“Will you be joining us today?” Oliver asks, inclining his head. As his face inches closer to mine, I lean back. His eyes flick to my neck then back to my face. His smile slips a fraction, and heat travels up to burn my cheeks.
“No,” Alaric says sharply. His arm slides across my collarbone, separating Oliver and me.
Oliver releases me and steps to the side. Not quite a retreat, but enough to show that he’s not going to challenge Alaric.
“Clara,” Alaric says without so much as glancing my way. “Please excuse us.”
The man and woman that came with Oliver raise their chins in a barely noticeable move. Their scrutiny sears up and down my body as they appraise me. I don’t know what they find, but it is clear that I have been found wanting.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Clara,” Oliver says. And then he turns, striding into the drawing room, the other shifters on his heels.
I reach for Alaric’s hand. He looks down, then reluctantly he meets my gaze as if it pains him.
“I want to join you.” I keep my voice calm. “There is something going on, and if…” I swallow, stumbling on my words. “If I am to stay with you, I should know what it’s about. This is now my home too.”
His expression softens, and for a moment, I think he might actually consider it. But then he sets his jaw and shakes his head, removing his hand from mine. “No. Perhaps another time.”
Then he closes the door, and I’m left standing alone once more. I’m fed up with him shutting me out. We were never like this, he was never like this before the first mark.
The murmuring on the other side begins immediately. I tiptoe closer and press my ear to the wood, trying to make out the conversation. But the sound of my pulse obscures most of it.
“Higher… Worse… Urgent…”
“Evesdropping?” a man says.
My heart leaps into my throat as I whirl to face Mr. Harkstead.
“No, I wasn’t… I was…”
His lip curls. “Are you sure? Because you had your ear pressed against the door,” he says, holding out a hand to me. “Come, there is no use lying.”
I shake my head, then take a deep breath and blow it out. “What I meant to say was that I wasn’t trying to intrude. I am worried. That’s all.”
“I’m sure Alaric will tell you what you want to know when he is ready. But for now, you need to trust him.”
I trust Alaric. It’s the vampire standing before me I don’t trust. Then I chide myself for making an opinion of him just because he has never been warm toward me. I will give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, I was once wrong about Alaric, I might be wrong about Lawrence too.
The weight of the night-forged dagger in my hidden pocket gives me a small sense of safety. A girl can never be too careful.
I slip my hand into his and walk with him until we reach the music room. Half the drapes are drawn, only the ones covering the west-facing windows are open, allowing soft light in and blocking out the harsh direct rays of the sun.
Once we reach the middle of the room, Lawrence drops my hand and walks over to the piano. Lifting the lid covering the keys, he takes a seat on the bench.
“Ah, no one told me there was going to be a party.”
I jump, turning to face Victor standing closer than I expected. He wraps an arm around my waist and lifts my left hand with his free one.
“Care to dance?” he asks, not waiting for music.
He takes a few steps, picking me up just enough that my feet barely touch the ground. I’m too startled to say anything.
A jarring crash of piano keys sounds through the room, and thankfully Victor stops dancing. I don’t hesitate to put distance between us.
“It is not a party, and if you want to spend time with Lady Clara, then you can come back later.”
Victor’s brows shoot up. His eyes seem to pulse with an inky darkness, then I blink, and it's gone. “I didn’t realize you wished for alone time with her. I do apologize,” he says. “I will leave you alone.”
Victor inclines his head toward me, apologizing once more and giving me a sheepish smile, then he turns and strides from the room.
Vampires are such territorial creatures.
Lawrence positions his hands over the keys, then looks at me and dips his head, indicating the spot next to him.
Hesitantly, I walk over and sit as close to the edge as I can so our sides don’t touch. Then he begins to play. The tempo is slow, quiet, and sorrowful. I’ve never learned to play. Father always said it was a waste of time when I should be working to help our family.
As the song picks up, he moves with it until it ends on a long, soft note, like an exhale.
Lawrence turns to me. It’s like he is trying to read my mind or soul or see down to my very essence.
He slowly lowers the lid down over the keys.
“I was shocked when I first learned Alaric had finally taken part in the claiming. We all were. Did you know he has never claimed a human before?” He runs a hand over his chin thoughtfully, as if rubbing stubble that isn’t there. “I was with him the day before he claimed you. Even then, he was adamant he wouldn’t partake in the custom.”
I hold my breath, frozen where I sit. His words are innocuous enough, he isn’t saying anything cruel or untrue, but his eyes hold something deadly.
“But then he did, there was no hiding that from Elizabeth. And because he finally claimed a human, he must attend the winter masquerade. I wanted to see what kind of human managed to change his mind.”
I lick my suddenly dry lips. “And?” I prompt when he doesn’t continue. “What did you find?”
“A puzzle.”
I raise a brow in question.
“You see, you are quite unremarkable. You are not from a good or rich family, and you’re not any exceptional beauty and yet… you have him bewitched.”
I snort, probably proving his point about me. But saying I bewitched a vampire is a gross exaggeration.
Lawrence tilts his head. “Now don’t look so offended, you know the things I say are true.”
He stands and walks around the bench until he’s on my other side and rests one hand on the piano, the other on the edge of the bench.
I say nothing.
Neither of us moves for a painfully long moment. My neck begins to ache from holding it at this angle.
“Why did he claim you, Clara?” he asks. “Why would he claim a human now, after years of refusing to even consider it?”
I want to lie and say I don’t know, but my instincts scream not to. “If you want to know, then ask him yourself. You must think a lot of me to assume I know his mind.”
Suspicion settles over his shoulders like a cloak. I see it in his eyes first as they widen and then narrow. “What do you know of the vampire that was killed during the claiming?” he asks, almost too calmly.
My stomach gutters and I’m glad I'm sitting because I don’t think my legs could hold me up. I can’t admit everything to him. It would mean certain death.
Focus… keep your heartbeat slow, my mind commands.
I pull in a slow breath and say, “I know there was a vampire killed around the time he claimed me.” Lawrence quirks a brow at that admission. “And I know that she was his sister.”
There… not a lie, but not an admission of guilt.
Lawrence bares his teeth. “I find it to be too much of a coincidence that Rosalie is murdered, and Alaric just happens to claim you. What do you know of her death?”
He snarls, red rings his irises, threatening to consume the green and gold of his hazel eyes.
I shouldn’t be offended by his accusation since it’s true. Nevertheless, the revenge for Rosalie’s death is not his to take.
I slide one hand over the top of the piano, next to his. I straighten my back and hold my chin high, leaning in so close, our noses nearly touch. I bare my teeth. “Do not threaten me, Mr. Harkstead. It will not end well.”
He goes to speak but stops as the movement of his jaw presses the underside of his chin down on the dagger's point. The slightest pressure from my hand is all it would take to drive it into his skin. It might not be a killing blow, but I don’t intend it to be if he forces me to follow through.
“He gave you her dagger?” he speaks with venom, but I don’t miss the sliver of pain in his voice. “Or did you steal it?”
“If you want to know about Rosalie’s death, then ask Mr. Devereaux. But don’t think you can corner me with the pretense of civilized conversation and threaten me into telling you whatever you want to hear.”
Lawrence backs up a step and smooths the lapel of his jacket. I stand as well now, wanting to equalize the power between us as much as possible. He still towers over me. I’m not as small and delicate as Kathrine, but I’m not what anyone would consider tall.
“I can’t prove anything—yet, but I know you had something to do with Rosalie’s murder. What I can’t figure out is why Alaric would protect you.” He turns from me and strides to leave, pausing in the doorway to look back over his shoulder. “This will not end well for you, Miss Valmont.” He echoes my words. “You or Alaric. Whatever it is you have done, you should know you won't be the only one who will end up paying for it.”
And then he’s gone.
I remain standing for one minute… two… three. When Lawrence doesn’t return, I slip the dagger back into my pocket and drop down to the piano bench.
How had I managed to draw on a vampire without him noticing?
Guilt forms knots in my stomach. Rosalie must have meant something to him—that, or he had simply underestimated my ability to protect myself.
A shiver crawls down my spine from the encounter. I am so used to feeling safe when I am with Alaric, I keep forgetting how dangerous vampires can be.
I still want to talk to that infuriating man, but he’s probably still in the drawing room with Oliver. No doubt it was the reason why Lawrence chose this moment to have a chat with me.
Resting my elbows on the closed lid, I hold my chin in my hands and chew on my bottom lip.
Lawrence seemed to have only just learned of Rosalie’s death. He connected my claiming with the timing, which I suppose isn’t that difficult.
Alaric is still keeping her death a secret to protect me. I just wish I knew why. Most importantly, what repercussions would Alaric face for sheltering me all this time?
It’s been less than an hour. Less than half… if that. I’m tempted to wait outside the doors to catch Alaric the second he leaves the room, but there is no telling how long their talk will take.
There is a tug in my chest, urging me to seek him out. I rub my hand over the spot trying to quell the sensation. Even if I didn’t know where he was, I think this feeling would lead me straight to him.
It’s lessened now to a dull hum from the blinding need that first took hold. It scares me that I want the second mark. I am not ready for the final mark yet—it seems too permanent. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be prepared for that.
For now, though, I need to get close to it. I had already decided on asking for two of the three marks the moment he explained everything because it would keep me safe… but now I think I might want the second for an entirely different reason.