If I was in my right mind I would never back-chat the living dead, but I was shaking with fear and pretty sure I was about to pee myself.
Back-chat didn't seem bad anymore.
His face remained passive. "I am death to those who cross my path." My heartbeat picked up as if to emphasize the point. His mouth pulled into a grim line. "I do not deny what I am. I embrace it, but I have not come here to hurt you. I told you. I have already eaten."
I started backing up again. It was stupid me crawling back and he walking after me, but now I was over the initial shock, I couldn't get my body to stop. "Forgive me for not wanting to trust you, but your kind and my kind haven't exactly seen eye to eye." As I spoke I wasn't sure if I meant humankind or fairykind, but I was sure the relationship with the vampires was about on par.
His lips quirked then fell straight. "No. I suppose not. Would it help if I gave you my word?"
He stopped and held out a hand to help me up.
I thought about it and managed to stop crawling. My arms were tired, my ass was damp from being dragged across the forest floor, and I was pretty sure I had a spider crawling up my back. I sighed and tossed my head to get the hair out of my eyes.
"No, it would not help, but I'm tired of being on the ground, and if you're going to eat me I'd rather be upright with my head held high."
I clasped his hand and curled my fingers around his. They were rock solid, cold. He pulled me up and my legs wobbled, so his other hand snagged my waist to steady me. For a moment I stood, but was weightless. The sensation was unusual. I scowled and stared into the face of my vampire. He was older than me, not by much and he was ugly. Swept back from his forehead and longer than fashionable, his hair was coal black, and cut close at the neck. His eyes were red ringed, like he was sickly, and had a peculiar stillness about them. He hadn't blinked, not once since he'd first revealed himself to me. His eyebrows were thick and dark, as was the smattering of hair on his chin, which had a deep cleft. His brow jutted out from his face and his cheeks were gaunt, giving him a look of the starved. It was a strong face but one that did not appeal to me.
Straightening, I pulled myself from his grip and knocked his hands away. A faint, dry scent hit the back of my throat and my hackles rose. Swallowing hard, my eyes left his as I controlled the sudden urge to launch myself at him. To rip, bite and tear. A manic giggle bubbled in my chest. The thought of launching yourself at a vampire was ridiculous and suicidal, but my body was seriously contemplating it. He brushed the hair out of my eyes and I recoiled. He hadn't made a move for a vein yet, but he was a blood drinker, and I was full of blood. He flashed me a smile, and his chalky lips framed pearly fangs flanked by two smaller canines. They had run right out as he'd touched me. For a moment I was overcome. I stared at them, the spiky tips resting on his lower lip, a startling shade of ruby red. Everyone knew vampire fangs ran out when they were mad or bloodlusty. Which was he? Probably the latter, if he was mad my limbs would be scattered across the forest floor by now.
"You're going to kill me now," I said steadily.
I'd been through too much to deny that I was living on borrowed time. To be honest I was waiting for the hammer to fall. I would die there, food for the vampire-boy the fairy-boy was hunting. Breandan would return eventually, like he promised and find my rotted corpse. Would he be sad? Would he and the 'we' he'd referred to, lament over my body. Would they give me a proper burial? After all he had said I was like him, fairykind too. In my last moments of life pondering on how I felt about being named a demon, I did not feel disgust or fear, but sort of a resigned relief. I was no longer a freaky human girl, but a demon. My strangeness made perfect sense now.
"I am not going to kill you."
The vampire had spoken. It took me a while to realize he had, because my last words had been a statement not a question. And even if he'd interpreted it as a question, it was clearly rhetorical. I was living my last moments and the flashbacks of my life were about to commence, so the interruption was not appreciated. But since he'd spoken again I felt obliged to say something back, and I was getting used to conversations with strangers.
