Something brushes my shoulder. I groan, swatting at the annoyance. It comes again, this time it’s a warm hand gripping my shoulder.
“Wake up, Miss Valmont.”
My eyes snap open at the deep, warm voice. Then everything comes back to me.
I’m not at home, not with my sister—I am sleeping in a room with a vampire who has made no qualms about letting me know just how disposable I am.
I roll over to my back and look up into dark sapphire eyes, ringed with red.
Shit. I don’t move. The red seems to glow in the dim watery light. He needs to feed…
“Get up and get dressed. We leave in less than an hour.”
My breath quickens, bracing my sleep addled brain for what is undoubtedly to come next.
It seems a long moment passes before he turns on his heel and walks out the door. I don’t waste a second, scrambling out of the uncomfortable bed.
I pluck up my clothes still spread out in front of the dying fire, and pull them on, moving as fast as I can until I am fully dressed. Only then do I slow, ready for his return. I fold the shirt I wore last night as best I can, trying to get the wrinkles out. A useless waste of time.
I expect him to be back any second, but time passes. I look out the window to the soot-covered town below. The stone of the buildings is dark and covered in patches of some type of lichen. It looks nearly identical to Littlemire, with small differences in the layout of streets and placement of shops.
The edge of dawn slices across the horizon, a thin line of molten gold, stark against the deep blue sky. Demons cry, wailing as they are chased into hiding once more by the sun.
I wait and wait… and wait.
I have nothing left to do, other than to spend time with my thoughts. I had promised Kitty I would kill him and return to her. I had promised myself I would kill him.
Then again, I am dead anyway. I don’t know when or how… but I won’t let him decide, I will take fate into my hands as much as I'm able.
I look around for a weapon, only finding the fire poker. Not ideal, too large to hide, but I wrap my fingers around the handle anyway.
The door creaks open, and I spin to face him.
Calmly, he closes the door and crosses the room, stopping before me. His gaze flicks to his folded shirt on the chair then back to me. The red that earlier ringed his irises is gone.
“Don’t bother.”
The way he practically dares me with his arrogant smirk and overly confident words is too tempting to resist. I have killed one of them, and I will gladly do it again, and again, and again until the world is free of these cruel monsters.
I lift my arm and thrust the poker at his heart.
Mr. Devereaux adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves without looking up.
“Stop,” he says. His voice is barely above a whisper, but it echoes in my head painfully.
My arm is frozen, outstretched, the iron tip of the poker only an inch away from piercing his flesh. I try to pierce his heart, but my body doesn’t move.
What the fuck is happening?
The vampire lifts his head and meets my gaze.
He sidesteps the poker, then slowly, oh so slowly, he lifts a hand and guides my arm to the side. His fingers graze down my arm to my hand. The way he moves is like a dance. Controlled. Graceful.
Swift as lightning he grips the weapon and wrenches it from my grasp, then tosses it across the room where it clanks against the dusty wood flooring.
I can’t move. My body is frozen in place, no matter how hard I struggle against this invisible hold.
He takes one step closer, then another, until his chest is mere inches away from mine. I can only stare into the midnight blue depths of his eyes.
The backs of his knuckles graze my skin as he pushes my hair off my shoulder. His fingers splay over my neck from my jaw to my collarbone. With the slightest amount of pressure from one finger, he tilts my head back and leans in.
The warmth from his breath caresses my skin as he draws his face close to mine. I swallow hard, my heart thumping wildly against my ribs. The ruby ring reappears around his irises, and his fangs descend.
His mouth hovers over the crook of my neck, warm breath caressing my skin. I wait for the sting of his fangs to press down.
“You will end up dead sooner rather than later if you do not learn your place.” He speaks slowly, his face hovering over mine. I feel his threat down to the marrow of my bones.
His eyes drift lower, pausing on my mouth. I can practically feel his lips on mine and something to coils in my gut at his nearness.
Then he releases me, stepping back. He’s looking at me as though I burned him. In a blink, the expression is gone and I’m not sure I imagined it.
He looks at the shirt I slept in, folded on the chair, then picks it up, tossing it into the fireplace as he passes me.
Well, I suppose that makes his feelings toward me more than clear if he feels the need to burn something just because I wore it for a few hours. It’s fine with me if I disgust him—the feeling is mutual.
Glowing red flashes in his eyes, circling his irises. In a clipped tone that once again vibrates in my mind, he says, “Come.”
My body moves forward, stiff and awkward despite my attempts to fight his command.
“Let me go,” I grit through my teeth.
He pauses mid-stride and glances over his shoulder to give me a doubtful look, then keeps walking. Bastard.
I stop fighting the force, compelling me to move forward, and my movements become slightly less stilted. I am still his puppet. Mr. Devereaux's hold on me doesn’t lessen as we make our way downstairs and outside to the waiting carriage.
After climbing in after him, I expect the carriage to take off immediately, but a few minutes later, a thump of something substantial being hoisted rattles the outside.
My body feels foreign, as though it doesn’t belong to me—it’s wrong.
“Let me go,” I say again, though this time my voice lacks the strength I tried to imbue my words with.
“So you can attempt to kill me again?” he asks.
“Yes,” I breathe.
Instead of responding further, he leans back against the seat across from me and closes his eyes.
“What did you do to me?” I whisper.
He doesn’t speak or move for a long moment, then he opens one eye and peers at me.
“I compelled you.” My body shakes as I struggle against it. “Don’t even try to fight it… You can’t.”
Why do I get the feeling that he has more to say?
Gradually I feel his hold on me loosen. I can move my fingers, my toes, then my legs and arms, and finally, even my spine is mine once more.
I stare at him.
Is he… is he asleep?
He might have removed all weapons from my reach, but he is a fool if he thinks he is safe around me for a second.
Hours pass and the carriage continues at the same pace, even over the worst of the roads—the wheels bouncing in the deep grooves.
I watch the angles of the shadows shorten, then lengthen in the opposite direction as the sun begins to set.
His face has gone slack. He looks far younger right now than when he’s awake. A lock of hair has fallen over his brow.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” I say eventually.
He blinks open his eyes and looks at me as though he had forgotten I was even here. Then his features harden into the unforgivable mask I am used to. I half expect the compulsion to return to grip me, but it doesn’t.
“What did you expect when you agreed to pay the debt? Did you think being beholden to a vampire would be romantic?” he asks mockingly.
“No.”
“You’re not one of those pathetic worshippers, are you?” he asks with disgust.
At first, I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but then I remember the girl back at the inn, red staining the collar of her white dress. I shudder.
“Would you like to be fed upon day by day until you slowly wither away to nothing?” He leans forward, a mixture of seduction and deadly predator.
“No,” I say. Only this time it comes out as a whisper.
A sinister smile forms on his full lips. “Unfortunately, what becomes of you at this point has nothing to do with what you do or do not wish to happen. You are not in control of your fate, and the sooner you realize that the better off you will be.”
I clench my fists in my lap, gripping the material of my trousers until my knuckles go white. He notices before I can force myself to relax and gives me an unamused look.
“You would do well to learn to control your temper.”
“Go fuck a demon,” I snap.
The corner of his mouth ticks up as if I amuse him. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and meets my glare with one of his own.
“You will never win.” Red seems to flare in his eyes.
I sit up straighter, determined to not back down. My heart pounds furiously.
He reaches forward and wraps his fingers around my wrist. I’m too stunned at first to rip my arm away. He will feed on me.
Before I can even open my mouth, he says, “Sleep.”
That strange vibration to his words scrapes against my mind, and I know he compelled me again. I fight as hard as I can, but still, my eyelids grow heavy, and my body relaxes against my will just as the darkness sets in.