steps inside the chariot. The minions quickly disperse to place the items in a neighboring cargo hold while I follow in after Zein.
My breath is held hostage by the beauty of the interior. The wooden walls are smooth, black, and embellished with recurring silver traces of Cain’s pyramid. The benches look more like comfortable sofas that wrap all the way around the perimeter and are covered elegantly with several large golden seat cushions, embroidered pillows, and satin blankets. I am only able to make out these luxuries because of the dim glow from the center banister—a rectangular glass tank of water—that holds a handful of floating orbs emanating a bright red glow.
“Are you going to stand there all night?” Zein asks from the far corner sofa-bench, laughing at me.
“I could.” I sneer.
He gives a small flare of his nostrils as he motions for me to come closer.
“Who else will be joining us?” I ask as I sit a good foot away from him.
“No one.”
“I see.” The pounding in my chest won’t be letting up any time soon, I gather. It’s been this way every summoning night since the incident with Seriesa, and I have no idea why.
“My lord.” The voice of Narref echoes through the chariot from the entry door, “All is set to go. Ready at your leisure.”
Zein nods in a lazy fashion. “Proceed.”
There are two whacks on the side of the chariot and we take off into the air, the jolt nearly landing me on to Zein’s lap. Good thing I had planned accordingly and sat a foot away. It makes no difference, however, as he closes the gap himself, wrapping one of his arms around me—rendering me immovable. I freeze.
“A gesture this simple still makes you nervous?” he asks.
Now the pounding of my heart is frantic, and I know for a fact I’m giving off a very troubled scent, but I don’t know how to respond. He tilts his head slightly, studying my face.
“Tell me,” he says, sporting a serious expression. “What is the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of me?”
I look away and he turns his torso inward, resting his other hand against the sofa right beside my head, pinning me.
“Well...,” I gulp, trying to think clearly through the change in atmosphere. A dark image flashes through my mind. Vampire. Fear. Blood. Pain.
“Pain?” he asks, a bit taken aback.
Oh God, did I say that out loud?
“I uh…,” I’ve never been the lying-to-save-face type. “...Yes, but it’s just because of vampires in general. Not because of you.” I try to smooth my honesty over while trying not to focus on the memories that the thought of vampires force me to revisit.
He continues to stare at me—into me—almost regretfully.
“I suppose I should change that,” Zein says as he presses his body against mine in a tightening, relentless fashion.
A hand wraps around my waist and locks at the hip as his chiseled jaw lowers until he has me flattened against the backrest with his lips. Just like the last time, except it feels different somehow. It feels raw. Something alights within me and I kiss him back, latching my arm around his neck, pulling him closer. I’m mindful of his fangs as he lets me taste the inside of his mouth.
Like the turn of the tide, he becomes ragged, hurried, and engaged.
Zein lifts me by my waist, and I slide down the bench until I am lying flat. His kiss deepens while one hand has my hair at the nape and the other slides down my lower back. Breathing escapes me, drowning me in a mixture of surprise and desire—sheer ignorance. My body reacts against my judgment, reciprocating his affections. I run my fingers along his neck and through his hair—tugging and scraping the more he oppresses my sanity with his touch. Soon, it is warm, skin on skin; he slides the strap of my crimson robes off my shoulder to my elbow, all the while leaving hotspots down my neck—courtesy of his mouth.
I gasp as his kiss doubles back to my lips. One hand grips the back of my gown and pulls downward while the other pushes the hem up to my waist, exposing my thighs to the chilly air. His body further sinks into mine as he pulls his lips just far enough away to speak.
“I want you,” he whispers in French.
And that one, endearing affection—speaking to me in my native tongue—snaps me out of it. It reminds me of who I