Page 50 of Muerte
“Do all your family members live here on the Isle?”
He regarded me with something I couldn't quite decipher. “You don’t how much it pleases me to see you so interested in me and my life, even if it's not entirely for the purest of reasons.”
His response caught me off guard. I blinked, unsure how I could be so surprised by his perceptiveness at this point. I actually was interested, though. I told him as much. “I’m not sure what you think I’m asking these questions for, but I honestly would like to know more about you.”
He leaned back with an air of nonchalance and serenity painting his features. “You do realize that with every revelation, every secret I tell you, you’re stepping deeper into my world?”
“And yet, I still want to know.” The declaration was one of both fear and fascination.
He seemed to consider my words before continuing. “Our family spans decades. My father is blood to the oldest generations of Impío. They developed Stygian Isle and helped shape what it is today, along with our culture. However, it was my father himself and his closest Tenebrarius that truly made it progress.”
He took a bite of meat, actually eating the food for once, and poured himself some wine. The scent of it drifted across the table, reaching me and causing a flutter in my stomach. It was the same type he had given me the night I was brought here, a smell now etched in my memory.
“Would you like a glass?”
“No,” I replied firmly.
He clicked his tongue and feigned admonishment.
“Don’t let one bad experience stop you from having a good one, deliciae.”
“Considering where I’m at because of it, that one time was more than enough.”
“You make a fair point. How about this—when I lace your drink with something in the future, I’ll let you know.”
“A-are you asking me to agree to that, meaning you plan to do it again?”
“If it’s for your benefit.” He sat the bottle back in an insulated ice bucket and took a drink from his cup. “Now, where was I?”
I stared at him, trying to process the casual way he just admitted to drugging me, and how he’d do it again. It was a warped kind of transparency, one that left me feeling strangely more aware of the bizarre dynamic that was developing between us.
“Oh, right. So, my father and his Tenebrarius came to the Isle with their families and most devout followers. The rest is history. He retired from his position a few years ago to spend more time with my mother, and I stepped into my birthright.”
I knew I’d just gotten the condensed version of events. I was grateful for that; I wasn’t sure I could handle the detailed one right then. My head was still swimming with all the doctrine talk from earlier, as well as his admission.
“Enough about me for now. How was your day?" His tone was soft, almost affectionate, as he broached the topic.
I hesitated, my mind racing to find the right words. "Exhausting," I confessed, letting the weight of the day’s events seep into my response.
He nodded in understanding. " Did you discuss the weekly schedule?”
I nodded. “Besides the days you—we—go to the Chapel and a few weekly store-runs, there doesn’t seem to be much I actually need to do.”
“Once you’re better settled in, you can participate in things the other women do at your leisure, but you’re right.” He took another bite of his dinner before replying. “Your life is to be one of relaxation and luxury.”
“And worship,” I muttered.
“Not necessarily.”
I glanced at him and swallowed my bite of food before asking, “What do you mean?”
“The only thing you need to worry about worshipping is me.”
I almost started to laugh and caught myself. “I’m not the least bit surprised you would say that.”
“You shouldn’t be. I plan to worship every inch of you. Thoroughly.”
“Can I respectfully decline?”