Chapter 17
508 Words
"Lord Vasska."I hear Isolde say with a breathy sigh.
The steed pawed once at the stone as the figure dismounted with the sort of grace that looked unhurried but deliberate.
The kind of grace that said, I'm dangerous.
He stepped forward.
And the dock might as well have vanished.
Everything else did.
Vasska.
He wasn’t what I expected.
Beautiful in the most alarming way.
And eyes—gods, those eyes.
They went straight through me.
Locked on.
Unblinking.
Undeniable.
My breath caught.
Not because it was romantic or dramatic or any of the garbage Isolde probably dreamed of when she whispered his name. No. It was because his gaze was too still.
Too intent. Like he was reading me—not just my posture, not my clothes or title.
Me.
Wait.... reading me. Vampires did read minds... right?
His gaze was steady and consuming. Curious, almost. But not passive.
He looked at me like a hunter catching scent—head tilted, eyes narrowed. Like something he didn’t expect had just washed up shore.
《Look away》
It was the voice in my head again.
Why?~ I ask.
《What? Are you star struck? Avert your gaze you simpering school girl!》
“Cinder,”
The sound was like a stone breaking a perfect glass window.
It was Quinn. His voice was soft but sharp, like a knife behind silk. “Don’t hold a vampire’s stare too long.”
I swallowed, still looking at those... eyes. “Why?” I was like a broken record at this point.
He didn’t answer right away.
Then, low enough that only I could hear: “Because they stare back with intent. And they always take what they mean to.”
Something cold slithered down my spine.
He was trying to do something to me, that much was clear but it was like I was already caught in his t****l.
I couldn’t look away.
《You can and you will. 》
Those words...they settled within me.
I blinked like I’d just surfaced from water. Cold air scraped my lungs. My fists clenched before I could stop them.
He tilted his head. Just a degree. Just enough to say: ‘Oh, you’re interesting.’
Then he smiled.
Not wide. Not teeth. Just... deliberate. Slow.
The magic broke.
I clenched my fists in indignation. How dare! He'd just met me and immediately I was on the defensive from his unwarranted violation.
But I calmed quickly. I was already on thin ice here.
And then he spoke.
“Welcome to Erevar,” he said. If it was possible his voice made it worse. It was like melted butter and gravel. If it made sense.
Funny his voice didn’t go to the envoy. It didn’t address the Elders or my brother or even Isolde, who was practically salivating because of him.
He said it to me.
Direct.
Soft.
Intimate.
Like a secret, pressed between fangs and the skin of a throat.
I shudder. 'Fangs and skin of throat'
And I—I felt it.
I hated it.
- Writer
