Page 134 of The Cannibal

A drink.

It was either pink or clear, impossible to tell with the lighting.

Silas had his own, tipping his head toward one of the more comfortable seating arrangements.

I cradled my drink, sipping it as we settled on a curved sofa on the other end of the bar. The glass table was just as ornate as the collection of tasseled rugs overlapping across the room. At least over here it was more removed from the noise.

The drink was a lovely gin, a hint of blood, and a flower garnish.

I felt rather rebellious and unruly. Never would I attempt this at home, where most knew me by face and name. The feeling of being nobody was more alluring than the desire to be known.

“This feels like a place to keep secrets,” I said.

Silas laughed at me, sipping his drink and staring at the small lamp on the table. The red glow erased any sign of fatigue or stress in his face. It was the face of the brother I remembered, free-spirited, carefree. I always wished to be him, or to be a man, but it was all the same to me.

“Tell me one.” I cupped my drink with both hands in my lap.

Silas wore a playful frown. “One . . . ?”

“A secret.” I shifted in my seat. “Something you’ve never told anyone. Maybe not even admitted to yourself.”

“Quite the mood you’re in.” He took a slow sip.

“You can remove the socialite from the gossip, but never the gossip from the socialite.” I smacked his knee. “Now do it.”

“I never liked polo.” He shrugged.

“That’s all?” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m not sure what you’re looking for exactly.”

“I’ll do one, then.” I bit my cheek as I thought. “I still get toothaches.”

“Yet you deemed my secret weak?” he laughed, then stared off to search his brain for something. “I used to steal keys.”

“Steal keys?”

“I would collect them in a box. A compulsion. I think Father commissioned hundreds of keys for the keepers,” he laughed. “I’d steal them from anyone. It was just so easy. One swipe and it was hidden away in my little fist.”

“I’m surprised you still remember,” I teased.

“I remember the hand hitting my arse when they found the collection,” he joked.

“I used to eat rats.”

Silas grimaced and leaned in as if he’d misheard.

“I felt some way about feeding on Hosts. You know, when you move from cup to skin—it felt too intimate to me.” I shrugged, thumbing the edge of the glass.

“I struggled with it too,” he admitted. “Only in special circumstances do I find myself able to stomach it.”

“You and Alina both, then,” I laughed, but he didn’t.

We were both uncharacteristically quiet. The sounds of company surrounded us as we finished our drinks. Everyone was having moments, even us. We were just lucky enough to be here, witnessing it. Host, Vipera, humans—we all were part of something larger, even when we are small pieces.

It could be the liquor, but today my heart was sensitive. A bit too sentimental.

“There is no one else but her.” My last admission. “I don’t know what I will do if she leaves.”