by Ali Winters
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 a number of 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 remained, 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 feel myself start to waver and I shudder 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 he looks as though he’s holding himself back from something far more dangerous to us both.
And part of me is responding 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 completely 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 so I’m pressed tightly to him, in a hold that mimics the one he’d held that woman in. 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, leaning his face toward the crook of my neck, and 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 on your lips, 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, or both, but his mouth is on mine, hungry and devouring. I melt into him. I know I shouldn’t want him—he is everything I hate and 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 the demons,” I say.
I’m unsure what this thing between us is, or how I can want someone I have every reason to hate. 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. His thumbs graze 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.
Alaric lifts me up and I wrap my legs around him as he continues to kiss every patch of skin he can get to, 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 of it. There are a million thoughts 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, and nothing follows, 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.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Clara
The wind whips through the trees at the edge of the property as a late autumn storm rolls in from the west. Relaxing in the window seat of the library, I set the book I was reading to the side and wrap my arms around my legs, resting my cheek on my knee while I watch the tree boughs sway in the late evening light. Already the demons howling can be heard.
“Clara,” Alaric says my name quietly. Turning to him, I can’t help the warmth that pools in my core.
Alaric is dressed as usual, only with the addition of an overcoat in such a deep shade of red it almost looks black. Along the ends of his sleeves and trimming the collar is an even darker material with a subtle black damask pattern.
“You’re leaving,” I say.
He nods. “I have business I must take care of and won’t return until late.”
I drop my legs off the edge of the bench, making room for him. He sits, one leg propped up so he can face me.
“Is that all?” I ask when he doesn’t speak.
Even without his fangs bared or the ring of red that comes out when he wants to feed, there is something unearthly about him, something very vampire. I find that realization interesting, as the vampireness of him doesn’t repulse me as it once did. In fact, it has somehow given him an endearing quality.
And while I do hate vampires because there is still one out there responsible for Mother’s death… I find that I cannot hate this man as I wanted to believe I did and could.
I bite down on my lip as my breath catches. I don’t know if this change is because of what happened last night in the music room or if it is because he nearly died protecting me when I tried to run away. He was hurt because of me.
“I wanted to say goodbye before I left,” he says. “And to talk to you about something else.”
Alaric looks young, uncertain, and it doesn’t suit him. He’s avoiding saying whatever it is he has come to say and that makes me nervous. What can he say that is so terrible that neither of us would like it?
My blood chills at what he isn’t saying and part of me dreads that he will bring up last night. Neither of us have even tried to talk about what we almost did, how far we could have gone.
“Go on.” I tighten my hands into fits in my lap, my nails digging into my palms.
“Soon there will be things that happen that are outside of my control, and you will be in danger as you are unmarked…” he trails off, lifting his head. A lock of hair to falls across his brow.
My heart thuds against my ribs.
“Do you wish for me to mark you? It will make it known to any others who might cross your path that they cannot lay a finger on you, and it will allow you to resist compulsion. Most importantly, it will mean that no other can punish you for killing a vampire should anyone find out.”
They are all good points, I know logically that they are, especially if I want to stay alive. And there is every reason in the world to agree to such a thing.
Except one: It would mean I couldn’t leave him. I could never go home to Kathrine ever again.
“No,” I say quickly.
My stomach turns, watching his face fall in disappointment. “Clara, you have murdered a vampire, you know what that means. When they find out, they will punish you. Even I cannot stop them from finding out the truth. You will most likely die at their hands, and there will be nothing I can do to stop that from happening.”
“I understand… but I can’t accept a mark,” I say. I twist the hem of my sleeve around my finger, over and over. Then I ask a question that has been bothering me for some time. “Why do you care so much about one vampire you didn’t even know? Humans die every day at the hands of your kind.”
The pain is back in his eyes in an instant, pain and anger and… heartbreak. “She wasn’t just any vampire,” he says after a long moment. “She loved humans, refused to even drink their blood, and it made her weak.”
I finally understand his anger, his hate, his frustration. I took someone from him as a vampire had taken my mother from us.
“I didn’t want to see Kitty die at the hands of a vampire like Mother,” I say. “I was only trying to protect my sister.”
“So was I.” His voice comes out choked and laden with emotion.
I don’t know what he means at first but then, slowly, it comes into focus. The vampire I killed had been his sister. My entire world shifts at that. I had always been so consumed by my hate that I didn’t stop to think it could make me into what I hated, that there could be good and terrible vampires as there are humans.
Alaric stands abruptly. “I must go now, the hour grows late.”
Then he takes his leave without another word. I want to stop him and say so many things, but saying I’m sorry for killing your sister seems far too inadequate a sentiment. At any rate, he’s gone before I can even begin to find my voice.
I stay at the window seat for a while longer before roaming the manor, too distracted to read, and too guilty to eat.
“Miss,” Elise’s voice startles me.
I spin to face her.
“Will you be having dinner tonight, Miss?”
“No, thank you,” I say backing away, needing space to think more.
“The others and I will be staying late tonight, as the Master requested, if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” I say as I begin walking again in the direction I came from.
“The gardens are lovely this time of night,” she says quietly.
I smile wanly. “Thank you, but I don’t think I will be leaving the manor, it is almost dark.”
Again, I am stopped in my tracks as she speaks again. “The atrium is also lovely.”
My patience growing thin, I give her the best smile I can—strained as it is—and nod. There are only so
many times I can thank her for unnecessary suggestions that distract me from the thoughts weighing heavily on my mind.
Finally, she bows and goes on her way.
Letting my mind wander, my feet move of their own accord. It’s not until I am in the expansive music room again that I come out of my thoughts and look at my surroundings.
My face warms, remembering the way Alaric’s hands glided over my skin, the way his mouth felt on mine…
I hurry through the room and nearly run down the hall, stopping at the glass doors. When I pull them open, warm, humid air hits my face in a soft wave.
I’m instantly surrounded by the scent of roses and many other exotic flowers I don’t recognize. Botany was never a subject I excelled at, but their combined fragrances are beautiful. Oil lamps are placed sporadically throughout, making this feel like a cozy, sanctuary far removed from the world.
Plants of all kinds line the glass walls and a cobblestone path winds its way through the space. At the center of it all is a raised pool of water with the floral sculpture pouring fresh water into it.
On the far end, there’s a thin wrought iron, spiral staircase leading to a suspended balcony that encircles the entire room for yet another layer of plants. Thick vines climb up the stairs. About halfway up, between one floor and the next, is a clear view of the night.
I walk along the path, around the outer edges, and follow the long way to the pool in the center. I dip the tips of my fingers into the cool water as I pass, creating ripples that wake out.
I place my foot on the bottom step and grip the railing as it sways gently. It’s old and the lack of use makes me wonder who takes care of the plants above, and how. I place my foot on the next step up—this one stays firmly in place. After climbing a few more steps, it seems to only be the first that is loose.
Outside, the landscape is bathed in silver light as the full moon hangs heavy in the sky, drowning out the stars.
I stare outside, my gaze unfocused and unseeing. All I can think about is Alaric, the way he kissed me, the way he looked uncertain, how he asked to mark me, and how I had ruined his life. I had done to him what I was so afraid of having happen to me: the one person I have left in the world, taken from me.
