by Ali Winters
I move past him and reach for the doorknob.
“You almost died tonight,” he adds quietly.
That stills me. My hand hovers over the door handle.
I was hurt—thrown from my horse, but I was lucky and nothing was broken. Give me a few days and I’ll be healed with nothing but a few new scars to show for it.
But almost died? It wasn't that bad.
“I don’t know if I can look at you right now,” I say.
Coward. I am a fucking coward.
He might have helped me bathe. He might have comforted me, he might have been the first person in my life to offer me kindness without asking for anything or expecting anything in return—but that doesn’t erase the deception and lies.
I had expected a protest from him, but he hasn’t said so much as a word.
After a few seconds, curiosity gets the better of me and I peek over my shoulder.
He isn’t mad, or annoyed, or even the slightest bit irritated by my stubbornness, as I would have expected. His eyes are wide and the corners of his lips tug downward. He stands perfectly, deathly, still.
“Why did you return, Clara?”
Why? Because I’m angry with him for lying… because I had nowhere else to go. Because even when I tried to kill him, he was never cruel or unkind.
My heart thumps painfully in my chest.
Friend… the word tumbles through my mind, and Otherworld damnit, he is. I don’t know how or when he became so, but he is, even if I didn’t realize it until this moment.
A vampire is my best friend. It explains why it hurt when he released me from our bargain the way he did.
I don’t answer him. How can I?
He swallows. The first sign that he’s not a perfectly carved statue. Then his gaze drops to the floor.
“Don’t leave. I won’t pretend to know or understand what you’re feeling…” The fingers of his right hand stretch out, then curl back into his palm, as if he wanted to reach for me but thought better of it. “Hate me if you must, Clara, just, don’t leave tonight. Heal, and then you can go when you are ready.”
If I didn’t know better, I would say he’s desperate to keep me here.
But he’s not. He wouldn’t have told me never to return if he gave a shit—wouldn’t have lied to me like that.
My jaw ticks with anger that burns away all hesitation.
I spin to face him and wince at the pain erupting through my leg. But I march forward before he can offer to heal me again or say another word.
“You don’t know why?” I ask. I stop before him and look up into midnight blue eyes. My fingernails bite into my palms. “You lied to me.”
His expression goes slack, full lips parting. I expect him to brush it off. Instead, he gapes, looking entirely bewildered.
“You kept things from me, made me believe there was a purpose to our deal. You asked me to trust you, and when I did… you lied.”
Alaric snaps his mouth closed as understanding dawns on him.
“You should have told me what you were planning. You could have told me the truth about Kathrine… that she didn’t need me, but you let me believe she did as you plotted behind my back, acting as if you didn’t know anything more than I did.” I heave a sigh and let my shoulders slip as hurt overpowers anger. “You lied to me, Alaric,” I finish in a near whisper.
He looks down at his feet. The gesture oddly youthful and so unlike him. It confirms everything I’d figured out. He knew Kathrine had never been sick… that she has never needed me.
“How did you find out?” he asks.
“She was never any good at keeping secrets. Then she mentioned our uncle… which is strange,” I say. “Because our parents never had siblings… then she said his name.” I pause. “Mr. Steward.”
Alaric flinches at the butler’s name. Still, he says nothing.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask. My voice is quiet, soft… and full of the betrayal I feel.
I shouldn’t be hurt, he’s a vampire… I should expect it. After all, they are horrible creatures that can’t be trusted. Except, to be betrayed in the first place, there has to have been a foundation of trust. I’m struck by a twinge of guilt.
But Alaric isn’t like that. He is kind. Honorable. Nothing like the monsters I’d always believed vampires to be.
The man I’ve come to know returns. Confident… yet sadness clings to his eyes. “I wanted to give you the best chance at getting back your old life, if not a little better.”
I wasn’t expecting that.
He wanted me to return to my life as it was before he claimed me. But a few hours with Kathrine made it clear to even me that it was impossible.
I could never go back. That life was a lie I’ve been telling myself every day since Mother was taken. It was never real.
Tears come unbidden and burn my eyes, blurring my vision. I clench my fists again and close most of the distance between us. I pound my fists against his chest. Pathetically weak, a strike that wouldn’t phase a blade of grass.
“Did you honestly think I could go back to that life?”
He lifts a hand and presses it against mine until my palm is flat against his chest. He keeps it pinned there, and underneath, I can feel the even beat of his heart.
“What do you mean, Clara?”
I lean forward and rest my forehead against his chest. Weariness seeps into me, down to the very marrow of my bones.
“Everyone knew I had been claimed. I couldn’t have gone back even if Kathrine needed me.” I sigh. The rush of the last several days, being chased by a higher demon and attacked, and crying, have finally caught up to me. I am stripped down to the depths of my core and left raw, so all that is left is the dull ache in my heart. “You just sent me away without talking to me first. You didn’t even say goodbye,” my voice cracks on the last word.
Saying it out loud makes it feel more real. Otherworld damnit… he has become dear to me.
He wraps an arm around my waist then lifts my chin with a knuckle. “At the time, I thought it was best. I recognize my error now. Can you ever forgive me, my dear Clara?”
My throat tightens at the endearment. At first, he used it to mock me. I’m not sure when it changed.
I nod, unable to speak. I do forgive him.
After a long moment, I clear my throat and ask, “What happens if I leave before the winter masquerade… for good, that is?”
He hums thoughtfully. “You will be hunted—unless I can fake your death.”
“You would do that?”
“If that’s what you wanted,” he says.
“And… what would happen to you?”
“That is not for you to worry about.” There’s a finality to his words. A warning to not dig further. But a telling shiver rolls over him, and whatever that fate might be—it is not a good one.
“I could stay until then,” I say.
“You don’t have to decide now.” Alaric brushes his fingertips across my forehead, moving stray wisps of hair off my face. Then he pulls back, keeping his arm around me, and says, “Come, you must get some rest.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Clara
Walking is less painful with his help. Alaric leads me to the bed and helps me to sit. Once my weight is off my leg, the ache lessens, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Will you allow me to heal you now?” he asks.
I can see in his expression that he’s expecting me to refuse.
“Yes, please,” I say, then something between a laugh and a groan burbles up between my lips. “It really does hurt.”
He kneels in front of me. His eyes are instantly focused as one hand rests on my knee, the other raises my leg closer to his face by my heel. Slowly, he unwinds my makeshift bandage.
I hiss in a breath through my teeth. The fresh air and lack of pressure make the gouges in my leg feel newly made.
Alaric takes his time as he examines them from several angles. The skin is even angrier looking than
before.
I gasp, struggling to breathe when he places his palm directly on top. My arms give out, and I fall to my back.
Alaric doesn’t acknowledge my reaction. His eyes close, his forehead wrinkling. I was unconscious when he’d healed my hand.
A small squeak comes from atop the pillows. Cherno. The demon crawls forward, ignoring me and crawling to his master.
Sure, why comfort the injured human when you could check on the vampire causing pain?
A rosy glow lights his face. I sit up, resting on my elbows, and peer over my knees. Red magic sparks over his hands and arms in glowing veins. A tingle of power seeps into my flesh, the sensation is all at once intense and overwhelming.
It hurts, almost as much as when I’d received the injury. I want to curl into a ball, to scream, to run from it. It’s cold and it burns, and I swear it will suffocate me even as it soothes.
Black spots move across my vision.
“A-Alaric…” I gasp his name. Or, I think I do. I can’t tell if my mouth is working or if it was an inaudible breath of air.
Time is lost as the universe seems to explode around me, and I’m stuck in this moment for an eternity, trying to catch my breath.
Without warning, the magic releases me, and I collapse backward, pulling in deep gulps of air. I press a cold hand to my suddenly burning forehead.
The mattress shifts and I blink up into Alaric’s face, but he’s not even looking at me.
He straddles my hips and pulls my shirt up to expose everything from below my breasts. I’m too out of it to protest. He presses his palms to my ribs. His fingers splay across my flesh, covering most of my abdomen.
A look of intense focus sits on his features, and crimson circles the sapphire of his eyes, but unlike when he needs to feed… it’s glowing. His eyes slide shut once more.
Red magic forms in veins over his hands clasped to my sides, brightening. I only have half a second to think how beautiful he looks before the tingling starts anew, and I’m filled with that same overwhelming sensation.
My spine arches as every muscle in my body spasms. A scream scrapes up my throat but catches and dies.
I try to reach for him, to tell him it’s too much, but I can’t control my limbs, so I twitch and flail.
An eternity passes before my lungs work again. I draw in a sharp gasp of air and collapse back into the bed.
Alaric climbs off me and gathers me in his arms, pulling the shirt back down. He holds me to his side, trailing his fingers up and down my spine in soothing strokes.
“What was that?” I ask. It’s an overly simplified version of the question I wish to ask.
He helps me sit up then loosens his embrace.
“That is how my power works. I forgot you were unconscious the last time, I should have warned you—”
I press the pads of my fingers to his mouth, silencing his apology. I stare in complete awe at my leg. In place of the three long gashes are soft pink lines. What amounts to days or weeks of healing has just taken place in moments. The skin is smooth, so the scars will be almost nonexistent.
I face him again, wrapping my arms around his neck, and quietly say, “Thank you.”
He hesitates only a second before his arms band around me, squeezing harder than before now that I’m healed.
We stay like this until a yawn forces its way out. Alaric pulls back, disengaging from my embrace.
“Wait,” I say, grabbing his wrist. “Don’t go yet.”
I hadn’t meant to stop him, but I don’t want to be alone right now. I’ve felt alone since the moment he sent me back to Littlemire, and I need a friend right now.
He settles himself back down, sitting against the headboard, his legs stretched out before him. I scoot into his side, our hips touching, and rest my head on his shoulder.
“It is a good thing you bathed,” he says. I stiffen, leaning away to look up into his smirking face. “You smelled like a demon’s ass.”
I swat at his shoulder and he laughs, tucking me closer.
I’ve never had anyone I could sit like this with, saying nothing, doing nothing. This moment holds the peace of solitude. I curl into him—this unexpected source of comfort and safety.
Safety in the arms of a vampire.
Months ago, I would have said it was impossible, and yet, somehow, that’s exactly what I’ve found in this man.
He picks up my hand and entwines our fingers together. His thumb creates slow, lazy circles on my skin.
“When you leave tomorrow, please say goodbye—I know I didn’t give you that courtesy, but I won’t be returning.”
I freeze and swallow past the lump stuck in my throat. “I thought we were coming back here after the solstice.”
Alaric pulls in a slow, deep breath then says, “That was when you were joining me.” His fingers squeeze mine. “It would mean a lot if you say goodbye.”
“I will.”
He will never come back. I had every intention of leaving and never seeing him again. It shouldn't matter, and yet hearing him say that leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
I lift my head to look at him, but he turns away. “What’s wrong?”
“Where will you go when you leave?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly and rest on his shoulder once more. “I hadn’t thought past coming to tell you how furious I was.”
He chuckles at that, resting his cheek atop my head.
A long moment passes. Exhaustion tugs at me, and the lull of sleep eases its way through my body.
“I don’t want you to go,” he confesses, whisper soft.
“Then I will stay,” I mumble, snuggling further into his side.
Alaric shifts and leans away. I groan to protest the loss of warmth and sit up.
His face is deathly serious as he says, “You are always welcome by my side. You must understand that your life will be in constant danger if you stay—even coming back was a risk.”
I suddenly feel the urge to stay when just a few hours ago I was set on leaving. All it took to change my mind was him admitting he wanted me to stay… despite the danger. “Can you leave Nightwich if I go with you?”
The muscle in his jaw ticks, then he reluctantly nods.
“I’ve fared well enough so far. I thought I was going to die within hours when you claimed me—by all rights, we both know I should have.” He opens his mouth to protest, but I hold up a hand and continue. “Every minute I live from that moment on is a bonus, time I never should have had. And… I want to stay,” I add reluctantly.
Demons and saints. I am really going to do this. I’m willingly choosing to stay with a vampire.
But then, I only have to look into his eyes to know everything he’s done was with good intentions. For some reason, Alaric feels loyalty for me. I can’t leave him as if that means nothing, because everything in me is demanding my loyalty to him.
“Your life will be in danger from the moment we arrive until we leave.”
“That is nothing new,” I murmur. “I would rather die than live my life as a prisoner to fear and locked away.”
He frowns but, eventually, whatever he planned to say dies unspoken.
“Very well,” he says, then places a kiss on my forehead as he pulls me into him once more.
I nestle into his side, getting comfortable, and close my eyes.
“I have missed you, my dear Clara,” he whispers against my hair.
I smile. “You missed me?”
“Yes,” he says, his tone serious. “There is nothing about you I haven’t missed.”
“Even when I try to kill you?” Another yawn.
I feel his mouth turn up into a smile against my head.
“Especially then.” He runs his fingers through my hair in a move that is far too relaxing. “It is so dull here without a regular attempt on my life.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Clara
Everything is exactly the same as the night when I was first introduced to a ro
om full of vampires: the same room, the same faces, the same atmosphere. Predators lounge, their prey at their sides, gazes downcast… and I am somewhere in between. Not exactly hunted, but far from being the hunter.
Except, it is different. Now I don’t seek a way to escape. Now, I know this isn’t a party but a gathering. Nothing more than Alaric entertaining his guests.
The first time I had naively thought it was a party, but after my short time back in Littlemire, among the upper class, I know better.
Alaric stands at the window across the room, talking in low tones with Mr. Harkstead. The light of the moon lines his silhouette in silver.
A human man sits at the piano playing quiet songs, filling the room with dark, subtle sounds. Not enough to drown out what little talking there is.
I hold my wine glass in one hand and keep my heartbeat slow and steady. This time I will keep my wits instead of drowning my nerves. I will be the perfect picture of calm.
Next to me, Cassius grins a smile meant to accentuate his elongated canines.
“I must say, little bird, we had begun to think our Alaric had no hold over you,” he says. The corners of his mouth lift upward. “Lawrence doubted your return more than anyone else, it made me wonder if you were perhaps not marked after all.”
The snake curled around his shoulders moves slowly, its silver tongue flicking at the air, metallic, dark green scales glinting in the candlelight. Red eyes watch me, but I do my best to ignore their presence.
I list my head to the side and blink up as though I have no idea what he’s talking about. They know the truth, but that will not stop us from playing this game.
“He was so generous, allowing me to go to my sister for her wedding, and at such an inconvenient time for him.” My words are coated in honey and innocence as I speak the practiced lines.
“Mmmm,” he hums in agreement.
A woman with a tray of glasses filled with a dark, red liquid saunters by. Cassius reaches out and snags one, drinking the entire thing in a single gulp. He wipes his mouth, trying to hide his grimace.