I wake in my room, sitting up with a start… and instantly regret it. My head swims, aching, and foggy. I press a palm to my forehead in an attempt to stifle the pounding.
What happened?
One minute, Alaric and I were fighting and then… and then he was compelling me—forcing the truth from my lips.
I slide my legs off the edge of the bed and freeze when I see the dagger lying on the top of the night table. Taunting me.
It’s a threat. A dare for me to try again.
I stand. My legs are still weak, but I force them to steady. Grabbing the dagger, I storm out of the room, determined to find him and let him know that I still don't fear him. His tactics will not work on me.
After a minute, my pace slows. I pant from the exertion. For once, the doors to the library are open wide, but among the vast shelves of books that reach from floor to ceiling, a few chairs, and an unlit fireplace, there seem to be no signs of life within.
I take a few steps inside, enthralled by the sheer number of books. There are more books here than I could ever hope to read in my lifetime. The idea of reading something other than the book Mother gave me is both intimidating and thrilling.
On the far right is a dark mahogany spiral staircase leading to a catwalk that is halfway up the wall. This room spans all three floors. Rain beats against the windows that span almost as high.
I want to run my hands along the spines of the books, to pull each of them from the shelf and flip through the pages, devouring each and every word while inhaling the smell of ink and paper and leather binding.
“You are awake,” Alaric’s voice says softly behind me.
I nearly jump out of my skin as I spin to face him. It is one of the few times he’s not scowling or raising his nose to look down on me.
His dark hair is mussed as if he spent the last hour running his hands through it over and over. But the rest of him is immaculate, from his dark trousers, his freshly pressed shirt and black vest with intricate gold brocade, to his neatly tied cravat.
I nearly forget myself as I look at him in the dim light, the pattering rain against glass is the only sound for a long moment.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, attempting to approach slowly.
How do I feel… he means after he compelled me. And with that thought, my anger has returned.
“I am fine,” I bite out, “no thanks to you.”
He flinches slightly at that.
I stomp toward him, letting my fury give my legs the energy to move quickly. I shove the point of the blade toward his face. I expect him to stop me, to take the dagger, or step away. But he doesn’t move. The sharp point nearly touches the underside of his chin.
“You are threatening me with this, and it won’t work.”
Alaric lifts his hand and wraps his long, elegant fingers around my wrist, gently guiding the dagger away. “Am I now?”
“Yes!” I say. “It doesn’t matter how many times you compel me or threaten me—I will never be afraid of you.”
“And is that why you were searching for me, to tell me this?” He tugs on my wrist just enough to throw me off balance. I am forced to take a step to keep from falling into him. “Are you sure you’re not here for… other reasons?” he asks, his tone full of meaning that makes my blood heat.
His other hand settles on my waist, and he pulls me closer until my front is flush against his. His eyes are focused on my mouth, then they lower.
I follow his gaze to my dress… but it’s not the dress I put on for dinner. It’s a nightgown. I had been too set on finding him to realize someone changed me.
“Did—did you?” I look up at him in horror and embarrassment rises from my chest, up my neck to burn my face. I am hot and cold at the same time. “Did you do this?”
“You mean, did I change your clothes?” he asks with a nonchalant air.
“Yes,” I say, hating that the word comes out breathless. “Did you see me naked?” I cross my arms over my chest, feeling self-conscious at the turn in the conversation.
“I have seen countless women naked in my lifetime,” he says. It’s answer enough for me.
I can’t think with him this close. I’m embarrassed… infuriated that he’s seen me undressed. But most of all, I hate that having him hold me close makes me want him more than I want to end him.
My heartbeat speeds up and I wonder if he can hear it. The way he touches me—holds me—is so familiar it is as if he’s been doing it our entire lives.
It makes me feel like a traitor to who I am and to Xander. But even Xander has never made me feel the way Alaric does with just a look.
Clenching my jaw, I use that to fuel my purpose tonight.
I place my hands against his chest, still holding onto the dagger, and push away. His hold gives without resistance.
His mouth ticks up in the corner of one side. “My dear Clara, you flatter me.” His arrogant mask slips, and he adds, “No, it was not I who dressed you…”
It takes me a moment to understand what he said.
“I would not force myself on you. I’m not…” He halts on his next words, and I know what they will be before he speaks. His eyes grow wide, and I feel mine react the same. Instead of finishing that thought, he says, “What kind of man do you take me for?”
“You are not a man,” I bite out, trying to remain unaffected by him. Inside I shiver, something clenching in my stomach. My body betrays me, wanting what it should fear, the damnable thing that it is.
His nostrils flare as he steps closer. His eyes narrow, a wicked grin forming on his lips. “Make no mistake about this, Clara. I might be a vampire, but I am still a man.” Red rings his irises, a mixture of fire and ice.
Suddenly my mouth is dry, and my tongue feels thick and heavy.
“What do you want from me?” I ask.
“Isn’t that obvious?”
My life. He wants my life in exchange for the vampire I killed.
“You’re insufferable,” he says when I don’t reply.
“And you’re a demon’s ass.”
“And you should be more careful with that sharp tongue of yours.” He leans over me, a dark grin forming across his lips.
I swallow. “Are you going to kill me now?”
He looks at me appraisingly, as though he’s weighing his options. “I haven’t decided yet.”
But I think he has.
“If you’re going to kill me, why don’t you do it already?” My back bumps into a bookshelf. I hadn’t even realized either of us had moved.
Alaric braces his hands on either side of my head, caging me between his arms and body. At some point, I'd dropped the dagger and have taken to clutching at his shirt. Again, my body betrays me, gravitating toward him when I should be repulsed.
“Is that what you want, for me to drink from your veins? You want me to hold you in my arms, to feel my mouth on your warm flesh, as your life leaches from your body? And here I thought you despised my very touch. Yet you are practically begging for it.” His voice sends shivers along my body, making every inch of my skin pebble.
He leans in ever so slowly, as though he will do every last thing he spoke of. His canines grow longer as if to emphasize his point.
Despite how I try to be brave when facing him, despite how I tell him that I will never fear him—I know it’s a lie. I am afraid of him, afraid of the death he could deliver. Because as many times as I tell myself that my death means Kitty won’t have to pay for my actions—I still want to live.
“No, don’t.” I step to the side, ducking under his arm.
“I didn’t think so,” he says thoughtfully. “But I would be happy to change that, just say the word.”
Outside the wind picks up, howling— or perhaps it's the demons that inhabit the forest surrounding his home. The rain pelts harder against the glass panes, and a roar of thunder cuts through the space between us, rattling the books.
“You’re horrible,” I say, barely above a whisper, trying to contain my heart that has jumped into my throat. I stare straight ahead at the storm raging outside, the chill of it seeping into this room.
He grips my chin gently between two fingers, turning my face up to look him in the eye.
“Of course,” he says in an infuriatingly cool and unaffected voice. “You only see me as the monster that has haunted your nightmares since you were a child. So why should I be anything more?” His thumb traces along my bottom lip. “But the truth is, I am not nearly so monstrous as you.”
I slap his hand away and grit my teeth. He can use that silver tongue of his all he likes to spin lies and tell half-truths, but I know it was a vampire that took my mother from me. Damn the laws the vampires have set down for us, I refuse to let a human life mean less than the death of one of theirs.
His hand still cups my cheek, his thumb’s movements have stilled, resting on the side of my mouth. I jerk away from him, putting space between us. Every time I put distance between us, one or both of us closes it.
“Don’t ever touch me again.” Even as I say the words, I wonder how much I mean them.
“As you wish, my dear Clara, but know this—when I touch you again, it will be because you initiate it,” he says, emphasizing the first word as if there is no other possibility. “And I will look forward to that day because it will be more than you bargained for.”
“You have to know that I would never initiate it.” I look sideways at him. He is up to something… and a small, dark part of my soul is intrigued.
His face brightens at that. Crimson rings those dark eyes and a dangerous, sexy smile forms on his mouth. I know whatever happens next will not end well for me.
“Would you like to make a wager?”
“No, I don’t,” I say without a second’s hesitation.
He nods as though he’d somehow known my aversions to such things and absentmindedly forgot. “How about something else, then… a bargain?”
“No, it is the same thing with a different name,” I murmur. What is he up to? He runs boiling hot and freezing cold from one minute to the next, and now I can’t decipher which it is. “And I don’t trust you.”
“Come,” he says, holding out his hand to me. “We can hardly go on as we are. I will lay out the terms, and then you can decide if you wish to decline or not.”
I look at his hand, doubtful. “You won’t hold me to it if I hear what you have to say and decide against it?”
“That is correct.”
I nod but don’t take his hand. He had sworn not to touch me, and I will hold him to it. Alaric’s fingers curl into his hand, forming a loose fist that hovers before he drops his arm back to his side. He chuckles lightly at the gesture.
“Pick up the dagger,” he says.
My heart stops for a second. There are a thousand different possibilities for him saying that. A fight to the death now, another threat… still, I do as he says, not taking my eyes off him as I do so.
“May I?” he asks, holding out his hand.
I debate whether or not to hand it over. Did this asshole just make me pick it up when he was capable? I glare but hand it to him, hilt first.
“That dagger is made of pure night-forged silver.” Alaric turns it over in his hand. “It is one of a kind.”
His eyes grow distant as he examines the blade as if it were more than what I see in it.
“What does that mean?” I ask softly.
His eyes slowly come back into focus. “It means,” he says, clearing his throat. “That it is the strongest metal ever made, and one of the few things that can kill a vampire or a demon. We can heal from most injuries, but when cut with night-forged silver, we heal at a human rate, thus when dealt a mortal wound with such a weapon, we will die as a human would.”
I swallow thickly. “Why would you tell me that?”
It’s common knowledge that vampires cannot survive decapitation or a pierced heart. But however grateful I am for this new information, I wonder why he would reveal such a secret to me, knowing I wish for his death, and why he would ever let me have it in my possession. Unless he is lying, and this is a test.
It’s hard to say.
Instead of answering, Alaric extends the dagger’s hilt toward me.
I hesitate, then slowly lift my hand and take it, half surprised when he doesn’t resist. There’s no trick, nothing. He only lowers his arm to his side.
“The bargain I propose is this: if you can manage to draw even a single drop of blood from me with this dagger, then you are free to return home to your family, and I will consider your debt paid in full.”
He will let me leave—I can go back to Kitty. My heart stutters in my chest. All I have to do is cut him. Then I swallow the thick lump in my throat that has formed.
“I cut you… and you will let me leave—” I narrow my eyes. “Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“What if I kill you?”
He raises his brows. “I would rather you didn’t. Drawing a single drop of blood will suffice, and then we can both go back to our lives. I will make sure no vampire comes after you or your sister.”
I finally look up to meet his eyes. “What does this have to do with…” I can’t bring myself to finish the question.
“Ah, yes,” he says as though it’s an afterthought. “For every failed attempt, you, my dear Clara, owe me a single kiss.”
“What?” I ask, entirely dumbfounded. I can’t possibly have heard him correctly. “A kiss? Why a kiss?”
He prowls forward until we are nearly touching again, but he doesn’t go any farther than that. “Because I want to see how sweet that sharp tongue of yours tastes. And because I want you to mean it when you try to stab me through the heart with my own weapon.”
Demons and saints… the things those words do to me right now.
“If I agree to this, then you can’t compel me ever again. I don’t like what it does to me.”
“I will accept that term… anything else?”
I shake my head. “I agree to your bargain.”
“Good, then it is done.”
My veins pulse in anticipation. My tongue darts out to wet my lips, his eyes following the movement. “What will happen if I never try to cut you?”
Alaric shrugs then moves back. “Then, you will stay here until the day you die, and you will never gain your freedom.”