, “Wow…,” as her gentle, little fingers run over the hard, cold gold. “You are….”

My shoulder twitches forward, away from her velvet touch. “Hideous?” I grunt.

“No,” she answers clearly. She puts her fingers on the scales, sliding forward so her palm is holding my shoulder. “You are magnificent.”

Delara

My fingers run over the scales, the intricate overlay of pure gold, that covers across his shoulders like armor, curving up to his neck, down his biceps, and following his spine. The flickering flames reflect across the metal, causing different peaks to shimmer and valleys to fall in shadow.

A rose has its thorns, and he has his scales. “Cade…” I whisper. My own body curves as I trace his spine. The scales get smaller and fewer the farther down I go, (his skin noticeably tanner next to them).

Instinctually, he leans forward. “Lara….” But his whisper sounds more like a whimper, and I retract my hand.

As he edges back up, I move the lamp to be parallel to his shoulder. The thickest part is right at the ball joint, and that’s where I see the most scrapes and minor dents in the metal. The easiest option, but the most painful for the Prince. My fingers slowly fall over his shoulder, down his bicep, to about an inch before skin. Here, I find a decently sized scale that’s reasonably supple. “Can you feel where my fingers are?”

His voice is low, gravelly. “Yes.”

“This seems like a good spot.”

His head turns towards me, “Really?”

“No one thought to take from here,” I say more as a statement than a question.

His right-hand lifts and his fingers push through his thick, honey blonde hair. “No.”

“Well, they’re idiots,” I try to laugh. “I found one that is big enough for the microscope and soft enough it should come off without too much pain.”

He nods. “Thank you.”

Having worked with Magicians and magikal healers before, I know how… thoughtless they can be. Thoughtless and harmful. “Do you want me to start talking again?”

But he doesn’t seem so tense. “May I… hold your hand while you do it?”

Ignoring my heart, my breathing, and every other part of my body that gives me away, I try and think of the right approach. Unfortunately, I need two hands. But…. “Turn the chair to face the desk.”

He does so. Gods, he’s gorgeous. I take his right arm and cross it all the way over, placing it on my hip bone. “I need two hands, but you can squeeze here if you need to.”

His large hand almost spans across my whole hip. I curve down to his shoulder. I notice his eyes close, and I don’t want to think about how he is more likely traumatized from all the past… events. I’d read the file given to me and now I’ve seen the lasting damage; what they had inflicted upon him was atrocious.

I hesitate, the tweezers hovering over his skin, “Should I talk?” I ask quietly.

He nods.

Placing my left hand over his heart for stability, I can feel how fast it’s beating. “So… I was actually a Foundling. The Scholars took me in not just as a student but as one of their own. For many years that’s just how it was, and no one blinked an eye.”

I finally put the metal to his skin, slowly and very gently curving the bottom of the scale.

“Then, once I started growing up… well, it became more obvious I was a female,” I laugh a little. I think I must have poked him too hard in the jiggle of my body because his grip tightens, some of his calloused fingers slipping underneath the edge of my blouse.

Eyes focused on the scale, I have to quickly think, don’t think of his hand on your side, don’t think of his skin on your skin. Do your f*****g job, get back to the story. “So, one of the Scholar’s wives suggested I be sent to finishing school instead. Argued that if they could take me in as a Foundling, invest all this money in my education, it should be that type of education instead.”

The scale is showing signs of wanting to lift but the top is not as soft as the rest. I bite the tweezers between my teeth and rub my fingers together to try and warm them up even more.

He squeezes me again, “Please don’t stop talking.”

Warm enough, I press them to the scale carefully, lightly. Then grab the tweezers. “So, for about two weeks it was discussed. What would be the correct thing to do with me, right? They didn’t ask me… who cared what I thought, you know? I’m just a female, half-Human, an orphan.”

Almost done with the scale, I sigh. His hand has slid under my blouse and his fingers start brushing my skin. I swallow hard but think of it like me petting Catarina when I’m stressed. The scale’s almost removed, I stutter, “S-so… finally, they had me take some test. If I got a high enough score, I could stay, if it was too low, they’d send me away.”

Scale loose, I don’t even see him flinch. I take a moment not to move or say anything just in case.

His fingers still caress my hip, “And? How high did you get?”

Admiring his face, he’s so different from all the Scholars I’ve dealt with. His thick, nicely arched brows are slightly furrowed, (more as if in thought rather than in pain). His high cheekbones compliment his sharp, diamond jaw. His cupid’s bow curves slightly as it comes to his full, blush lips.

I can’t help but smile. “I got a perfect score.”

After noting his heartbeat had finally slowed, I take my hand off his chest. “I’m all done.”

When I stand up straight, his eyes finally open. Golden, glowing in the fire’s light. “What? Really? That didn’t hurt.”

I hold the tweezers between us as proof.

His head tilts, “Wow….”

“Maybe when I’m done with it, you can take a look through the microscope.”

He nods and looks up at me. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

Suddenly, we both become extremely aware of his hand on my hip. He retracts it and I take a step back, into the desk. As I’d been bent, hair had fallen, so I tuck the loose strands behind my ear quickly. “So… you’re all done.”

His face grows tense, tenser than it had been since he came in the door. Almost… colder in a way, more calculated and impersonal. He stands quickly and instantly starts putting on his shirt. “Well, if you need anything else, you know where to find me.”

Heart caught in my throat; I nod.

He bows his head then exits the room.

After putting the scale down, I rub my face with both hands. What in the Underworld had just happened? Sure, I’d been around males my whole life, but ninety-nine percent of the time they either think of me as another male or actively don’t like me because of my Human side. A grand total of three times had someone been interested in me romantically.

Lowering my hands, I sigh. I’m being ridiculous. He’s a Prince, for Gods’ sake. First in line for the throne, actually. Even if he has the mutation, that doesn’t take away his title or his fate.

He probably has some Pure-blood female’s hand in marriage. I’m probably just here to help him become… average before the wedding.

But when my blink lasts longer, my eyes closing, I think of his hand tight on my hip. I think of my hand flat on his brawny bare chest. I think of his captivating eyes and distinctive golden hair. I think of the low tone of his voice, masculine, strong, and how it grew rougher, sort of gravelly when I was close….

“Fuck.”