Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Robed locals move through the tables, some with drinks, some leaning down to flirt with the patrons. Their robes are every color of the rainbow—and some I have no name for—and at least half of them are sheer enough to tease at the bodies beneath the fabric. The glimpses I get show bodies that are humanoid, but the proportions are slightly different, their limbs slightly longer and leaner.
Another time, I might find this whole experience a revelation. Right now, I’m too twisted up inside to enjoy the fact that Threshold makes me feel small in a strangely comforting way.
Maeve watches me expectantly, waiting for me to take the lead. I’m still not sure this is a good idea. I’ve shared partners in the past, have indulged in all manner of acts with both sex and blood. When you live long enough, the taboo ceases to exist, and “good” and “bad” are purely a metric of what feels good and what the people involved enjoy.
But I don’t want to hurt her. Not again. Her solution of me biting someone else circumvents the physical hurt, but that doesn’t mean it won’t emotionally harm her. It’s not something I’ve ever really worried about with a partner, and now I can’t stop analyzing the possibility from every angle. I already dimmed Maeve’s light with my carelessness. I desperately don’t want to do it again.
“Relax.” Maeve brushes her fingertips over my knuckles. “It’s going to be okay.”
Ironic that she’s the one comforting me. It’s a testament to what kind of person she is. When we first met, all I could focus on was the strength in her, the unwillingness to roll over and admit defeat. Now? Her softness is just as appealing. She’s filled with layers that I want to delve into and discover for myself. I have a feeling I could spend years at her side and still not have plumbed the full depths of what she’s capable of.
But we don’t have years.
The reminder sours my mood even further. “This is a terrible idea.”
“No, it’s really not. We need to question people who may have seen the Crimson Hag, but we can’t do that if you’re ready to rip out someone’s throat at the smallest inconvenience. You’ll feel better after you feed.”
She’s managing me, but I’m not certain if she’s wrong. Hunger is a dull throb inside me, hollowing me out and shortening my temper—which wasn’t great to begin with. I slump back in my chair and wave a careless hand at the robed people flitting between tables. “Fine. Pick one and do your negotiations.”
She frowns at me. “Don’t you want to pick?”
The only one I want is Maeve. Saying as much will only give her the wrong idea. I have no intention of drinking from her again. No matter how much my tongue aches for her taste, it’s not going to happen. It’s too dangerous. Telling her that will give her hope she can bring me around to her way of thinking. I can’t allow it to happen. More than that, I don’t want to waste what time we have left together by fighting.
“I’d rather you pick,” I finally say. Past partners have preferred not to be in the room if I feed on someone else. The sexual nature of my bite makes it too difficult for them if they’re not actively involved. I’m not certain about Maeve’s insistence that she’s fine with it.
But the truth is that I don’t want her anywhere else. I don’t want to bite anyone else. At least if she’s in the room, it doesn’t feel like I’m closing her out and creating more distance between us. It’s not something that I’ve ever had to worry about before, and now it’s all I can think of.
True to form, Maeve gives this the same level of consideration she seems to give everything. She chats with a few of the employees of the brothel, making easy conversation even as I grow tenser and tenser. I just want to get this over with, but it feels wrong to rush it after I asked her to take the lead.
Finally, she makes her decision. “Hyacinth, I would love to make you a proposition.”
Hyacinth is a lean woman with sheer purple robes that display her lithe form, giving hints of a graceful body while shielding the majority of her from sight. It’s an artful display of flirtation that she maximizes to her benefit. She sits on the arm of Maeve’s chair, curling one of her red strands of hair around her finger.
I want to bite that fucking finger off.
Hyacinth leans closer, her deep coral eyes lighting up with interest. “I won’t lie, the conversation has been lovely, but I’m eager to hear your proposition.” Insinuation laces every word, making them borderline obscene. She’s very good at her job, and she seems to enjoy it, but it’s impossible to say if that’s reality or just part of the act.