A Cage for Hungry Hearts [COMPLETE]

26. Domare

When quarantine ends, it's dreadfully early, and Winston is still asleep. I lie in my coffin, frowning at the ceiling and aching with want. I'd crawled back in long after he'd gone to bed. Winston's not a peaceful sleeper. He tosses and turns. He speaks nonsense. He coughs. I hate that I find him and all his stupid human habits adorable.

His snores rattle deep and wet in his chest. Even though we argued, even though he's annoyingly loud all the time, I still like him. With every sleep cycle, his unconscious self seems to grow more restless, making the creature in the back of my head pace anxiously. I don't often like to acknowledge the more primal part of myself, but he brings it to the surface.

Was he so wrong to call me a monster, when I think of myself the same way? When my hunger for him steadily stretches the seams of my restraint?

For nearly an hour, I lay in silence, my mouth watering, my heart beating slowly. His scent saturates the room, a delectable balance of sweet and savory and....

Sour.

Throat dry, I climb out of my coffin and tug on the first pair of pants I find. The cold tiles sting against my feet as I stride down PLUTO's halls, ignoring the stares my half-dressed state draws.

I want to order a Blood Chai to sate my itching teeth before speaking to Grandmère. If I have to face her, I'd like not to do it on an empty stomach.

"Interesting day, Domare?" Dave asks when he passes me a paper cup from the coffee bar. His voice is steady, but his fingers are twitchy as roach antennas, and his eyes skitter over my bare chest like beetles. Predictably, he's made a guess about the whole thing with Alexander and decided I must be the culprit, but I'm not feeling confrontational at the moment. I offer him a disinterested nod before striding off. The half-shocked, half-offended sound he makes as I turn away is enough to make me smile, but my amusement fades as I draw closer to Grandmère's room, a viper of worry coiled tight in my belly.

"You're indecent," she says when she opens her door, before I can even knock. "Did you even brush your hair today?"

I resist the urge to point out that her hair is not in its usual state of neatness either. There are smears of dried blood around her eyes. Her voice cracks. But I value my life too much to mention it. Without a word, I gently brush past her to sit gingerly on the striped ottoman tucked into the far corner.

Unhappy to be ignored, she glares at me worse than the time I set one of her plants on fire. After softly shutting the door, she comes to snag my left earlobe between two of her sharp fingernails.

"You look ill," she says. "You must kill DeBrock today."

I grab her wrist, but she hangs on stubbornly. "Grandmère, let go or I will give up the ear for lost. It'll grow back anyway."

She releases me, flinging up her hands in the process. "You killed a nosfa! You're clearly at your limit! You need to eat! Now!"

"I won't kill Winston," I say firmly.

"You will if I command you!"

"You can't command me." I set my cup aside so I can stand and fold her into my arms. She's so much smaller than me, but it's only her shock that lets me embrace her. In the face of her ancient might, sometimes I forget that she can feel vulnerable. She trembles in my embrace, but she is delightfully warm. I hide my face in her hair.

"I am not betraying you," I say, "but I won't kill him."

She yanks from my hold. Her eyes flash red. "Listen to me, mon cher, you only think you like him, but I know you! You like the idea of a relationship, and he's the first true option you've had. You've convinced yourself that you have feelings for him, but you barely know each other. You think your precious tethermate can ignore what you've done? Don't be foolish! I know his type. He is human, Domare!"