His kiss is seared on my lips and upon my very soul. It lingers long after I fall asleep. I press my fingers to my mouth, and my eyes slide shut as a shiver runs over my body.
Rolling to my side, I stare unseeing at my surroundings as the watery light of the day washes over everything. I came to my room to nap after breakfast and have been here ever since. But like most nights lately, I haven’t been able to fall asleep for all the noise of my unending thoughts swirling through my head.
My attempts to draw even the smallest drop of blood from him inevitably end in failure and a kiss. It feels as though it has become a sick game between us—one where I seek him out for these moments.
“Miss Valmont,” Mr. Steward’s voice drifts through the door as he knocks twice. For a second, I lay still, thinking about pretending to be asleep. Then he speaks again. “A letter has come for you in the post this afternoon.”
My heart is in my throat in an instant. I fling off the blankets and leap off the bed. Throwing open the armoire, I grab the first dress I can and pull it on, not bothering to button the back. I hurry to the door and fling it open, coming face to face with the butler, who stares at me with wide eyes.
“A letter?” I ask breathlessly.
The butler lifts his eyebrows at my excitement, then, entirely too calm, he says, “Yes, Miss.”
I have been waiting for a response since the day I wrote my first letter to Kitty. It’s all I can do to stop myself from reaching out and snatching the letter out of his grasp. He seems to be moving in slow motion.
The man has never shown an ounce of emotion one way or the other. I wonder if he is even capable of them.
“Thank you,” I say once I have the letter in my grasp. My hands tremble.
“You weren't at lunch, Miss. Do you wish for me to bring you something to eat?”
I am a little hungry, but offering to bring me something seems to leave a bitter taste in his mouth, so I shake my head. “No, thank you.”
“Very well,” Mr. Steward says, bowing slightly before walking away.
I close the door with my foot and lean back against it. It takes me two tries to open the letter. Eventually, I break the seal and open it. It’s a single page with a few short paragraphs.
Dear Clara,
I was relieved to get your letters, having feared you would have been killed by that horrid monster that first night. All of your letters have put me in the best of spirits, and I would like to think that on those days my health has improved even if just a little. I will admit I put off answering your first letters in the hope that you would have returned before a response would have reached you.
I am glad to hear you are alive and well. I miss you more than words can say.
Hurry, sweet sister, and dispose of that monster so that you may return home to me where you are needed.
Your loving sister,
Kathrine
I flip the page over but there is nothing more. I can’t help the ache of disappointment that she didn’t write more, that she didn’t even speak a word of Xander, or if he ever received my letters to him or if he hasn’t received them—if he knows why I left. Surely, he knows I have every intention of returning.
I wonder if Mr. Devereaux is sending my letters or having them destroyed… it would explain why Xander hasn’t written back, but then why did Kitty not mention him?
I rub my temples with my fingers. There is no way I am going to know for sure. I must keep trying to win my freedom.
Folding the letter, I shove it into my pocket and sink down to the floor. An awful feeling gnaws at the back of my mind. As much as I want to return to my life, to those I love, there have been times where I have become consumed with life here. I press my fingers to my mouth, pull in a deep breath, and hold it. My cheeks burn at the thought of every kiss that has happened between the vampire and me.
I have tried over a dozen times to draw blood, and each failure has been a betrayal to Xander. No matter how many times I tell myself it is necessary for me to eventually leave here, I know a part of me wants it. Every kiss is different, some are cold and quick… and with others, I nearly lose my senses. But every single one has erased the memory of Xander’s kisses, bit by bit. I am afraid that one day soon, I will not be able to recall a single kiss or the feel of his embrace any longer.
Alaric might not be compelling me, but I wonder if he uses some demonic power whenever he is close. I don’t see how there could be any other explanation for it.
Nothing I have done thus far has worked. I need to change my strategy. While I want nothing more than to rid the world of vampires and avenge everyone who has ever been taken or murdered by one… I do not need to kill Alaric as I have been attempting. I only need to draw a single drop of blood to earn my freedom.
I don’t need the strength or speed to pierce a heart, only a small flick of my wrist. A scratch.
It will be enough to just be free and return home.
Standing, I stretch before reaching behind me to fasten up the back of the dress. I grab the dagger from the night table and head out of my rooms.
I stop first at the library, but there is no one there and the fire in the hearth is dying down. I swallow my nerves, squaring my shoulders, and head up the staircase to the third floor. Since that first night we drank on the floor of his study, he has not even tried to enforce the ban he’d set—so I’m not sure why I’m so nervous about going up there now.
I bypass the first two rooms and head straight for the last door.
When I peek in, I see the fire is roaring, Alaric’s jacket is slung over the back of the large wing-backed chair near the fireplace, and an open book sits, spine up, on the cushion.
He’s been reading, and by the looks of things, he will return shortly. I pick up the book and turn it over, glancing at the title before opening it up to the beginning.
“Will you be joining the master for tea,” the butler asks from the doorway. “Or are you snooping through his things?”
I snap the book shut, having nearly jumped out of my skin at being caught. Mr. Steward holds a tray with a single china cup and a teapot.
“There is a personal matter I wish to discuss with him,” I say with a bite to my words.
He grunts and nods once, setting the tray on the desk, then pouring a cup and placing it on the small round table next to the chair. He leaves without another word or glance in my direction.
I breathe out once he’s gone. Looking at the steeping tea, I know Alaric will be back soon enough. I reach inside my pocket and pull out the dagger, positioning it under the book in my hand. It takes a few attempts to find something comfortable and natural enough to hold the blade while I appear to be reading.
I stand in place, flipping through the pages as though I’m reading. But all of my attention is on the sounds around me. Listening for him to return and catch him by surprise with a scratch of the blade.
My shoulders grow stiff, and the tea has cooled. I shift in place, growing uncomfortable.
I huff to myself. Who asks for tea and then doesn’t return in time to drink it before it gets cold? It feels like I have been waiting on him for hours at this point, and I am already a good portion through the book. I’m in danger of finishing it before he gets back.
“You didn’t even smile at that part,” Alaric’s silky voice whispers in my ear.
I spin, trying not to drop the book as I swipe at him.
Once again, Alaric has managed to stop me with one hand staying my wrist only by his preternatural strength. He takes the book from me and closes it, then drops it on the chair. He moves my arm to the side, stepping into me until we are only a breath apart.
I swallow thickly as he stares down at me. His dark blue eyes are ringed with red. I should be afraid, but I don’t think he will bite. Not once in all the time we’ve spent together has he once tried to bite me.
He takes my chin in his free hand and then his mouth crashes down on mine. His hand moves around to the back of my head, keeping me locked in place. The kiss is hard, and I swear my already swollen lips will bruise. Anger sparks through me and I growl in frustration.
His movements still for a second, but he doesn’t pull away, but now there’s a hunger in his kiss, a desperation I’ve never known before, and it’s dragging me under… consuming me.
His tongue grazes my lip, and I part willingly. I can’t get close enough to him. He tastes like brandy and something sweet. My fingers grip at the back of his shirt, and I try to pull him closer… closer… heat builds in my veins.
The world slowly slips away, and there is only him and me, and this moment.
When my fingers find their way to the buttons of his shirt, his movements slow. His hands snake down my arms until he’s gripping my wrists, and halting my actions.
Then slowly, as if coming up for air, we part as if we were magnets drawn to each other but are being pulled apart by some outside force.
Alaric backs up a step then reaches around me, picking up the book. His tongue darts across his bottom lip in a quick movement, drawing my attention to his mouth once more. For a second, I wonder if he’ll kiss me again, but as time ticks by, he doesn’t.
“Goodnight, dear Clara,” he says gently. He dips his chin, then turns and leaves me alone in his study.
I sink down to the floor, my weak knees no longer wanting to support my weight, and bite down hard on my bottom lip.
When I finally manage to slow my racing heart, I reach into my pocket and pull out Kitty’s letter, thinking of home, and of Xander. His kisses were sweet but wholly unremarkable in comparison to Alaric’s.
I should feel horrified, but I don’t.
Closing my eyes, I take three deep breaths before opening them again. A real kiss can’t have this effect. I am more convinced than ever now that Alaric is using his powers over me. Not compelling me, but something in a similar vein.
I am left feeling like I might be in trouble, far worse than I initially thought.