The Cherished One by Carolyn Faulkner Page B

shut.  She was cooking and talking to him as he leaned up against the counter, arms folded over his chest, like she had done with Dag so often before.  She needed to keep her mouth shut, and somehow marshal her thoughts against him, too, although she knew that was a lost cause.
    “Yes, it pretty much is.  Your mind is entirely undisciplined.”  He surprised her away from being very insulted by his comment by dunking his finger into the marinade she was making for a steak she was thawing.  “You eat?”
    “No, but I like to taste things.”
    “Oh.”  She supposed she should offer him something to drink. She figured he probably liked red wine, as Dag did, and her family had quite an extensive wine cellar on one of the lower levels, but then she decided she didn’t want to treat him that nicely, especially considering what he’d done to her.
    That didn’t matter much to him.  While she occupied herself with cooking, he disappeared for long enough to find the cellar and a very good, expensive bottle of wine.  He didn’t have any concerns about leaving her alone.  Her inability to suppress her thinking would have broadcast any attempt at escape, and he would have been able to intercept her easily.  He almost found himself hoping she would make that attempt – it would give him another excuse to spank her.
    After popping the cork, he offered her some, which she declined politely, then poured himself a glass and spent the rest of the time avidly watching her cook.  She prepared a small steak, seared to medium and served in a quick onion and garlic red wine sauce, thanks to him, freshly steamed petite baby carrots, and garlic mashed potatoes.
    She brought her meal back into the den to take a seat on the sofa she’d so recently been bent ignominiously over, and flipped on the television, finally settling down to watch an episode of Nurse Jackie .
    When she was finished, he turned the television off.  He ignored her indignant look, saying, “You asked me earlier if I thought that my...possession of you might have driven Dag away from you.”
    Suddenly, Fawna, who had been determined to pay him as little mind as was possible, was all ears.
    “And yes, I think that was exactly why he left.”
    “Why?”  Her voice broke before she could control it.  Breaking down was the last thing she wanted to do in front of him, but she couldn’t seem to stop it.  “It wasn’t something I had any control over – I couldn’t stop it – I didn’t want it –”
    As much as Max didn’t want to admit it, her pain made his heart clench.  He was feeling empathy for a human for the first time in a very long time, and that was the last thing he wanted to feel for her.   But there it was.  His voice was soft, almost soothing.  “Dag knows that better than anyone else besides me.  But he also knows how vulnerable you are to us – to our kind.  Even more so than humans.  You’re only half faerie, and I’m not at all sure how that would affect you, but vampire and faerie blood are not meant to mix.  It didn’t hurt me, but –“ he hesitated for only an instant here “- I had intended that it be the death of you.  Your half human blood saved you.”
    “My guess is that he realized how close I had come to killing you, how vulnerable you were to me, to death, that probably my next bite – or his – or any other vampire’s – would be the end of you, and he couldn’t take that chance.”  Max looked Fawna directly in the eye.  “I’d’ve done the exact same thing, in his shoes.  He was probably hoping that I’d follow him, and not you.”  He smiled, and it was not a pleasant sight.  “He was wrong.”
    She had been going to get a brownie slab, long since baked and frozen by her mother, but that look turned her stomach.  She took a deep breath and shrugged her shoulders.  “So you’re going to kill me.  Why don’t you just get it over with?”
    Max bowed his head to her.  “Those are brave