Tromper (verb) to deceive

He thought me innocent. And maybe, in some ways—the ways he could see—I was.

But that didn't make me weak.

I struggled to find a reply. His lips were far too close to mine for coherent thought, and the sleeping draught made each one harder to articulate. I wasn't sure if he was going to kiss me or rip my throat out.

Although his question confirmed what I only hoped—despite his preternatural hearing, he couldn't read minds.

I struggled, but it was no use.

"Let me go, Bastien."

"I will," he said, "but first, I want an answer."

Had his men found something in my trunk that gave me away? Was this the end? Was that why he dragged me out here? To turn me over to the Witches of Darkness?

And what about Sera?

My fists clenched when I recalled the way his assistant had treated her.

Even though I wanted to tell the prince every terrible thing his kind did and why I'd given up my life at Proctor Hill to come here, I held my tongue.

I knew I was supposed to be submissive or, at the very least, fearful, to earn his favor, but I couldn't stop the humorless laugh that tore from my throat.

"You, my lord, are just as insufferable and pigheaded as your nephew."

I shouldn't have said it, but what was done was done.

The vampire's lip curled, and a shadow of the monster he truly was made itself known. The shadows under his eyes darkening. Fear rose inside me. I knew he wasn't allowed to hurt me, but that didn't mean he wouldn't anyway.

"And why is that?" he asked.

His kind were all the same. Self-serving and obsessed with the war waging outside the Conquered Territories instead of focusing on the people within their borders. He should be protecting innocent Witches of the Light from the likes of Shreesa.

"The fact that you are a prince with castles and guards and money, while I'm forced to sell my...my," my voice quaked, and my head swam, but I forced myself to say the word, "b-blood so my sister and I can survive, is what makes you insufferable."

My words came as sharp as the barbs on Mama's choker, even though I had to fight against the dizziness that word caused.

"Had my father not died in your war, I wouldn't be here. The gold you gave Sera will change her life, and that's all that matters to me." I drew in a steadying breath, then said, "No one put me up to this, but you."

The power of my admission had the shadows around his eyes retreating. It seemed I'd struck a nerve with my vampire companion.

"Now," I said, taking a more conversational tone, "are we going inside? Or are we going to stand out here and bicker like this? With your hand at my throat."

He released his hold on my chin like I'd slapped him before putting a foot of distance between us.

"I didn't mean to imply..." he started, then stopped. Searching the grass for an answer it wouldn't give. "You must understand..." he tried again, but that excuse fell flat.

I crossed my arms and jutted out my hip.

He lifted his gaze to mine, and I was surprised to see apology warming his icy eyes. "I hurt you."

I let out an annoyed breath. "You flatter yourself. It would take more than words to hurt me, my lord."

His eyes widened, and I wondered why.

"I—I just..." Bastien cleared his throat. "I've had over four hundred sanguine partners. Each one unique. Some witty. Some kind. Some half as beautiful as you." At this declaration, my cheeks warmed. He took a step closer. "But they were all of my choosing. This time, you chose for me," he said, his voice losing its apologetic quality. "I'm sorry for questioning you so sharply, but as you can see, I'm still furious."

Given the circumstances, it was hard for me to sympathize with him.

"A lot of choices were made for me, too. So, excuse me for not feeling bad about what I did. I'm doing what I can to survive in a cruel world. Next year, when you're done with me, you can pick whomever you want and forget all about me."

His lip curled. "Fine."

"Fine."

Nothing was said for a hot, tense moment. We simply stared at one another. Seething.

Finally, Bastien extracted a key from his pants pocket, and I stepped aside so he could unlock the door. He let me in before following after, closing it quickly behind us and securing the bolt.

By Diana.

What I found inside had me gasping all over again.

Everything inside the bathhouse was black.

The walls.

The candles floating above the rectangular pool.

The glassy black stone tiles decorating the ceiling and floor.

Even the towels laid out beside the steaming surface of the water.

All of it as black as a twisted soul.

The fine hairs on my arms rose as I took it all in, which was difficult because the candlelight provided barely enough light to see.

I didn't need magick to know this bathhouse was powered by demonic energy. The unsettling presence of dark magick hung thick in the air. Thicker than the scents of this place, which were unfamiliar and strange to me.

The sweet aroma not unpleasant, but I didn't want to breathe too deeply for fear of what it might do to me.

It was unnaturally warm inside, and I knew no wood stove was powerful enough to maintain this temperature and heat the pool.

This was the work of a demonic relic. One I very badly wanted to find and smash to pieces, but I felt...sluggish. The heat weighing on my eyelids.

I couldn't endure the sleeping draught's effects much longer. Not in this place.

I found the vampire seated on a small chair, removing his boots and socks.

He glanced up at me as I approached, and I stilled. Something had changed between us. I wasn't sure what, but after our argument outside, there was a shift in energy.

Not that I thought any better of him because I didn't. He was still insufferable.

His lips were pulled into a tight line, and his jaw set. Clearly, he was still angry. But it didn't make him any less striking.

No, not at all.

His deep, musical voice echoed in the small space. "Yes?"

I cleared my throat. "I'd like to do our feeding before I bathe," I said. Maintaining my calm despite the lightheadedness threatening to consume me. I had to be stronger than some stupid fear. "Should we get started?" I asked, glancing around for a good spot and finding none.

Bastien rose from the seat, barefoot, and slowly padded over to me.

He stood out among the darkness of the bathhouse, with his white shirt and straw-colored hair, and at the exact same time, blended in. Like he belonged in dimly lit places. Cast in shadows.

Removing the tie that had held back his blond hair, he let the chin-length strands fall loose around his face.

My throat ran dry as I watched his thick muscles flexing through his shirt.

"I need a moment to compose myself," the vampire said. "And I think you do, too."

I forced calm into my voice even though I was mentally screaming. It had to be now. "How many moments?"

Something that could've been mistaken for humor lifted one corner of his mouth. "Take your bath, and when you're done, stay in the water. Don't get out." He canted his head to one side, contemplating me. "I have an idea."

Dumbfounded, I gaped at him. Did he intend to see me in the water? It was dark in here, but still.

Besides my modesty coming into question, a long, hot bath would require me to take some of the telaryon root powder, which would counteract the sleeping draught for both of us.

I opened my mouth to argue, but Bastien raised a hand.

"You've chosen to trust me with your well-being for the next year, and now, while I won't go so far as to say I trust you, I understand your motivations for being here. So, let's not ruin the moment with debate."

Had my defiance earned me his respect?

Perhaps Prince Bastien didn't just want a soft and sweet pincushion to sink his teeth in. Perhaps he wanted a woman with a spine.

Maybe that's what had changed. His feelings toward me.

"I'm going to the steam room to shower," he said, grabbing a towel and tossing it over his shoulder. "I'll be back soon."

It looked like the vampire wanted to say something more, but instead, he ran his long fingers through his hair and stalked away. I watched him leave with a mix of emotion tumbling inside me.

Who knew how long he'd be gone.

I was failing, and I couldn't keep doing that. I had to get him to take the sleeping draught. I'd sworn an oath.

So, as much as I hated begging a vampire to do anything, it was my last resort.

"This room has plenty of steam, my lord. Please," I said, adding desperation to my plea. "I don't want to be alone here."

It seemed to work. He turned to face me. Concern etched into the corners of his eyes. "You're nervous."

Truthfully, I was irritated and tired, but he didn't need to know that. "A little."

"What are you nervous about?"

I rounded my shoulders and made myself smaller like I sometimes did when I was in trouble at home.

"I know you think I'm foolish, but I was raised to distrust these witches, and this place...is unsettling. I rather you stay."

Our eyes connected, and a warm pulse of heat traveled from the tips of my ears down to the base of my spine. My breath shallow. My thighs drawing closer together.

He knew what I was asking of him as keenly as I was.

I was asking him to stay here and bathe.

With me.

Question: What makes you want to comment on a particular line? Is it the drama of the moment? A piece of dialogue? A feeling that the prose evokes?

For me, it's always the really well written lines that make me want to comment. Or the funny things a character says. Or when they are being stupid and I want to call them out on it 🤣