bloodlust

7

Finding new nooks and crannies within the castle had become the one task keeping Feyre sane. She was sure she'd stumbled upon a lot of things she wasn't supposed to, but Rhysand had given her permission to explore, so she took advantage of that.

She rounded a corner into a hallway she hadn't frequented yet, she found that her footsteps echoed much louder in this wing. Curious, she sauntered forward, a torch she'd stolen from the wall lighting her way.

The end of the hallway dropped off into a pit deep enough that Feyre couldn't see the bottom, even when she got way too close and held out the flames. Nothing but inky, deep darkness peered back at her. Chills spread across her body as she realized just how easy it would be to fall and never be seen again.

A fleeting thought crossed her mind of throwing herself down on purpose, but she shoved it away. She wasn't that desperate. Not yet.

"Well, what do we have here?"

She spun, eyes wide. Before her was a thin, decrepit man. She held out the torch to illuminate his face, squinting into the darkness. He was stood eerily still, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Who are you?"

"I am no one of consequence, miss." The figure shrugged. A horrible feeling crept up Feyre's spine. Something was very wrong. The energy that came off the male was dark. She felt the undeniable urge to run.

It was certainly not lost on her how cornered she was. Behind her, the pit loomed like an open grave. The man stood in her path of escape, his stance wide. He made no moves to come closer, but the way his eyes roved her body made her nauseous.

"You're his little pet, no?" The figure asked her, tilting his head to the side. His voice was raspy and quiet, making him all the more terrifying.

"I am no one's pet."

He chuckled.

"Then what exactly would you call yourself?"

"A prisoner." The hand holding the torch had started to shake slightly, and she prayed to the gods that he didn't notice. She didn't want to reveal any ounce of vulnerability in front of someone like this.

"Hardly," the man smiled. "Here you roam, all alone."

She remained silent. He took a step forward, and she retreated, being sure to use her peripheral vision so as not to get too close to the drop-off.

"You are a pretty little thing," he spoke. "I can understand his interest."

"What do you want?"

"I want a taste," he hummed. Her stomach roiled.

"A taste?"

"I wish to know what would enamor a High Lord with a human."

Feyre needed to get out of that hallway. She was fully panicking now, feeling sweat bead at the back of her neck. Where was Rhysand? Surely, he wouldn't want someone to kill her. He'd ensured she was cared for. Feyre had to assume that wasn't for no reason.

"Let me leave," she commanded, ordering her voice not to shake.

The man chuckled again.

"Just one taste," he said, skulking forward another step. The flame finally illuminated his face, and she began to fear for her life. His skin was sallow, oily. His hair was slicked to his scalp with grease. He smelled like something rotten.

What was he doing here? Where had he come from?

Rhysand's words flashed through her mind.

"I'm not the thing you should fear in this castle."

Her skin crawled. He took another step, and she stopped, unable to move backwards anymore. She swallowed, her throat thick and dry. She kept her eyes trained on the fae male.

"Leave."

"You'll be fine," he said, his teeth crooked and yellowing.

Feyre lunged, attempting to run past him when he roped his arms around her middle, pulling her into his bony body. She thrashed in his arms, screeching as she kicked and threw elbows, attempting to get her off of him.

He was surprisingly strong for his stature. She struggled against him, but he held fast.

"Smell so good," he groaned, his tongue licking her ear. She gagged, her entire body revolting. The hallway thundered loudly, and she felt the man freeze, his body stiffening against hers. Power burst forth from the entrance of the hallway. She saw a silhouette she immediately knew was Rhysand. No one was as lithe and feline with their movements as he was.

"Release her," Rhysand's voice boomed.

The man immediately obeyed, falling to his knees with a crack. Feyre scrambled away from him and toward Rhysand. She ignored the logical parts of her brain that knew she was running toward the one who'd imprisoned her here.

When she got close enough, Rhysand grabbed her arm, pulling her behind his body as he stalked forward, nearing her attacker. Rhysand stopped before him where he bowed.

"Stand."

The male stood and Rhysand, without a word uttered, made a decision. Guilty was the sentence. He shoved the male roughly, watching as his feet struggled to find grip as his center of gravity went over the drop.

He screamed as he fell down, his shrill voice echoing off the stone. It stopped abruptly, and Feyre knew he was dead. She let out a breath, placing her hands behind her head as she fought to catch her breath.

"Thank you," she whispered to Rhysand.

"It's interesting," he said with narrowed eyes.

"What is?"

"How selective your views of murder are."

Taken aback, she just blinked at him.

"You condemn me for it, but thank me when it's on your behalf."

"I-..."

"Save it," he shook his head. "I don't care to hear what you think."

"You asshole!" she growled.

"Again, I don't care to hear what you think."

Feyre wanted to punch him. How could he have saved her and pissed her off so simultaneously? He had a true talent.

"Then why am I here?" She threw her hands up, exasperated.

"I'm wondering that myself," he threw back at her with contempt.

"You told me I could explore!"

"I also told you to be careful."

"How did you even know I was here?"

"You were mentally screaming for me," he scoffed. "Apologies for saving you. Next time I'll just let you suffer." He was so vindictive. She wanted to gouge his eyes out.

"You're impossible."

"Go to bed, Feyre," he demanded. "I'm too tired to handle you right now."

Her eyes widened. The nerve this male had.

"Handle me?"

"What would you call it?" He arched a brow.

Her lips parted, but she wasn't sure how to answer.

"Bed. Now." Rhysand dismissed her with a cold look, walking past her, knocking his shoulder against hers harshly. She stared after him, dumbfounded. She eventually stomped back to her room, positively fuming. It took her hours to calm down enough to fall asleep.