From Slave To Queen (Athena and Michael) novel Chapter 39

Chapter 39

The silence is so thick it feels like it has taken on a corporeal form and has settled between us like a third person. We’re no longer just two people–or one person and a vampire–inside the carriage. Now silence is a presence, stretching its claws toward my throat, squeezing until each breath is harder than the last. My fingers keep twisting in my lap, knotting together over and over again. I keep going over his words in my head–that I disturb him? I’m not the one restricting his freedom or constantly threatening to end his life. I don’t see how I could possibly disturb him. And then there’s the issue of punishing me… Was he serious? Or just trying to scare me? I want to think it’s just a bluff, but by this point, I can’t recall a single time one of his threats hasn’t come true.

All I have to do is close my eyes to see the bleeding, mangled mass that poor girl became, or to hear the coldness in his voice when he ordered the head of the guard who wasn’t watching the cells to be cut off.

Cassian never makes a threat unless he intends to keep it.

I knew I shouldn’t have wandered through his wing of the castle, I know he hates our scent, and I left it all along the hallway, right up to his door… I hate those brief moments of bravery that hit me from time to time. What am I saying? They’re not bravery–more like complete stupidity.

When we stop in front of the stairway leading to the castle’s main doors, I feel panic rather than relief. Who knows what horrors await me once we’re inside. The words they told me at the Red Auction echo louder than ever in the back of my mind. No one usually survives until the next full moon, and I’m getting dangerously close to that deadline. Maybe today is the day when my disobedience leads me to that feared and yet long–awaited end.

When I step out of the carriage, still gripped by silence, I lift my gaze toward the castle and try to summon courage, because I was always ready for something like this to happen.

What does it matter if death comes by my own hand or by someone else’s? I’ve always been resigned to die once I reached adulthood. I’ve only postponed the end by a few weeks. And even so, though I try to convince myself of this, when the sound of the wind rustles the treetops in the garden, a signal reaches my legs–one that tells me to run. To where? I don’t know. Just to run.

That’s what I intend to do when I grab the heavy, deep red skirts of my dress, which will serve as a damn beacon of light. Behind me, I hear the sound of dirt crunching beneath Cassian’s feet as he lands. I don’t even look back when I start running -I don’t need to. I know he’s watching me with narrowed eyes, thinking how stupid I am.

I know it’s foolish, but I keep running. I race through the most familiar parts of the gardens, etched into my memory after weeks of pacing them nonstop.

“Elara, the more you run from me, the more fun you make the hunt.”

His voice echoes inside my head, soft as velvet and just as seductive, sending a shiver through every inch of my skin. My hands clutch my skirts tighter, I struggle not to trip over my shoes, and then I see that invisible line I shouldn’t cross. There, in front of me, stands the statue of Lilith, and the chiseled smile on her face seems to invite me to cross, to enter the gardens that have been forbidden to me until now.

“Maybe I should warn you that the most interesting hunts tend to excite me… And when that happens, I overdo it when I drink… It’s possible I won’t leave a single drop inside you.”

I could swear I feel his lips whispering those exact words near my ear, and a sharp turn confirms they’re just in my head. Cassian is only in my mind. For now. I’d better not waste time and just keep running. I cross every red line and enter those gardens that seemed beautiful from a safe distance during the day, but now feel dark and eerie. The statues, in this gloom, have lost their beauty. They look like monsters waiting to pounce. I pass a set of statues and small benches lit by moonlight.

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33

Chapter 39

A small arch of lilac flowers leads to a path of thick hedges. I stop, weighing whether it’s a good idea to keep going, to go even deeper. But I only need to hear what must be Cassian’s increasingly close footsteps to launch myself down the hedge path faintly lit by moonlight.

I can only hear my own breathing as I run. I hate this damn dress and feel tempted to rip it off, but I know that without it, the chances of catching hypothermia increase dramatically. I glance over my shoulder and see only lonely hedges. I turn left, then right twice, going deeper and deeper into what is undoubtedly a labyrinth.

“I never said what the punishment was, but I see your imagination has already done the job…

His voice only makes my pulse quicken, it feels so close I can’t help but glance back repeatedly, finding nothing. I need to get out of here, to see what’s on the other side of this maze. With luck, maybe it leads to the forest and I can escape–although thinking about it, in the darkness of night and the thickness of the forest, dangers also lurk. Now more than ever, I should be aware of that. The stories I was told as a child are no longer just stories–they’ve become real. The big bad wolf exists, the sirens that lure sailors to the rocks, the witches who curse.

If I somehow manage to make it through all these gardens and miraculously reach the forest, my fate wouldn’t be any better than what awaits me here. I should stop exhausting myself unnecessarily, running in this heavy dress, draining my last reserves. The best thing would be to stop now–so why can’t I?

I’ve never been a fighter or brave, so why am I insisting on acting like one now?

Death’s cold fingers brush the back of my neck, and when I turn around, Cassian’s deep, dark eyes are staring at me with unsettling intensity. The air I’d been holding in my lungs escapes in a shaky gasp and my heartbeat becomes erratic.

“I caught you.”

His eyes remain narrowed, reflecting the satisfaction he feels at any challenge–even one named Elara Voss. A small, stupid human who thought she could run. His lips curl slowly into a crooked smile.

“Running from me is stupid, Elara.”

The words are stuck at the back of my throat. I don’t protest when he drags my body to one of the solid hedges forming the labyrinth. It’s much sturdier than I expected. The coolness of his fingers still lingers on my neck, drawing small circles that do nothing to calm me–in fact, they only heighten my unease. The hardness of his chest threatens to crush mine. Every part of my body is in contact with his, forming a perfect cage.

“Tell me, what did that little head of yours think would happen tonight?”

His dark scent seems to intensify, wrapping completely around me and clouding my senses. If I already had trouble getting words past my throat, his scent certainly doesn’t help.

“Did you think I was going to kill you?”

One of his free fingers trails up to my chin and lifts my face until my eyes meet his. I dig my nails into my palms, trying to break out of this stupor–and I think I succeed, because the words–or rather, a word–slip from my tongue.

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