I stretch as the edges of sleep tug on my mind and body. My muscles are a little sore, but not uncomfortably so. There is something so peaceful about lingering in the space between the dream world and the waking.
Soft material glides over my skin, and I feel nearly weightless. Fire crackles in the hearth, warming the air. Alaric’s musky scent surrounds me.
I would be content to stay in this moment forever.
But as always, the moment fades, and my mind rouses. I blink open my eyes. Dark materials and opulent furnishings decorate the room.
I sit up, clutching the sheets to my naked body as everything comes rushing back.
Asking for the mark. The overwhelming need it sparked. The first mark was nothing in comparison. It's like a rope tied around my waist, tugging lightly, urging me to find him and ask for the final mark.
The feeling that lingers isn't the same as it was the first time. It’s less demanding.
My hand splays out on the empty spot next to me, not entirely cooled. He must have just left. I’m disappointed.
I slide my legs off the bed and stand. The discarded dress from yesterday is gone, and in its place, draped over the back of the couch, is a new one, deep blue in color.
I quickly slip into it. By the time I finish lacing up the back, Alaric still hasn’t returned. My stomach tightens.
I pause near the door when the glint of firelight reflecting of metal catches my eye. Sitting on the bedside table is the night-forged dagger. I quickly pocket it, then close the door behind me.
I meander down the hall to his office, but the room is empty, not even the warm light of coals sits in the fireplace. Night has fallen. I must have slept the entire day away.
A spark of irritation and hurt alights in my gut. I wonder if Alaric is avoiding me again. But the insecurities fade as quickly as it came on.
More aimless wandering through the manor reveals that I am once again alone.
A meal waits for me on the table. I eat quickly then return to walking the halls until I end up in the music room. I think of the first and only dance lesson I’ve had in my life. If I’m to accompany him to Nightwich, it might be a good idea to resume them again.
I stop by a window and pull the heavy drapes to the side. I lean against the frame, entirely bored. The mark will send me to the Otherworld by insanity if this keeps up. Whatever Alaric is doing right now, it must be enough to distract him from the effects—if he even feels anything.
He's probably in the forest hunting the demons again. He and Oliver hadn’t gone into detail about the issue, but he had promised to spend time dealing with them before we leave.
I wonder what Nightwich will be like. If I thought four new vampires were intimidating… what would dozens be like?
A shiver runs down my spine.
“Are you cold, Lady Clara?”
I spin to find Victor once again standing close and leaning in as if he means to pick up on the dance where we left off. His toad—demon—croaks from the doorway and draws my attention.
“You startled me,” I say, barely stopping myself from reaching for the dagger. “I’m not sure I like this new habit of yours.”
He gives me a quarter smile at that. I move to the side, wanting more space between us. I don’t know if it’s his habit of sneaking up on me, or if it's the lingering effects of the second mark that unsettle me.
“What brings you to this part of the manor alone, so late at night?”
I tilt my head, glancing at him over my shoulder. “Is it late?” I hum thoughtfully. “I hadn’t realized what time it was.”
Demons and saints, in my search for Alaric, I was too busy pining for him to bother glancing at any of the clocks in this manor.
I chew the inside of my cheek and drag a finger along the edge of the piano.
I am losing myself.
Inhaling a breath, I mentally shake off my melancholy and continue my slow walk around the room, testing the vampire’s movements.
Victor shadows me.
“It seems someone is always occupying your time. I haven’t had a chance to get to know you yet,” he says.
With each step away I take, he manages to close the distance. He stops any further retreat by placing his hand over mine, pinning it to the top of the piano—not hard enough to hurt, but enough that I would have to struggle to get free.
“Alaric has been keeping you to himself lately. I’m a bit jealous.”
“Well, he did claim me…” I tug on my hand, hoping he will take the hint.
He doesn’t.
“I would so enjoy a snack right now,” he adds quietly.
I process his words, swallowing the lump that has formed in my throat. “Didn’t you just return from hunting?”
Victor smiles, wider this time—the same smile that he wore when he first arrived, but there is nothing sensual about it.
Red rings his irises, but the color is broken up by thin, black lines that slowly extend from the center of his pupils. The veins lengthen, edging out into the whites.
“Do not worry, Lady Clara. I only want to play a little.”
“No, thank you,” I snap, yanking my arm free. “I don’t feel like playing.”
I turn to leave. He wouldn’t dare cross the line. He would threaten and try to scare me, but he wouldn’t dare—Victor cuts me off as I round the piano, effectively blocking my path.
“Stop,” he says. Power vibrates in that single word.
My feet are stuck in place and I can’t move. I can feel the compulsion in his voice, though his eyes don’t glow with it. Instead, the black thickens, swallowing up the brown and spreading like spilled ink over the whites. My head throbs. I press my hands to my temples, trying to lessen the pain.
Victor lets out a delighted sound, something between a purr and a growl. He steps even closer.
“How delightful… you are not marked.” He licks his lips, his eyes dart to the tiny scars on my neck. “At least, not fully… you could yet belong to me.”
The possessiveness in his voice promises things I can’t imagine. I can’t stop the shudder that races along my spine.
Victor gathers me in his arms, holding me too tight.
“Let me go,” I say.
My attempts at escaping his grasp are weak. He doesn’t even seem to notice as he fists a hand in my hair and jerks my head to the side, exposing my neck.
“Don’t,” I warn.
Somewhere in the room, there's a single chirp and the flap of wings in the air. And then it's gone.
Cherno…
Victor brings his face close, inhaling long and deep. His tongue darts across my collarbone, to my neck and jaw, and up the side of my face.
Disgusting.
“Let me go, demon fucker.”
He brings his mouth to my ear. I cringe, expecting to feel his fangs sink into my neck just below my jaw. Hot breath, foul and reeking of rot and blood, brushes over my skin.
“Fear me,” he commands. The two words are nothing more than a whisper, but the same pounding that always follows compulsion thrums through my head.
His power forces its way into me, wrapping around every muscle. It’s cold and slimy. I barely understand the words, but I know them as soon as my body obeys.
My legs tremble, terror works its icy fingers through my veins.
“It always tastes better when they are afraid,” he says. “It’s too bad you will never understand the sweet, tang of fear in mortal blood.”
I open my mouth to tell him that I am not afraid, but I never get the chance.
His fangs tear into my skin. Fiery pain envelops my neck and shoulder, white-hot, burning, burning, burning. I hear a scream, hoarse and cracked, and it takes me a moment to realize it belongs to me.
Then he releases me, taking a step back. He runs his tongue over his red stained teeth, then licks his lips. He uses a thumb to wipe away an invisible drop from the corner of his mouth. His eyes trail up from where he fed to meet my gaze. The black has swallowed up his irises. The inky veins spiderweb out of the corners of his eyes, fanning out across his cheeks. It looks like poison.
“Fall to your knees, human,” Victor orders. He laughs, it’s deep and throaty, and filled with my blood.
My knees hit the wood floor with a hard thud. My body continues to shake—partially from the fear he compelled upon me, and now because real fear is seeping in. I struggle to think as the power of compulsion fogs my mind. I don’t know what to expect from him next.
Nothing about this is natural. His eyes should be red, not black.
Something is very, very wrong.