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Shivers raced down her spine at Ataen’s words. She bit her lip to keep from replying, I know.
“Now, now, Jac,” Lucan intervened, stepping close until Elarian was surrounded by the two vampires. “Kittens are still learning where their claws are. She would eat you up and spit you back up before you could even touch her. Isn’t that right, my deadly plaything?”
Elarian’s thighs clenched at his words. Emboldened, she stood and leveled her gaze with Lord Ataen.
“Make no mistake, my lord,” she said evenly. “We may both have fucked Lucan, but only one of us will kill him.”
To her surprise, Ataen threw his head back, howling with laughter. He stumbled until he caught himself on the bedpost, chest heaving as Lucan joined him. Their fangs flashed in the witchlights with their mirth. Elarian stared at Lucan, consumed by the thought of his lips at her throat, wet with her silvery blood.
“Goddess Below, you may have finally met your match, Luc! I doubt she sucks cock as well as I do, but she’s just as ruthless as you.”
Ataen kept laughing, chest heaving as the bed shook beneath his grasp. Elarian blushed at his words. Ruthless. The word calmed her addled thoughts.
“Hmm, that is true,” Lucan replied, now composed as regally as ever. “That mouth of yours might have been the only thing to save your life all those years ago. This one, though…well, she performs masterfully in so many ways.”
Grabbing Elarian by the arm, he pulled her close. “Enjoy yourself, darling. Consider this a treat for a job well done.”
With that, Lucan turned and swept out of the room before either Ataen or Elarian could reply.
Lord Ataen quickly found a seat. He sprawled across one of the velvet chairs beside the fire as though he owned Lucan’s chambers. One boot rested upon the carved arm while the other swung lazily through the air. He reached for the abandoned bowl of peaches, frowned after taking one bite, then promptly tossed the remainder into the glowing embers at his side.
“How can you stand eating this?”
Elarian arched one pale brow. “You've never had a peach?”
“Oh, I’ve had peaches.” He grimaced. “I’d simply forgotten how profoundly disappointing they are.”
Silence settled between them. Elarian was loath to admit that she, too, now found peaches profoundly disappointing.
Ataen drummed thick fingers against the arm of the chair before sighing dramatically.
“You know…” He glanced toward her, brow furrowed beneath his blazing red hair flowing loosely around his wide frame. “You’re considerably less murderous than Luc made you sound.”
Elarian rounded the bed, taking in full view of Lord Ataen before replying, “I killed someone last night. Easily. Without silver.”
“I know.” A grin spread over his face, the pale scar snaking across his jawline catching in the witchlights. “Yet here I am. Still breathing.”
“You don’t breathe.”
“I can if I want to.”
Despite herself, the corner of Elarian’s mouth quivered. She looked away before Ataen could notice.
“Oh, Goddess Below!” He leaned forward, resting one elbow over his knee. “You smiled. Don’t tell me you’re softening that quickly on me, kitten.”
“I did not. And I’m not a kitten.”
“You absolutely did.” Ataen’s crimson eyes sparkled with delight, grin stretched wide with the unrestrained delight of a raven discovering carrion.
Elarian huffed and walked closer until she could touch the vampire lord taunting her. Weaponless, she merely shoved a finger in his broad chest.
“I breathed. I would rather feed my own eyeballs to the fey wolves than ever consider one of you amusing.”
“Truly, kitten? If that’s the story you want to stick with.”
Ataen settled back in his chair, that lazy air of being entirely undisturbed by the assassin before him returning once more. He reached for a goblet of bloodwine from the side table, swirling it once before downing it in one gulp. Elarian licked her lips without thought.
“I like you,” he said after setting the empty crystal down. “You keep threatening to kill my oldest friend.”
