"I told you before that I do not like to repeat myself. I will this once because I understand you are American, and thus stubborn. My chest is healed. You will get up now and come with me."
I looked out the tinted window at the bright lights of the Prague central train station. I was tired, hungry, and a little dizzy from the amount of blood I'd donated.
We won't go into how my body seemed to hum every time Adrian was near.
"My stubborn American butt is not getting up off this seat until you bare your manly chest for me." I adopted the most innocent look I could muster.
He muttered to himself in a language I didn't understand, then yanked me to my feet, pulling me close with one hand while opening his shirt with the other.
"OK," I said, running a finger down the jagged raised white scar line that was all that remained of the wound. "You've impressed me. The next time you get a sucking chest wound, I won't worry at all. So now what do we do? And who was Sebastian? Why was he after you? Is it just a Betrayer thing, or did it have something to do with the reason you were in Christian's castle, which, incidentally, is something you've never explained. There's no time like the present, my mother always says!"
His hand clamped down on mine as I let my fingers do a little walking. "I can feel your hunger. You will get some food while I arrange for transportation."
"You think you can just ignore my questions and I'm going to let you get away with it, don't you?"
"Yes."
"You don't scare me," I told him as I followed him off the train, more than a little surprised to find that it was true. There was a bond between us that had me worried about him, heartsick because I knew that I couldn't give him what he wanted—freedom from the curse—but I wasn't frightened of him anymore. He might break my heart (where had
"I am more powerful, more determined, and infinitely crueler than you. You should be terrified of me. Do as I say without questioning me further."
I thinned my lips in annoyance at his high-handed manner, blinking owlishly in the bright overhead station lights. "What makes you think I'm going to do what you want me to do? What makes you think I'm not going to run to the nearest police station? Or to Melissande? You know, it's really not fair, you running off without telling her where her nephew is. She's worried sick about him."
"You will not run from me because you know that wherever you hide, I will find you. As for the other—Melissande's feelings do not matter to me," he answered, tugging me toward the lobby of the train station where rows of shops and small food stands lined the walls. Overhead, steel-ribbed glass skylights mirrored the people meandering through the station. I grabbed Adrian's sleeve as he headed for the ticket windows.
"Hold on a minute, Sparky. You haven't answered any of my questions."
His frown was a thing of beauty to behold, magnificent in its black irritation. "Sparky? First Ryan and now Sparky?" He shook his head, his eyes a blue so icy I swore there were little icebergs floating around his irises. "I am centuries old. I have sent more people to their deaths than you can possibly comprehend. You will cease referring to me as
I stood my ground. I knew if I let him get away with one single high-handed inch, he'd drag it out to a mile. "Answer my questions, and I might consider the request."
"I do not have to answer your questions. I am the Betrayer."
"You are also the Irritator, but that doesn't mean you can't be civil, as well."
He sighed the sigh of the truly martyred. "If I promise to answer your questions later, will you feed now?"
"Yes," I said, too aware of the growl of my stomach and the mouthwatering scents of a nearby food booth to deny his offer. "But you have to promise to answer everything."
His eyes went even lighter.
I pointed a finger at his face. "And you can just add how you do that to the list of things about which you're going to spill. I'd love to be able to change my eye color."
"Feed," he growled before turning toward the ticket sellers.
"
His head shook again, indicating he heard me. I couldn't help smiling at him as he strode down the long lobby of the train station. Dressed entirely in black, his long wool duster flapping behind him, his hair sweeping down to his collar, he looked like a refugee from an artsy, atmospheric vampire movie.
"Someone's been reading