Chapter 379: Report
"A report?" Penelope’s eyebrows threaded together at the mention of a report she was not aware of. "I don’t know what you mean."
"Tell me about the Luna," Zagan reclined back in his chair with his hands folded in front of himself. "Tell me about August."
Something prickled at the back of Penelope’s skull like part of her brain had fallen asleep and now had pins and needles where it was trying to recover feeling. Her eyes became blurry and she squeezed them shut to try regaining her focus, but no amount of rubbing them was helping.
"What do you want to know?" she found herself asking like some kind of mindless zombie.
"How is she?" Zagan asked, gesturing with his hands as he did as if it were an obvious question, but he didn’t really care to hear about the Luna. He just needed an excuse to have Penelope here in front of him. It eased all of the frantic thoughts that had been running through his head since he walked into the infirmary and smelled the tantalizing scent of her blood.
He wasn’t drawn to thirst for her at the moment, which was a relief. But he didn’t understand why that would be. The seduction of her blood had been so strong before, he was lost to it at the time—unable to stop himself from accidentally compelling her. Now, even though he could tell that her wounds were not yet healed as the scent of her injuries was still obvious, he had no desire to feed from her.
"She is fine," Penelope ground out as angry tears pricked her eyes. She could feel him seeking to pull information from her against her will.
"That is hardly an answer," he glanced at her and noticing her tears, he had to look away. "Tell me more specifically how she is."
Penelope glared at him, resisting the truth that was bubbling to the surface as she gripped the armrests of the chair she was in.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she growled, surprising the vampire in front of her. She was putting up one hell of a fight for a simple question.
"I didn’t think this would be such a violation," he frowned and bent forward, studying her. "It is a very simple question unless you are attempting to hide something from me."
"I told you she is fine," she growled, clenching the chair tighter. Tears began sliding out of her eyes, and his face softened without his realization.
"What are you hiding, Penelope?" he asked gently, now rapt in his attention of her.
She glared at him in response. That generic question she was not compelled to answer.
Zagan stared at the fierce determination of this female in front of him, admiring her for it to the extent that he felt his chest begin to ache. It was like that part of him he thought to be hollow was reaching for her. He instinctively scooted his chair back away from the desk in order to put more space between them. What was happening to him? Was this what death felt like?
"What are you hiding about August?" he asked more specifically this time, his tone turning cold.
"I hate that you can do this to me," she hissed, and he felt the venom in her words as if it was injected with fangs, piercing his skin. "The memory enchantment is broken," she blurted out, grimacing at her own admission.
His head tilted, a smile curling on his lips. "For how long has it been broken?"
"How does one judge time here?" she asked honestly, glaring at him.
"A clever retort, little one," he smiled, his fingers folding together in front of him. Conversing with her was so entertaining. "When was the last time I saw her that it was unbroken?" he specified his question.
Her eyes darted around the desk as her mind worked it out while she remained clenching the chair as if she were tied to it against her will. "It was unbroken when you listened outside the door when I first introduced myself to her."
"Did you break the enchantment yourself?" he smirked.
She shook her head. There were pebbles of perspiration on her forehead that revealed how difficult she found this violation of her free will. She was fighting it.
"Penelope," he called her, leaning forward now. "I only wish to know the truth. Is that such a bad thing?"
"That depends. Are you being truthful with me, Zagan?" she asked, bravely using his name in defiance of him as well as her own fear.
She saw him visibly swallow in response to hearing his name on her lips. It was not the reaction she expected.
"This isn’t about me," he replied, and she scoffed at the answer.
"Can I ask you a question?" she challenged him with her eyes.
He stared back at her silent but waiting. What did she want to know?
"Why did my heart hurt so badly when I woke up after you drank from me?" she asked, more tears escaping as she did.
She didn’t want to be in this position. She didn’t want to be tied to him in some way or compelled to tell him things against her will. She would rather die herself than be this monster’s mate.
Zagan frowned. "I don’t have an answer for that," he said quietly.
"Does that happen to others? Or was it just me?" she asked, seeking to ask another question but not being brave enough to do it. Was she his mate? Was he aware that it may be a possibility?
"I have never heard of it occurring," he admitted, thinking about how his own heart had stuttered to life a short time after he left her in his office—perhaps at the same moment that she said hers was hurting.
"What does that mean?" she asked, pressing him for more, but he was done with this line of questioning.
"It doesn’t mean anything," he answered quickly, shutting her down. "If you did not break the enchantment, how did August shrug free of it so quickly?"
"The talisman," she replied through clenched teeth.
"The talisman?" Zagan repeated, recalling the medallion he saw hanging around the Luna’s neck. She had skillfully deceived him with her act of ignorance. "Where did she get it?"
"It was on her when she was taken, and she put it back on after remarking about its familiarity," she answered.
"You gave it to her," he smirked, reading between the lines of her answers.
"Yes."
"I see," he smiled.
"You aren’t angry?" she asked, finding that his lack of anger was making hers escalate.
"No, on the contrary. I am impressed. You are a worthy opponent in this game we are playing," he chuckled.
"This is a game to you?" she asked, disgusted. "All of these lives that hang in the balance because you brought them here?"
"Please don’t be offended, Winter. Should an ancient soul such as mine not be allowed a few entertaining moments before I invite death upon myself? Would you deprive me of the pleasure of your company?"
"If it would displease you to lose it, then yes. If it would make you invite death more quickly, then absolutely," she replied, leaning against the desk as she glared at him.
His smile died down, and he became thoughtful. He leaned on the desk as well, bringing his eyes to level with hers. "What if you were the one who I invited to kill me, darling? Would you do it?"
"In a heartbeat," she growled, ignoring the way her own heart leapt at the term of endearment he used.
"And a heartbeat is all it will take," he replied. "Unfortunately for me, I don’t have one."
