“You shall take my wrist then.” Her hand was shaking as she yanked up her sleeve and stuck out her arm. “Take from my wrist what you so obviously require.”
She did not look at him. Likely could not.
And yet here she was . . . shut down from a disgrace she had never earned and he had never meant to call out of her . . . still offering herself to him—except not in a pathetic way, but because she had been born and bred to serve a purpose that had nothing to do with what she wanted and everything to do with social expectation . . . and she was determined to live up to the standard. Even if she wasn’t wanted for who she was.
Christ, he knew what that was like.
“Layla—”
“Do not apologize, sire. It belittles me.”
He took her arm because he got the impression she was about to get to her feet. “Look, this is my fault. I should never have started the sex stuff with you—”
“A
nd I say unto you, ‘stop.’” Her back was ramrod straight and her voice strident. “Do let me go, will you.”
He frowned. “Shit . . . you’re cold.”
“Am I.”
“Yeah.” He ran his hand up and down her arm. “Do you need to feed? Layla? Hello?”
“I have been over on the Other Side in the Sanctuary, so no.”
Well, that he could buy. If a Chosen was over there, she existed without existing, her blood needs suspended—and apparently refreshed: For the last couple of years, Layla alone had been servicing the Brothers who couldn’t feed from their shellans. She was everyone’s go-to Chosen.
And then it dawned on him. “Wait, you haven’t been up north at all?”
Now that Phury had freed the Chosen from their rigid and confined existence, most of them left the Sanctuary they’d been stuck in for aeons and went to the Adirondack great camp to learn about the freedoms of life over on this side.
“Layla?”
“No, I do not go there anymore.”
“Why?”
“I cannot.” She waved the conversation away and pulled up her sleeve again. “Sire? Are you taking my vein?”
“Why don’t you go there?”
Her eyes finally met his and they were flat-out pissed. Which was a strange relief. Her meek acceptance of everything made him question how smart she was. But going by her expression now? There was a whole lot of something underneath the mantle she wore—and he wasn’t just talking about her perfect body.
“Layla. Answer me. Why not?”
“I cannot.”
“Says who?” Qhuinn wasn’t totally tight with Phury, but he knew the Brother well enough to bring a problem to the guy. “Who.”
“’Tis not a who, and worry not.” She pointed to her wrist. “Partake so that you are as strong as you need to be, and then I shall leave you in peace.”
“Fine, if you want to joust about words—what is it, then.”
Frustration flared in her face. “That is not your concern.”
“I’ll decide what’s my concern.” He wasn’t into bullying females, but apparently his dormant gentlemale had gotten off its powderpuff bed and found its knickers in a bunch. “Talk to me.”
He was the last person to put the share/care card on the table, yet here he was, slapping it down. The thing was, though, he wouldn’t stand for anything hurting this female.