by Ali Winters
“No,” I snarl.
He releases me. I stumble back, panting and exhausted. I drag the back of my hand across my mouth and back away. “I did not follow that command.”
“He failed to compel her entirely,” Crooked nose announces to the room.
Elizabeth nods and waves her hand. “Then proceed, Mr. Hughes.”
The second man wraps his fingers around my shoulders from behind, startling me with his touch. He lowers his mouth to my ear and whispers his compulsion.
It’s too soon. I’m not ready. I don’t get a chance to fight or regain my composure. His power scratches across my skin, and I can feel it take hold of my muscles.
I run from him toward the first and throw myself into his arms.
“Don’t let him compel me.” The words rip themselves from my mouth, unbidden.
The first vampire catches me, a look of shock on his face that melts into victory. I lift up on my toes and press my mouth to his. He deepens the kiss.
My hands slide down his chest to his sides as I take a step back. He smiles, thinking he won.
I lift my arm and swing. He doesn’t even notice what’s happening as the blade of his own sword slices through his neck without resistance. His head thumps loudly on the floor, the smile still on his face.
Several things happen all at once. The sword falls from my hand, clattering loudly. His body falls with a heavy thump onto the smooth white marble floor. Massive amounts of blood pour out like a river, and the room erupts into a deafening cacophony of screams and shouts.
Elizabeth calls for the room to silence, but it’s several minutes before the noise softens enough for anyone to speak and be heard.
Behind me, the crooked nose vampire raises his voice to the room, “She obeyed my compulsion without hesitation… exactly as a controlled human ought to. There is no reason to continue this.”
A low buzzing fills my ears. I can’t stop staring at the body. Red is everywhere, swallowing up the room. As the pool of red grows, I step back. It’s useless. I am already covered in blood. Splatters cover my dress, and the hem is damp and heavy. I take two steps back, but the river of crimson follows me.
“She will go to Mr. Hughes,” Elizabeth says, eyeing the body.
“No,” Alaric says.
Elizabeth turns to him, a single brow quirked.
A warm hand slides into mine and pulls me away, breaking the trance. Alaric strides toward the queen, dragging me behind.
“She is mine.” His voice booms throughout the room. “She owes me a life debt, and I will not allow anyone to keep me from collecting.”
I squeeze his hand, more thankful for his touch at this moment than anything else in my life.
Elizabeth saunters forward with unnerving grace and calm, stopping halfway down the steps to remain above us, looking down.
“You know the rules. If a claimed human is not fully marked within one month’s time, they are for bid by any vampire who wishes to vie for them—and that time has come and gone. Besides… she killed Mr. Thomas.”
My heart hammers painfully against its bone cage.
A muscle ticks in Alaric’s jaw. The room is once again silent, waiting with bated breath for his reply.
“Whether Alexander compelled her to end Jasper is of no consequence. Her life is mine.” He takes three slow steps forward. He lowers his voice, and there is an unmistakable growl when he says, “She owes me a life debt for murdering Rosalie in cold blood. I claimed her for that crime.”
Behind us, a mix of gasps and snarls breaks out.
Spots dance across my vision as the world sways. I can barely breathe. The stares of vampires prickle against my skin.
Elizabeth growls low, taking a step back in what appears to be surprise, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes.
For a heartbeat, I wonder if she will leap forward and rip my throat out with her sharp nails—anything to keep Alaric from marking me.
The queen scans the room, taking in every detail as if she’s looking for a way to deny him. Her nostrils flare. My gaze flicks to the court members who have pushed their way to the front of the crowd. Every single one of them stands with their arms at their sides, expressions blank.
This is all an act.
No one outside that room knew that I killed Rosalie, and I doubt that anyone was told of the other vampires I killed, let alone that I am a slayer. Now, they know of the vampire on the ground behind us as well. Even if I was compelled to murder him, I doubt it would make a difference.
“Fine,” Elizabeth bites out after a long moment. “Claim her now, and be done with it, or I will personally take care of her myself.” She spins on her heel and waves her hand.
There’s a flurry of activity around us. The violin starts playing as if it had never stopped.
Alaric pulls me to him, and the blue depths of his eyes trap me where I stand. He tightens his arms in a swift motion. Unprepared for the sudden movement, I stumble, catching myself, fingers splayed on his chest.
Everything else seems to fall away. My fingers dig into the material of his jacket.
Alaric hesitates, and I realize he’s waiting for me to consent. Even now, he’s letting me decide if I would rather accept his mark or die.
I blink slowly and mouth, “Do it.”
Neither of us has a choice. I do not want to belong to anyone but myself, but if I must choose, then I choose him.
Alaric lifts a hand and brushes my hair off my shoulder. He leans forward slowly. My breaths become shallow as he dips his head to in the crook of my neck. His lips faintly brush along my skin. I can’t tell if he kissed me or if it was only his breath.
“It’s all right,” I whisper.
He says something along my skin, but I can’t hear him past the roar of blood in my ears, drowning out the world around us.
There’s a sharp sting as his fangs pierce my skin. My face warms. There are too many eyes on us, too many vampires witnessing this intimate moment.
His mouth moves against my neck as if he were merely placing gentle kisses. With each pull of my blood, I can feel his power seeping into me. It’s warm and familiar. The same power flowed through me each time he used it to heal my wounds, but this time, it’s different, smooth, with no hint of searing heat.
The sensation of something right clicks into place, becoming stronger. It’s building, building, building until I don’t think I can hold anymore, and it will rip me into a thousand shattered pieces.
And then it’s too much… suffocating, burbling toward the surface. My head falls back, but he doesn’t stop.
My hands fall away and hang limply. I wait for a scream to rip free of my throat, but it never comes.
He’s taking too much. Every ounce of energy seeps from my muscles until my knees give out. Alaric clutches me to his chest, his arms banded tightly around my waist. He’s the only thing keeping me from falling.
I want to tell him it’s too much, but I can’t seem to make my mouth work.
He pulls away. I glance at him through slitted eyes and blurred vision, struggling to keep hold of consciousness.
A warm trickle of blood seeps from the puncture wounds at my neck. It feels scalding hot against my cold skin.
“It is done,” he says to the room.
Alaric shifts, curling an arm under my knees. Everything tilts. Then, I’m pressed against him, warm and secure. His arms tighten protectively.
Then, I let the darkness take me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Clara
I wake with a start. Gasping for air, I wince at the sharp throb pounding against my skull, and press a hand to my head to quell the pain. My thoughts are a hazy mess, and I’m not quite sure how I ended up here—or even where here is.
Slowly, my mind catches up to the moment. This is Alaric’s room at Nightwich, and last night, he gave me the third and final mark. My hand flies to the spot where he bit me.
I slide out of bed and shuffle across the room. I’m out of breat
h by the time I make it to the mirror in the bathing room. A fine sheen of sweat dampens my forehead.
I’m no longer wearing the storm gray dress but one of Alaric’s shirts. There’s a small sense of comfort in the familiarity of the item. Pulling the collar back, I examine the bite mark. The skin is smooth and healed over, and the two additional scars are light pink. My older scars have faded to little more than slightly raised, pale lines.
There’s an echo in my chest, like the ghost of a second heartbeat. I press my palm over my heart, rubbing at the new sensation.
“You’re out of bed,” Alaric says. There’s a soft click as the door closes behind him. “You should rest more, give the power time to settle.”
“The queen,” I say. The words come out sharp. Spinning, I face him as even more details of last night come flooding back to me.
Alaric’s brows shoot up in question.
“She already knew about Rosalie. How…” I shake my head, pressing a palm to my temple.
“Only the court knew, and she didn’t expect me to announce it in front of everyone.”
“But you did,” I say slowly.
He nods. “It was a calculated risk.”
Alaric closes the distance between us, his gaze unwavering from the bite marks on my neck. He reaches up and, with the softest touch, brushes the tiny scars with his fingertips. It sends tingles rushing along my skin.
“If this hadn’t been the final mark, they would have ripped you to shreds or would have expected me to drink every last drop of your blood.”
I swallow, not wanting to think about that anymore.
“I wouldn’t have let that happen,” he says quietly.
And I believe him.
Alaric shifts his weight, his chest pressing lightly against mine. I lean into him, into his warmth and that slight touch causes desire to rip its way through me. The closer he is, the stronger I feel our connection and the echoing heartbeat.
“How are you feeling?”
Thankful for the change of subject, I close my eyes and take a moment to assess my body. Opening them again, I expel a breath and say, “Good. A little tired, but… good.”
Alaric wraps me up in his arms. “I am sorry. It was the only way to squash all doubts.” His thumb brushes over the scar. “I’m sorry for this too, Clara.”
His long, thick lashes lower, shielding his eyes. He doesn’t just mean for the scar. He means for giving me the final mark because that decision was taken from both of us.
Whatever my destiny is now, it’s tied with his.
There’s a strange feeling running through me, like blood pumping through my veins but separate. It feels at home as if it was always there, and I’d never noticed it before. A part of me has finally woken after hibernating for over twenty years.
I lick my lips and speak words I know he needs to hear, words that are true. “If it hadn’t been you, then I would have been reclaimed by another. I do not regret it.”
The corners of his mouth twitch into the ghost of a smile. Then, his arms are around me, crushing me to him. I curl into him, needing his touch as much as he needs mine. With one arm banded around my waist, he runs the fingers of his free hand through my hair. I wrap my arms around his neck and inhale his musky scent.
Even though my fatigue and the strange power of his humming through every nerve ending, I am more aware of him than ever before. I bring my hand up between us and rest it on his chest.
Alaric pulls back, giving me a questioning look. I stare at his chest. I can’t feel his heart through his muscle and skin, but I can sense every time his heart beats.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I can sense you,” I explain. He cants his head to the side, so I elaborate, “Your heart… and your breath.” I shake my head feeling stupid. This close up, any idiot could. “It’s more than—I don’t know—I think I could feel them even if you were somewhere else in the world.”
His quiet laugh rumbles deep in his chest. “I can feel you as well.”
I sway on my feet, leaning on him for support, suddenly overwhelmed by processing everything all at once.
“You’re exhausted, Clara. You shouldn’t be up.” He tries to pick me up, but I swat at his hands.
“I’m a little tired,” I say. “I’m not going to break.”
He chuckles and settles for offering an arm. I rest my head against his arm as we make our way across the room, wanting the extra contact.
“You didn’t come for me in the dungeon,” I say quietly, immediately regretting the words.
Alaric stops walking. Letting go of my arm, he swings me around to stand between him and the bed.
“Had I gone, you would never have made it out alive.” He reaches up and cups the nape of my neck with his palm. His thumb strokes along the edge of my jaw. “I tried to send Lawrence, but even he couldn’t manage it.”
I open my mouth to ask why he would send a man who hates me, but then something else rises to the surface of my memory, something more important.
“This is going to sound insane,” I start, looking at him wryly, watching his expression turn from pained to confusion. I lick my lips and feel the words on the tip of my tongue. “I think… I’m being haunted by a greater demon.”
He doesn’t speak for a long moment then shakes his head. “That isn’t possible,” he says slowly. “Greater demons are rare. There was the demon that nearly killed you when you returned from Littlemire…” He rakes a hand through his thick, black hair. “Oliver said the demon vanished after we left. They will migrate, but they aren’t known to follow people, let alone haunt them.”
“I think what we thought were night terrors was actually this demon,” I say. My voice wavers, sounding small to my ears.
I hate it. Saying it out loud feels like admitting I’ve lost my mind.
There’s no taking the words back now. I wouldn’t blame him if he regrets tying himself to me.
“Demons and saints, you think I’m insane. I should have—”
“Clara,” Alaric says, cupping my face with both of his hands and tilting my head up until I look him in the eye. He ducks his head to eye level, searching my gaze with his. “I’m glad you told me.”
He places a kiss on my forehead.
“They didn’t feel like dreams,” I say.
“Night terrors can have a way of seeming real. They have a way of playing with your mind even after you’re awake.” He offers me a half-hearted smile. “Yours are the worst I’ve seen. It isn’t that I don’t believe you because I do, but what you’re describing, what I’ve experienced… it isn’t normal demon behavior. It would make more sense as the result of being around several higher demons for the first time in your life. Without being gradually introduced to so many different powers, there are side effects.”
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I take in his words. He’s right. He is bound to a demon. He understands them, where I have only known lesser demons from a distance. It wasn’t until he claimed me that I’d been near a higher demon for the first time.
When I was in the dungeon, I was delirious from blood loss. It would make sense for the night terrors to return.
I nod, letting out a small laugh. “You’re right.”
Alaric watches me, looking for a lie, but there isn’t one.
I don’t want to think about demons anymore. I want to think about the beautiful, Otherworldly man before me, about how lucky I am that I’m alive and still with him… I want to appreciate this moment between us.
I clasp one of his hands in both of mine then entwine our fingers. Everywhere we touch is a tingle of power dancing under my skin, and judging from his sharp intake of breath, I know he feels it, too.
Alaric’s hand slides from my cheek to the back of my neck. His fingers tangle in my hair and draw me in, bringing his mouth down on mine.
Desire, bright and blinding, ignites through my veins like wildfire. He breaks away to trail kisses down my neck, stopping on the final mar
k. His lips brush the sensitive skin.
It frightens me how much I want this man, how much he means to me. I still can’t name exactly what it is I feel, but I know it’s different than anything else I’ve ever experienced, burning hotter than the sun.
“I swear that this will be the last thing that will ever scar you.”
My heart warms at Alaric’s proclamation. He means every word of it, but I know it’s an impossible promise.
Despite the reason he claimed me, he has always tried to protect me. I still have the scars from the night-forged dagger striped across my arms, the webbing of scars from Victor at the base of my neck just below Alaric’s precise, small, punctures, and the three deep lines that run down my lower, left leg.
“You can’t always protect me,” I say.
He pulls back and smiles. “You don’t need my protection. You are human, and that is your greatest strength.”
A thin red line forms around his deep sapphire eyes. He grips my hips and pulls me into him.
Then, he’s kissing me again, harder this time. His fangs elongate. My tongue brushes one sharp point, just enough to draw a single drop of blood. He moans against me, wrapping his arms tighter against my waist.
Every brush of his tongue against mine, every caress of his hands as they roam over my body just feels right. My exhaustion melts away, replaced with a need I can’t fight.
I grab his shirt and tug it free from his waistband. My palms move up the rippled muscles of his stomach, gliding across his skin, bunching his shirt.
He releases me long enough to lift it up over his head and toss it carelessly behind him. A smile forms on his lips, and my heart wrenches in my chest. Then, he grips the shirt I wear and pulls it off over my head. Cool air flows over my hot skin as he presses me to him once more.
His eyes roam slowly down my body then back up to my face.
“Clara…” He whispers my name as he places a series of kisses along the edge of my jaw then trailing down my neck.
Alaric draws back to look at me. His eyes drink me in and set my skin ablaze. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my mouth to his to deepen the kiss.
