curl of the tail of a scorpion that covered his right pec. On his flat stomach, slightly to the left, something Celtic spiralled down out of sight into his jeans. Jeans that sat low on his slender hips and revealed an inch of the black hip band of his underwear.
The rush was exhilarating, the instant tension in her body making her short of breath. Feeling herself blush, she was grateful for the darkness.
Feet now bare, he silently stepped over to the fireside chair and collected something from the mantelpiece before he sat down.
Removing a cigarette, he returned the packet to the mantelpiece, his biceps flexing with the motion. He ignited the tip with the lighter he had used back in Jake’s room, before discarding that alongside the packet. The whole process was smooth and well-rehearsed – enigmatically captivating.
Smoking was prohibited in Summerton along with every other pollution source, let alone because of the irrevocable damage it did to the smoker’s body as well as those nearby. It just wasn’t tolerated. But that didn’t matter to vampires. It had been proven that it had no effect on them. She remembered it was a clever argument used by anti-vampiric protesters to add weight to their argument that vampires were perfectly able to survive in pollution-riddled Blackthorn.
She’d always thought it a detestable habit, but there was something mesmerising about the way Caleb had ignited the tip with easy precision, drawing attention to his strong hands and competent fingers. And when he exhaled a steady stream of smoke through those entrancing lips, she felt an uncomfortable rush that sickened her.
She glanced back at the tattoo on his pec and wondered how many others he had marking that perfect, honed body. She silently berated herself but not more so than when he looped an arm around the wing of the chair, emphasising the strength in his biceps and forearms, his shirt gaping to reveal more of his smooth, sculpted chest.
His hint of a smirk told her he’d noticed and she instantly averted her focus to the flames.
‘You’re very quiet,’ he said after a few painful moments.
She kept her eyes on the fire, refusing to meet his gaze, the heat only exacerbating the sense of claustrophobia. ‘What’s there to say? I know you’re not going to let me go. Not now you know what I am.’
‘Then look me in the eye and swear you haven’t done a holding spell.’
She glared back at him. ‘Look me in the eye and swear you’ll let my sister and me go.’
It was only a slight smile but it was enough to make her stomach flip. ‘Whatever each of us claims, the other isn’t going to believe. I guess we both need to wait until dawn for the truth. And in the interim, we both know this is best kept pleasant.’
She couldn’t help but glower at the hypocrisy of his rebuke. ‘As pleasant as charming my sister into deceiving me, forcing me into saving your brother, sticking needles in me and locking me in a freezing dungeon?’
‘I’m sure you’ll excuse my lack of hospitality under the circumstances.’
‘There’s no excuse for what you’re doing.’ She lifted the mug to her lips and took a steady-as-she-could sip as she stared back into the flames.
In the corner of her eye, she saw him exhale another stream of smoke, his gaze, she could feel, still fixed on her as the fire crackled through the silence.
She feigned an itch behind her ear, using the motion to pull her hair over her cheek as a barrier against his scrutiny. She shouldn’t have cared how she looked. It should have been the last thing that mattered, but she still found herself wondering what state she was in – not just from the ordeal but from days of sleepless nights and overworking, let alone the poor diet and worry of the last few weeks.
She knew she should have been reassured by her unappealing appearance, not ashamed. But she knew it made no difference. It wasn’t the physicality of serryns that attracted their vampire victims,
The rush was exhilarating, the instant tension in her body making her short of breath. Feeling herself blush, she was grateful for the darkness.
Feet now bare, he silently stepped over to the fireside chair and collected something from the mantelpiece before he sat down.
Removing a cigarette, he returned the packet to the mantelpiece, his biceps flexing with the motion. He ignited the tip with the lighter he had used back in Jake’s room, before discarding that alongside the packet. The whole process was smooth and well-rehearsed – enigmatically captivating.
Smoking was prohibited in Summerton along with every other pollution source, let alone because of the irrevocable damage it did to the smoker’s body as well as those nearby. It just wasn’t tolerated. But that didn’t matter to vampires. It had been proven that it had no effect on them. She remembered it was a clever argument used by anti-vampiric protesters to add weight to their argument that vampires were perfectly able to survive in pollution-riddled Blackthorn.
She’d always thought it a detestable habit, but there was something mesmerising about the way Caleb had ignited the tip with easy precision, drawing attention to his strong hands and competent fingers. And when he exhaled a steady stream of smoke through those entrancing lips, she felt an uncomfortable rush that sickened her.
She glanced back at the tattoo on his pec and wondered how many others he had marking that perfect, honed body. She silently berated herself but not more so than when he looped an arm around the wing of the chair, emphasising the strength in his biceps and forearms, his shirt gaping to reveal more of his smooth, sculpted chest.
His hint of a smirk told her he’d noticed and she instantly averted her focus to the flames.
‘You’re very quiet,’ he said after a few painful moments.
She kept her eyes on the fire, refusing to meet his gaze, the heat only exacerbating the sense of claustrophobia. ‘What’s there to say? I know you’re not going to let me go. Not now you know what I am.’
‘Then look me in the eye and swear you haven’t done a holding spell.’
She glared back at him. ‘Look me in the eye and swear you’ll let my sister and me go.’
It was only a slight smile but it was enough to make her stomach flip. ‘Whatever each of us claims, the other isn’t going to believe. I guess we both need to wait until dawn for the truth. And in the interim, we both know this is best kept pleasant.’
She couldn’t help but glower at the hypocrisy of his rebuke. ‘As pleasant as charming my sister into deceiving me, forcing me into saving your brother, sticking needles in me and locking me in a freezing dungeon?’
‘I’m sure you’ll excuse my lack of hospitality under the circumstances.’
‘There’s no excuse for what you’re doing.’ She lifted the mug to her lips and took a steady-as-she-could sip as she stared back into the flames.
In the corner of her eye, she saw him exhale another stream of smoke, his gaze, she could feel, still fixed on her as the fire crackled through the silence.
She feigned an itch behind her ear, using the motion to pull her hair over her cheek as a barrier against his scrutiny. She shouldn’t have cared how she looked. It should have been the last thing that mattered, but she still found herself wondering what state she was in – not just from the ordeal but from days of sleepless nights and overworking, let alone the poor diet and worry of the last few weeks.
She knew she should have been reassured by her unappealing appearance, not ashamed. But she knew it made no difference. It wasn’t the physicality of serryns that attracted their vampire victims,
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