Read Hollow by Caroline Peckham Chapter 12 –
Despite my failures in this cursed place, it felt good to strive for something again. I’d hungered for an answer all these years and finally the forest had provided it. A boon which I had long underestimated, not realising how powerful it really might be until I’d bargained with a Hag for an answer to my dilemma. Yes, she had taken a wicked price from me in payment. But it had been worth the knowledge that the forest could be the answer to my desires.
It was strange that the answer had laid here of all places, because since the Great Hunt had begun all those years ago, I had often felt the urge to take part in it. Every fifty years as the Hunt approached, the pull had been almost irresistible, but what use would such a trial have been to me? Back then, I’d dismissed it, putting it down to the forest’s twisted magic, but perhaps it had been trying to tell me what the Hag had told me in the end.
After so long feeling lost, I was finally on track to my goal. The emptiness that had taken up residence in my bones felt fuller than it had in far too long. But something was missing even now. I experienced life like I was one of the Hollows, as dead as them inside but still moving, seeking something alive to sustain myself.
These past decades, the world had become a dreary artist’s palette of greys and darkest blues, set to depict a gloomy, soulless sky. And here in this painter’s landscape, I remained trapped.
My mind turned to the human girl and all her untamed desires. Ferris Creed. Life had likely been harsh to her – as it was to most humans. She didn’t have the roughened look of a land worker, but she was not so delicate in appearance as a seamstress. Those were common trades among her kind, yet she didn’t strike me as common. I could ask of course, if I cared to. But I did not.
“Henry?” Her voice. She repeated the name. Three times more in fact.
I didn’t know who this Henry was or why she was calling for him now, but she was disturbing the quiet. Perhaps she had named a dormouse and lost the thing when it scampered down a hole. They liked their pets, the humans. They lived shorter lives than even them. I supposed it gave mortals a taste of the immortal life. Watching their little friends die well before their own time came.
Ferris entered the room, walking over and snapping her fingers in front of my face. Ever so slowly, I dragged my eyes away from the blazing fire and regarded her.
“My name is Hendrix.”
“My mistake,” she said innocently, though she was sharp enough to have not forgotten it.
My jaw flexed at the creature staring down at me. She had chosen to dress herself in a silk gown, the navy blue fabric clinging to her body and drawing my gaze to the enticing curve of her hips. Her brown hair was freshly washed, hanging in loose curls over her shoulders and tumbling down her spine, caressing a slender neck which begged for the touch of roughened fingers.
The scent of apricot hung on my captive and anger coiled in my chest at her clear mockery of my imprisonment. Dressing herself up as a damsel, but the hardness to her eyes dared me to reveal her true nature.
I rose abruptly to my feet, knocking her back a step, but my hand landed firmly on the base of her spine and a taunting grin lifted my lips. I snatched her hand in mine, raising it high and yanking her firmly against me, forcing her to waltz with me, though her feet stumbled over my own.
“Let go of me,” Ferris hissed, alarm rising in her eyes, but she had started the game.
“You come to me dressed for a ball and you won’t even dance with the only other guest here? Tut tut, lightwing, perhaps a punishment is in order.” I let my smile drop, showing the monster beneath the mask, and she tried to pull back again, a shaky breath fluttering across her lips. Lips which drew my gaze and made me wonder what a mortal mouth would feel like against my own. Her kind were often obsessed with mine, our appearances far more appealing to them than each other were. But the fact she that was drawing my attention in kind invoked a deep rage inside me and I wouldn’t be tempted to take a bite. No female, human or Fae had ever had that kind of power over me. I was always the one in control, the one who could cut the cord at any moment, and that was how it would stay.
I forced her to spin beneath my arm and then tossed her haphazardly toward the chair. Her ass hit the arm of it, but she caught herself before she fell backwards into the seat.
“I’m hungry,” she blurted, a demand to her tone.
I arched a brow as she righted herself, chin lifting, determination sparking in her violet eyes. I took my time to answer, peeling her apart with the lingering look. Pretty thing she was. But she carried a burden on her. Perhaps just the weight of a mortal life, but it might have been more than that. A mouth as sweet as hers should have worn a thousand smiles, but I suspected it had worn less than she had hoped to win from life. Pity.
I supposed I needed to feed my bait if I was going to keep her living long enough to capture me a spirit. I turned my back on her, heading from the room with her quick reply following me.
“You’d better make it a feast. I’m famished.”
My teeth ground together. I couldn’t recall the last time anyone had ordered me about. I had a mind to spank her raw for it, but she would likely cry and if I planned on sleeping a wink tonight, I didn’t need the headache.
I passed through the kitchen where mottled stone and a seven-foot fireplace greeted me, then stepped into the larder. The shelves were full, practically overflowing with fresh produce. At least one of the Fae who had owned this castle had been granted the Art of protection, it seemed, because this place had not withered in the grip of the forest and neither had the food.
“Looks like you’ll have your feast then, lightwing.” I sneered, grabbing handfuls of bread and cheese, along with a basket of fruit and some baked pastries.
She had no idea who she was dining with tonight. Her little dressing up game had ignited the spark of madness in me and awoken my demons. If she wanted to play house with a monster, then let us see who would break first.
I stalked from the kitchen, making my preparations before returning to her dressed in a fine suit I’d found in the old master bedroom. My long hair was a mess of wet strands from a recent bath and the scent of jasmine now hung upon my skin too. Sweetness to veil the bitter creature beneath.
Ferris was facing the fire when I returned and I waited for her to acknowledge me. Perhaps she was lost to her thoughts because she didn’t turn and I managed to close in on her from behind, a prowling animal in the long grass with his gaze set on unaware prey.
“Tell me, how did you survive this long with wits so dull?” I uttered.
She didn’t whip around in alarm as I’d expected but kept her gaze on the fire instead.
“If you wanted me dead, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” she clipped, still not looking at me. My ire grew. Why did she not turn her eyes upon me? I was a male who made fiercer hearts quake than this breakable creature’s.
My gaze slid to where her fingernails were biting into the arm of the chair and I cocked my head, a dark satisfaction rolling through me. She was hiding it, trying to play the big bad wolf at his own game. Well then, I would have all the more fun unveiling the truth of her terror. Let’s see how long she could keep up this ruse.
I approached her from behind, laying a hand on her shoulder, her skin as soft as fallen rose petals. Goosebumps raced across her shoulder as my fingers dug in just a little and I lowered my mouth to her ear.
“Dinner is served, lightwing. You’ll join me in the dining room. Come.”
She pushed to her feet, forcing my hand from her, and I straightened to assess her. Small mouse, too delicate for a place like this. But those eyes. I couldn’t get past the spark in them. What kind of mouse held the eyes of a wolf?
I offered her my hand, a mocking tilt to my lips as I waited to see if she would dare continue this game.
Her jaw ticked, throat bobbing. This act would shatter soon enough. If only she knew who she was playing with, she would sob and claw at the windows and doors. She would beg for freedom but I would never grant it.
Ferris stepped forward and placed her hand in mine, my fingers closing firm around hers. My heart thumped quicker than it had in some time. Power had always been my favourite pursuit. She would bow to me this very night. And oh what a delightful thought it was to picture her on her knees, her eyes on me as I stood over her and her pleas for mercy filling my ears. She would make my time in this forest a less dreary task, a plaything for a bored Fae.
I led her to the dining room where long red drapes hid the deadly night from view beyond the high windows. The table was long and oval, but only two chairs had been placed there by me. One at the head – mine, of course – and one to its right.
I guided her to her seat, pulling it out for her as if I were some gentlemen and gestured for her to sit. She did so, eyeing the food I’d laid out with suspicion.
“Where did you get all of this?” she asked, frowning at the fresh cheeses and breads, then to the display of fruit beyond it and the wide selection of pastries which looked as though they had only recently been baked.
“Do you know nothing of the magic of my kind?” I drawled, standing close as I reached past her, lifted a bottle of red wine and poured us each a glass.
She shivered, just a little, but enough to draw my attention. I was pressed to her back as I leaned over her, and I couldn’t deny that the warmth of her stirred my intrigue. She was enchanting in an imperfect way. Only the humans could manage this kind of beauty. But she possessed a mortal allure that I had never witnessed in another of her kind. A part of me itched to explore it.
“The Fae are granted magic by the spirits of the sky when they reach maturity,” she said in answer to my question. “You call them Arts. Fire wielding, storm brewing, metal moulding-”
“Of course your kind would focus on the brutish Arts when whispering about the Fae,” I scoffed. “I suppose you tell tales around the fireplace of how your people have suffered at the hands of such power?”
She scowled up at me, not flinching beneath my scorn. “They aren’t tales; they’re warnings. We may have short lives but we have long memories and none of us will forget the horrors your kind have laid at our doors in centuries past.”
My lips twitched in amusement which I didn’t bother to share with her because we both held the same scorn for Fae who practiced cruelty with the Arts the spirits had granted them.
“Well there are plenty of other Arts besides flame and lightning. Like preservation.” I waved a hand at the bountiful table before us in demonstration. “Perhaps you should educate yourself further before passing judgement on all Fae based on campfire tales.”
“Perhaps I will,” she replied, surprising me again. “What Art were you granted then?”
My mocking smile flattened and I simply shrugged. “That would be telling,” I growled, ending the conversation.
She reached for her wine, but I caught her wrist, tugging her arm firmly behind her back before snaring the other one.
“Let go of me,” she gasped, trying to rise, but I didn’t let her. With one hand, I held both her wrists at the base of her spine, then took a coil of rope from my pocket and began to bind them. Tight. Enough to make her wince. I waited for a murmur of fear to pass her lips but it didn’t come and I couldn’t deny my disappointment.
I rounded the table, taking my own seat and lounging back in it, my knee bumping hers while my gaze fixed on her face. Yes, there was a flicker of uncertainty in those unusual eyes, but when her lips parted on a plea or perhaps some desperate questions, she snapped them shut again and pressed them into a tight line.
Interesting.
“You’ll eat and drink without your hands, I’ve decided.” I smirked, lifting a sharp knife from beside the bread and leaning back in my seat again to toy with it.
“How will I do that?” she scoffed, all anger instead of uncertainty.
I shrugged, then stabbed a wedge of cheese hard enough to pierce the table and she flinched at last. I yanked the blade free of the wood and brought the cheese to my lips, taking a bite of it. She wetted her lips. My hungry little beastie.
“What game are you playing?” she hissed.
“You’re the one who started it, lightwing. I’m just making up a few rules of my own.”
“I only asked for dinner,” she said innocently.
I barked a laugh that made her spine straighten, the sound entirely unfriendly. “You asked for more than that when you played dress up and made demands of me. You’re either a halfwit or brave and I can’t work out which one it is yet.”
She glared at me.
“Come on, eat up,” I insisted. “I didn’t prepare all of this for it to go to waste. You don’t want to displease me, I assure you. Those who displease me tend to end up choking on their own blood and this food will taste far better than that.”
“How?” she growled again.
“You know how.” My smile dropped to a callous taunt as I took another bite of cheese.
Silence.
Dawning comprehension.
Anger.
Yes, she understood now.
“You want me to ask for your help,” she sneered.
“No, lightwing.” I leaned across the table, knife speared with cheese a little too close to her throat. And still, she didn’t quake. I could tell her what I was, tell her the darkest secrets I knew and then she’d cower. She’d run too. But there would be no escape. “I want you to beg for it.”
I slumped back in my chair, grabbing a loaf of fresh bread and tearing it in two with my hands.
“Is this how all Fae eat?” she goaded, watching the crumbs fly as I tore into the bread with my teeth.
I swallowed and shed the cheese form my knife onto my plate, dropping the lump of bread onto it too. Then I tapped the infinity mark on my temple with the tip of my blade. “See this?”
She nodded, a frown creasing her brow.
“That’s the mark of an outcast. A Fae like me doesn’t attend balls and dinner parties. Not anymore. I’m one of the black sheep of Rivenspire. A Fae who pissed off the Coterie. So when I want to eat, I eat with raw abandon, because when you’re called a savage long enough, you tend to start acting like one.”
“Are there many outcasts among your kind?” Her eyes narrowed, suspicion rising like the tide, and I realised what might just be stirring in her mind.
“Hundreds,” I lied dismissively. “We’re not all honey and sugar, sweetheart.”
I moved to take a bite of my food when I was halted by a sharp command.
“Feed me.” She stared at me, hard and unblinking. Her tone wasn’t a plea as I’d requested, but I found my hand moving toward her lips in offering all the same.
She took a bite and I watched her mouth move as she chewed and swallowed.
“Another,” she demanded.
“Ask nicely,” I growled, holding the food out of reach.
Quiet.
One second.
Two.
Three.
“Please.”
My pulse hitched, that word a sin on her tongue. It didn’t sound submissive though, it sounded mocking. She was playing me and spirits help me, I offered her the bread and cheese once more. But this game wasn’t won yet.
I offered her the wine next, watching how her throat bobbed as she drank it and liking the show she was putting on for me. She was a more seductive thing than I’d realised. Every movement demanding I study her. And like this, with me in charge of every bite and every sip, I could.
I fed her grapes next, one by one, and slowly too. Her lips brushed my fingers on the fourth one and a low growl rolled up my throat. When I offered her another, her eyes met mine and she did it again, just for a moment, perhaps unaware of it, her lips skated against the pad of my thumb and sent a ripple of potent desire through me. My gaze slid to her soft lips and that ache grew, my body shifting closer to hers without me telling it to do so. Then I offered her another grape.
“I’m done eating,” she said.
“You’re done when I say you’re done.”
Ferris bit me, her teeth digging in hard, and my other hand flew out to fist in her hair.
She released me and I yanked to force her head back and expose her throat. I could practically see the thrumming pulse in her neck and I lunged forward and sank my teeth into that very spot, giving her a taste of her own medicine. She gasped, arching against her chair, but into me instead of away. She tasted like life itself, a heady concoction of wants and endless yearnings.
I leaned back, my hand still in her hair as I stared at her, almost nose to nose. Her breath fluttered against my lips, ragged and fearful at last, but there was still that defiance there. A hatred for everything I was.
“Why do you really hate my kind?” I asked with grit, giving no heed to her personal space.
“Because you take what you want. You take and take because you think you’re above us. You think because we’re mortal that we’re expendable.” The wrath in her voice was tempered with pain and at last I saw the crux of her. This was personal.
“So what is your plan, lightwing? You seek the forest’s boon to destroy my kind for good?”
She laughed coldly. “As if I’d waste the boon on revenge. I have deeper desires than that.”
“Then we are not so different after all,” I muttered.
“I am nothing like you,” she hissed.
I considered that and nodded. “You’re right, I am a hunter and you are prey.” I shoved the chair she was sitting on and it collapsed to the floor, my hand moving from her hair to grab her waist and force her to her feet so she didn’t fall with it. The clatter stirred up a tempest in her eyes and I smiled that villain’s smile I was so used to wearing.
I cut the rope from her wrists, tossing it aside.
“Run, lightwing. Run and hide. Because I am in the mood to hunt. And perhaps if I find you, I won’t feel so merciless. Perhaps I will change my mind on keeping you alive.”
I released her but she didn’t run, so I turned and flung the entire table over, sending food and cutlery flying everywhere. I turned back to her and bellowed, “Run!” and she stumbled away from me, nearly tripping over the chair behind her before she raced from the room as fast as she could go.
I stared after her with vitriol coating my heart, my throat soaked in it too. I wasn’t going to follow her. I just wanted her out of my sight. Because I hated her. Not for who she was but for what I wasn’t. For the mirror she held up to me. I wanted her to fear me as all others did, not look at me with those infuriating eyes which never dropped from mine in submission.
And yet… and yet, and yet… how I didn’t want that too.
