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I look up at him, a painting of red crimson dripping down his face and clothes.
"She's gone, Elva," he tells me. "She's not going to hurt you."
I blink a few times. "I know." Does he believe this was only fueled by fear? While that might be part of it, I would be lying to both of us if I pretended I didn't just want to inflict pain on her like they did to me.
Veil sobs, using her hands to try to wipe the blood from her arms and body, only managing to smear it around and make the mess worse. "What have I done?"
A sick satisfaction fills me, thrilled to know that with this one death, I've caused suffering for both the living and the dead. "You killed her." I shrug.
"No," she whimpers. "I... I wouldn't have. I couldn't have. Syrens do not harm each other. It is the first law of our kind, the only one for which the punishment is death."
"Perhaps we should send you home," Kairon comments. "Let them deal with you. I'm sure your queen will have some questions for you."
Devastation floods Veil's bloodstream. Looking at where she tossed the bloody weapon, guilt and resignation fill her, overshadowing anything else she might feel.
Seeing the same thing I do, Kairon picks up the dagger, throwing it out of the Syren's reach through the bars. She sobs, a near-silent choking sound, as she throws herself to the floor, eyes open and staring into space. Her mind is a maelstrom of emotion. One I have no interest in partaking in any longer. I let go of the hold I've had on her, though I wish I could remove myself from her feelings altogether.
My eyes wander to Kairon, just to find him already staring at me, fascination and maybe even a little fear within his raised brows and slightly parted mouth. As his eyes meet mine, his expression changes slightly, and I worry that perhaps he's mad at me.
Something fiery fills his gaze, and I honestly can't tell if it's fury or something even more dangerous. He has every right to be angry at me for hiding this from him. I wonder if he's going to leave me here with my victims or if I'm going to be his prisoner now that he knows how much I've deceived him.
His eyes traverse my frame slowly, cataloging every drop of blood smeared across me, the heat and anger in his expression a deadly combination. With a heavy breath, he grits out, "Upstairs. Now."
Twenty Five
Kairon
I not-so-gently grip Elva's hand, dragging her through the halls, desperately needing to get her alone. I drag her all the way upstairs, the journey far longer than it's ever felt before, until finally, we reach our rooms. I push her into my bedroom, all pretenses of trying to be gentle gone, slamming the door behind us.
Nervously, she takes a few steps away from where I lean against it.
"Kai-" she starts at the same time that I ask, "How?"
"It's hard to explain." She fiddles with her fingers.
"Try." I knew she was hiding something, but all this time, I assumed it was something personal, not that she could be harboring such power, keeping it from everyone in the castle.
"I can feel and influence others' emotions," she finally explains, easing her wild hair back from her face. For the second time in two days, there are blood splatters across her beautiful face, streaking through her blonde waves.
I supply the part she hasn't said out loud, "Through touch."
She nods. "I only need to touch them once, and then I can control them any time they're close."
All the pieces start falling into place. The market when she flinched at every person who grazed her, forcing her to feel every single one of their terror. Using Farhan and Tirriel's own obvious desires against them to become the exact person they wanted her to be so they would like her.
She stands frozen on the carpet, watching me for a reaction. I'm almost too busy admiring the way the scarlet liquid runs down her cheek. Part of me is so captivated by her delicious violence, the way she exacted her revenge without lifting a finger. But the other part of me, the one I'm usually too proud to admit exists, is slightly afraid of her.
I've never been afraid of anything. And yet, in less than 48 hours, I've found myself afraid of losing her and then afraid of what she might do to me.
And I've never needed to have someone as severely as I do my powerful, maniacal Elva. Damn the consequences.
Slowly, finger by finger, I remove a glove as I ask her more questions, my curiosity about her abilities getting the best of me. "You were willing to touch Maren, Colm, and Tirriel. Why?"
Her eyes are locked on my hands, trepidation and lust taking over her expression. "Doesn't work on Fae, apparently."
"And the others?" The glove hits the floor in front of me before I start working on the other.
"I needed to be able to manipulate them," she admits, licking her lips as she continues staring at my now bare hand. It aches to feel her skin, to grip her soft hair, to bring her pleasure unlike anything she's ever known.
