From Slave To Queen (Athena and Michael) novel Chapter 50

Chapter 50

Chapter 50

“He?” Naja bursts into laughter. “He can’t reach you here.” She takes a step closer, grabs my chin, and digs her nails into my skin. “If you don’t want to go back to him, we could give you a home. You don’t have to return.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re delusional if you think he can’t enter here.”

Naja doubles over with laughter, holding her belly as her whole body shakes.

“That’s what you want to believe, girl.” Her forked tongue flicks between her lips. “Could it be… you can’t resist being near him? Even the fiercest hearts seem to yield before eternal, unchanging beauty.”

“That’s not it. You don’t understand. Cassian is capable of burning to the ground the very land you stand on.”

“I know full well the gifts of our dear Cassian.” She raises an eyebrow. “Tell me–do you know mine?”

I remain silent, and once Naja realizes I have no reply, she waves her hand toward the exit, dismissing us. I lean some of my weight on Evanora as we walk back outside. Every time I leave Naja’s hut, it feels like I’m shifting dimensions–the air becomes lighter, and I can breathe more easily.

Outside, as Naja said, a festive spirit reigns. All the women are gathered, with floral crowns on their heads and pristine white dresses billowing with each gentle night breeze. Harsh voices, others silky and beguiling, some nearly childlike, intertwine in a chant that makes my body vibrate.

“I’ll get you something to drink. You must have a dry throat.”

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I say nothing as I watch her head toward a long wooden table, but the truth is, the thought of swallowing any liquid right now makes my whole body shudder.

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She doesn’t take long to return and hands me a cup of greenish liquid that smells like herbs. I take a small sip while we both watch a girl of no more than five years old dancing by the fire with the others.

“How do you reproduce if there are no men in the camp?”

“Have men gone extinct outside?” She looks at me amused.

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, there’s your answer. We simply go out when we feel our numbers are dwindling or we need reinforcements.”

“And boys never get born?”

“No.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Why?”

“The cry belongs to the females. Our race is intelligent–it doesn’t produce males who can’t carry the gift.”

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Chapter 50

I decide to stop asking questions for now, though it’s not easy. Every day brings a new revelation, and I still can’t believe all this is real and that I never bothered to learn more. I thought only those despicable vampires roamed among us, but it turns out there’s much more: fairies, shapeshifters, witches, banshees–who knows what else hides out there that I never cared to discover?

I feel the new presence before he even speaks, because, strange as it may seem, Eleazar is like a giant ball of fire that warms my back the moment he approaches from behind. Contradictory, knowing he’s a vampire.

“Ladies.

Evanora rolls her eyes and starts walking away, muttering a barely audible “leech” under her breath. My back goes completely straight when I’m left alone with him. If he notices, he says nothing. He merely takes Evanora’s place beside me, lifting a glass to his lips. I don’t know if it holds the same greenish liquid in my cup or something else I’d rather not identify.

“You’re still upset with me,” he says.

“I’m not upset.” I take another small sip.

“Yes, you are.”

“To be upset, you have to care about the other person, even a little.” I face him. “And I don’t know you, nor do I care.”

His lips curl in a sly, lopsided smile as he sips without taking his eyes off me. My body wants to shudder under the scrutiny of his molten–gold gaze, but I refuse to do exactly what he and his kind expect of me–as a human–to shrink, to fear, to whisper. So I stand taller and fix my gaze forward.

“Now I understand why he likes you so much. Your attitude explains why he wanted you for himself.”

I whip around, glaring at him with seething rage.

“I’m not his.”

“You are his feeder.”

“You can say whatever you want, but none of us belong to you. I know I don’t–not while my heart still beats with the disgust I feel for your kind.”

“There was a time when I was human, you know. I might understand you better than you think.”

“If you had been human, you’d hate what you are now. You wouldn’t be able to stand being alive,” I spit.

“So, should I end my life for being something I had no control over?” he counters. “I was a young man, like you, who was turned into what you see now. It wasn’t my fault. It was theirs.”

“And yet now, you do the same to others.”

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