I pull in a deep breath and let it out, stretching my entire body. My legs are tired and a little sore. I sit up and look around, unsure how I got to my room…
A dull ache thrums behind my eyes, and I press the heel of my palm to my head. I need water. The last thing I remember was being in the drawing room with Alaric…
My hand flies to my mouth. He’s hurt.
I slide off the bed, my pulse pounding in my veins. I have to find him.
Still dressed in the clothes I wore yesterday, I race through the hall and down the stairs, nearly running into the drawing room's doorframe.
The fire burns. But the bowl of water and bloodied rags are gone. There is no evidence that Alaric and I were ever there.
I walk in and look at the wall next to the hearth where he had slumped against me, the spot where I had held him until I lost the battle to my own exhaustion.
I know I didn’t imagine it. I had run and been attacked by a lesser demon. Alaric had come and somehow chased them off. I know he fought a demon and was injured. Though they both moved impossibly fast, I had watched them fight. I know I had.
My leg… I was hurt. But since I woke up, I’ve been walking on it. It’s not even sore. I reach down and pull up the last of my trousers and look at my leg. There’s no sign of bruising or swelling.
But that isn’t right—I had felt the pain as that demon grabbed me and dragged me across the forest.
I make my way to the dining area to find it empty, not so much as a single cup set out. Then I make my way back upstairs to check the library, only to discover that it, too, is empty and cold for the lack of a fire. I don’t even hesitate, going to the third floor. Two rooms are locked, the first I assume to be his bedroom and the mysterious room from before. I knock on each and wait, only for no reply to come.
Only his study is all that is left. The door is ajar, and there is a fire crackling in the hearth, but Alaric is not there.
He couldn’t have died—but I would know… wouldn’t I?
I feel as if I am the only one in this large manor. Not even the servants are around… they have probably already left for the evening as the sun will set soon.
Returning to the bottom floor, I venture to the back, only to discover what I thought was a servant’s area is really another hall leading to a massive music room, fit for entertaining as many people as one could want.
Much like the rest of the manor, the floors and walls are dark mahogany wood. Windows cover the two outer walls. They are grouped into sets of three with pointed arches at the top and the center window being the largest.
The vaulted ceiling is broken up into four parts, giving the feeling of separating the room into several sections, each punctuated with a chandelier made of black metal and crystals.
Large decorative rugs are set around the room. In one section, along the south side of the room, is a black grand piano, and light from the candelabra atop it glitters like gold off the polished surface. Plush couches and chairs are situated within the sections.
In each corner of the room are built-in shelves housing several books.
I wander farther into the room, and there is another hall, half-hidden behind an illusion caused by shadows and heavy drapes leading toward what I believe is the atrium.
The rich scent of roses and other flowers perfume the air. I inhale deeply and follow it, content to be momentarily distracted in my search.
As I near the glass doors, tall, lush plants block the view inside. A woman’s voice drifts into the hall. I pause before the opening. Dim candlelight emanates from inside.
Near the center of the room, a large pool of water with a small fountain pours a thin stream of water from a winding sculpture of flowers and thorny vines.
The blood in my veins turns to ice. Alaric stands before it. He holds a woman tightly to him. One hand tilting her head to the side... and his mouth is pressed to her neck.
The rest of the world falls away and spots dance before my eyes, I inhale a sharp breath and blink, trying to get rid of them.
His gaze shoots up and locks on me. The slightest line of dark liquid drips down the corner of his mouth. I back up into the shadows.
“Leave,” he orders her, not breaking eye contact with me, and releases her from his arms as if she were nothing.
The woman giggles drunkenly then pouts when she sees that he’s done with her. Sullenly she walks away and out the glass doors into the night.
I continue to back up until I hit the wall, and even then, I press myself into it, trying to become invisible.
As soon as the doors close behind the woman, he prowls toward me. I turn and run.
I make it as far as down the hall to the music room when he catches up to me, blocking my path.
I back up, but with each step I take, he matches it with one of his own. I stop when the backs of my legs bump into one of the furniture pieces.
“What are you doing?” he snaps.
“I-I was looking for you… I was worried,” I stammer.
Alaric raises his brows in surprise. “Why in the Otherworld would you be worried?”
I lift my chin and ask, “What were you doing to her?”
The thin line of blood in the corner of his mouth is still there. He takes a step closer, and I ball my hands into fists at my side, determined not to move or flinch.
Until now, he had never shown this side of himself to me. He had consumed blood before, I know he had, but it was always in a glass, where my mind could come to terms with it. Seeing him drink from that woman, her intoxicated smile as he drained her life away, makes my stomach clench.
“Why does it surprise you that a vampire would need blood to survive?” he asks mockingly, his tongue darting out to lick at the blood. His fangs show themselves in a humorless smirk. “Did you expect I would live off air and moonlight?”
“You would have killed her,” I accuse him. Shock crosses his features before his eyes narrow.
I glare up into his face, meeting his gaze with unwavering steel in my own eyes. He takes one more step closer, closing what little space between us that remains, but he doesn’t move to touch me.
“Make no mistake, Clara, I am every inch the monster you have known us all to be,” Alaric practically purrs out, his voice sending shivers down my spine.
The way he speaks is both a threat and something deeply sensual all at once. The words caress my skin like the lightest touch of his fingers. I start to waver, shuddering at the realization that I want him to touch me.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I say, meaning it. He’s trying to scare me, but even now, if he wanted, he could have killed me before I could think to stop him. But he hasn’t, his posture isn’t even threatening, instead, Alaric looks as though he’s holding himself back from something far more dangerous to us both.
And part of me responds to that part of him.
I don’t think about what my life used to be, what it is now, the events that led me to this exact moment, the reasons why I should hate him, or anyone other than the man standing before me, and the way he makes heat curl in my veins.
His deep sapphire eyes darken until they are almost entirely swallowed by his pupils.
Without thinking, I lean forward and make contact with him. That slight touch is all he needs.
In a move too fast for me to see, one of his hands tangles in my hair, the other curves around my waist, and draws me into him. I can’t get away, even if I wanted to.
My breath picks up at the contact. Alaric’s warm breath brushes against my cheek. He tilts my head to the side, lowering his face to the crook of my neck, then places his mouth against my skin. I wait for him to bite down, but he doesn’t.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Clara,” he says against me. His lips caress the sensitive spot of skin as he leaves a trail of kisses, moving up my neck to my jaw.
“I want you,” I say breathlessly. I don’t mean to speak out loud, but the words slip out on their own.
He lets out a low groan deep in his chest and pulls back slightly, his eyes fluttering open to meet my gaze for just a second. The heat there startles me, and I feel my own desire grow. “Your words are a sweet poison, and I can’t help but drink them from your lips.”
I don’t know if it’s him that moves or if I do, but his mouth is on mine, hungry and devouring. I melt into him. I know I shouldn’t want him—he is everything I despise, and I am everything he loathes.
But I do want him. I want to lose myself in this moment, to drown in how he makes me feel, and it leaves an ache in my core.
I run my hands up his arms and lock them behind his neck. There’s something about that movement that makes him pull away.
He lets go of me and backs away. We look at each other as if we are both waking from a dream.
My skin still burns with his touch and his kiss, taunting me.
“I hate you,” I say, but my words lack venom.
He raises a single dark brow. “Because I am a vampire?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Yet, you stayed by my side all night, guarding me.” Alaric takes me in, suspicion darkening his expression.
“And you saved me from demons,” I say.
I’m unsure what this thing is between us or how I can want a vampire. I take a hesitant step forward. When he doesn’t retreat, I take another step, then another. I place my hands on his chest and wait for him to turn around and leave.
He stays. His hands find my waist and pull me to him. I drag my gaze up to meet his. Neither of us attempts to move for what could be seconds or hours. He leans forward and kisses me again.
The kiss is different this time, it is different than the ones I owed to him through our bargain. This one is soft and almost uncertain. After several moments, when neither of us pulls away, he deepens it. His mouth sweeps over mine. I make a breathy sound as he coaxes my lips open, and his tongue enters.
The very taste of him is intoxicating. I press myself against him, needing to be closer. My fingers fumble with his cravat until it’s undone, then I move to his vest. He responds in kind, undoing the buttons of my blouse.
The second his hands touch the bare skin of my ribs, he breaks our kiss. The hard length of him presses against my lower abdomen. Alaric's thumbs brush the undersides of my breasts, while his mouth continues trailing along my jaw and down my neck, pausing when he gets to the spot where my pulse pounds beneath my skin.
He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around him while he continues to kiss every patch of skin he can reach, going lower and lower. I gasp as he takes the peak of one breast into his mouth. His fangs graze my skin without piercing, sending delicious shivers all over, and all I can think about is what it would be like to have all of him pressed down on top of me.
Slowly, he lifts his head, his gaze smolders, and I almost have to look away from the sheer intensity. A million thoughts are swirling behind his eyes as he remembers himself, and as I remember everything I wanted to forget.
His hold on me loosens, and I slide down the front of his body. I don’t want to stop, and I can feel he doesn’t either.
“Clara,” he says my name then falls silent as if he’s lost for words.
I can’t blame him… I am too.
Neither of us wants to say what needs to be said, though we are both thinking it. We don’t break eye contact, but I release my hands from my efforts at removing his shirt as he redoes the buttons of mine.
There is far too much between us that we have not yet been dealt with.
As my passion dissipates, I realize all it would take from him is a single gesture or word or look, and I would gladly give myself over to him.
And as messed up as it is to crave him as I do, I know this isn’t his doing. He’s not using any power on me like I wanted to think.
Whatever we have between us is fucked up. There should be nothing but animosity, but there is so, so much more.
After we have straightened ourselves, he wordlessly offers me his arm. I take it and let Alaric guide me down the hall toward the stairs.
Neither of us speaks as we walk. When we reach the door to my room, I enter and turn to face him. He remains on the other side of the threshold.
“Do you know why I gave you that particular dagger and not one incapable of harming me?” he asks, cupping my cheek with his hand.
I shake my head.
“Because I knew that you would inevitably change me before you left. And I want a reminder of it, even if it is in the shape of a scar.”
There’s something so dark and disturbing about that, but it’s touching all the same.