Page 79 of How Does It Feel?

I quickly raised my hand to reverse the generous command but hesitated, and the lady’s maid left.

What was I doing? Feeding her? I should starve her. Get her away from me all the quicker. Still, I think it’s been a while since she’s had a nice meal—it will give her more stamina, which will provide more entertainment.

The moment the trial began yesterday, I felt nothing but pure relief, believing this roach would be dead instantly.

It had been a sure thing.

No one, not even the fastest Fae, outran the nocturneye with their tracking abilities, let alone a human with no skills, no strength, no magic, and no help.

“Food, sir?” asked the thickly mustached chef from behind the kitchen fire, startling me from my thoughts.

“No,” I snapped as I grabbed the nearest bottle of Faerie wine and poured it into a large glass.

I had told myself yesterday not to worry about my enticement with her. What was the point of worrying? She would be dead, and my people would be thrilled with me for the savage entertainment I provided them with. Only the latter proved to be true in the end.

I knew what she was.

I knew how trained she must be to possess such toned thighs. Even covered in filth, her silhouette was mesmerizing. No one but a trained assassin could possess such a figure. It was obvious she was chosen to be a trained killer because she was the most beautiful human created. Perfect for distracting and disarming.

I knew how successful she surely was in her position as a mercenary.

Never had I witnessed such a fast-working and clever mind as hers. They had most definitely trained her in the art of persuasion and seduction. Never had I been so captivated and enchanted in all my centuries. My suspicions were only further solidified when I watched her quickly alter her dress to avoid the tracking of the nocturneye. I watched her with pure awe when she knew exactly where to land the killing blow beneath the nocturneye’s wings.

She wished me to believe her a simple, insignificant human, but anyone that looked at her could see she was so much more than that.

When I witnessed my little pet lamb execute the killing blow to not one but two aged nocturneye, my intrigue evolved into something much more dangerous. It only made me need her dead faster.

A chill overcame my body as I ran my fingers over the small tooth that hung from my neck. The molar was hers. She had spit it at me in all her fiery magnificence in the blood room. I had pocketed it without thinking.

Then later, arguably still not thinking, I had it made into a souvenir to wear always. A memento from this enchantress to remember long after she was dead.

She could not live, but already I feared I would not draw breath without a part of her near.

A shiver racked my spine, threatening to unfurl my wings.

Hours I had paced the halls, attempting to understand how this maggot had wriggled into my mind with similar fervor as if she had impelled my mind. The foreign feelings she sent into my mind were severe and intolerable.

Before I had entered my bedchamber after the trial, I had wholly decided that she would be moved back to the dungeon. To the stone walls where her scent of lavender and honey could no longer trail along and blur my senses. It was admitting weakness to send her away, but I was without choice. Her pure existence had somehow infused my mind in a way I couldn’t tolerate.

But when I had opened the door and saw her lying on the floor of my bedroom under the duress of the other women, all I could think about was slitting their tiny throats for carelessly handling her.

I would be the only one here to touch her.

Even then, I had still planned to send her silky hair and soft flesh back to the dungeon. I would carry her myself if I had to and enjoy the last checked touch before she would be gone forever.

But then . . . then she had grabbed the candlestick ready to bludgeon me, and I saw a bloodthirsty fire burn like an unyielded torch behind her eyes—for me. No longer masking to be the lamb I knew she pretended to be. She revealed a murderous serpent every bit as dark as myself.

The thought of being the one—the only one—to control and feed that fire sent an absolute inferno through my mind, taking with it every sane thought I had held.

Then when her body had softened in response to me—when her muscles slackened, and the flame in her eyes settled at the touch of my hands—I was lost to her. It was as if a part I had never before utilized suddenly began to function. The thought of her soft, yet dangerous, body sleeping on the hard floor bit into my soul like a knife, and the next thing I knew, I was giving her a blanket—my blanket—to sleep on!

I was so distraught I had spent the rest of the night pacing the library, trying desperately not to think of the way her small hand imprinted upon my arm when she touched me. The way her fingertips felt as though they were lined with satin. If I weren’t careful, I would do something very, very stupid.

Like let her live.

The thought of her being gone already pestered me more than I could consciously admit.

I would not let her turn my brain into wreckage.