Page 22

Twenty

HARLOW

“You sounded worried.”

Worried? No. Never. Not about him. Even if the marks on his side looked really bad. If I’m lucky, when he crawls into bed— bed , not coffin—the injuries won’t be healed, he’ll die from blood loss, and I’ll be able to escape.

A senseless fantasy, of course.

“No one knows I’m here, and I’d rather not starve to death. Speaking of, I’m hungry, if you’re feeling generous enough to feed me today.” I’d eaten the final granola bar hours ago, despite debating holding off until I had the guarantee of more food.

“Apparently I’m feeling quite generous today.” I assume he’s talking about the fact that he’s the reason I didn’t become a meal for Laz and Nikolas, but then a bag gets dropped by my feet. “Here. I’m tired of you smelling like the dungeon.”

It’s an insult and a compliment rolled into one, returning pre-attack Alec to me. There’s a comfort in the known, so I’m pleased about his standoffish personality. Curious, I flip open the bag, immediately recognizing it as one from my room. Inside, I find my clothing. Various tops, pants, and even more pyjamas. At first, a sense of gratitude consumes me, but it’s quickly replaced by alarm when realizing where he got these.

“You went to my house.”

Wordlessly, he reaches beside his chair and retrieves something else before handing it to me.

Gram’s grimoire. It was hidden in my closet, placed there after Mom’s and Dad’s deaths, when I had no more magick and couldn’t bear to look at it. It was a painful reminder of learning my powers the first time.

“For that,” he explains. “If you’re going to relearn your magick, then you need your spell book or whatever that is. Something witchy to connect you to your powers.”

His kindness makes sense. He went to my house for himself, not me. Still, glancing towards the bag of fresh clothing, it’ll make this hellish situation slightly better—for now, at least.

“The book won’t re-spark my magick. Witches are born with their powers and come into them with puberty. The grimoire simply helps with potions and spells. Like a recipe book.”

His expression pinches, and he waves his hand. “Then use the book to un-age yourself and redo puberty or something. Do whatever you must until you’re able to go bibbidi-bobbidi-boo and make the cure functional.”

Yet another no.

Right now, Alec wants my magick more than I do, which means he’s vulnerable to making deals.

One of my hands curls on my lap, slightly disbelieving what I’m about to do. The other pushes into the armrest. “Not until you give me something in return.”

“Your life isn’t good enough?” A brow arches, but he doesn’t look away from the window. “Besides, how I see it, I already saved you tonight. You owe me.”

Rage flashes down my spine, forcing it straight. “You saved me because you think of me as your property.”

“You are my property,” he snaps, his attention flicking away from the window.

“Fuck you. I want to know exactly why I’m here. I want your history and how it links with my family.”

Something passes over his expression. His eyes narrow in the corners, his hands gripping the chair’s armrests. Then he sighs like I’ve asked him to slice off a fang.

“Fine,” he grunts. “You won’t like it, though.”

“Was I supposed to enjoy the kidnapping?” I ask sarcastically. “Maybe I’ll start accepting shit if I know the reason behind your actions.” I never will, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Whatever you say, hellion.”

He casts me a look full of doubt, but after a moment, sweeps me into a tale of another time, another world. A history I could never have dreamed up, and a nightmare I’d never want to.

“I lied when I said I was a king in my mortal life, and that I conquered this place. It was always mine to inherit because I was the prince, heir to the throne, son to the ruling monarch. Only, I took it from him much earlier than intended, so in a way, I did conquer it. My father wasn’t a good man, even by history’s standards—which, I should note, are much different than present. Parents followed different rules. Ethics and laws were crueller. And mine were the cruellest I knew, to both me and my sister, Cora.”

A sister? The asshole vampire is a brother ? Somehow, I don’t get that from him. Siblings are supposed to love one another, have a good bond and all that—not that I have personal experience—and imagining Alec having loved anyone, even when love was a possible emotion for him, seems impossible.

“Cedric—you met him at the party—was my best friend…and was very much in love with Cora. Cora returned the sentiment and longed to wed him, but Father always refused the match because he was a stableboy, and too low in station for a princess. No matter how many times I begged him to make Cedric a knight, allowing him to work up to a ranking a bit more suited for her, Father never agreed.” His tone sharpens.

“You didn’t like that?”

“Station may have been important for alliances, but I wanted my sister happy, and Cedric made her the happiest. Our father got tired of the begging, so he began seeking his own alliance for her. At the same time, wars were breaking out all over the place as sides competed for territory. As humans, we didn’t realize the people we were fighting were witches—didn’t know witches existed. The one particular coven giving us issues housed a certain family.”

“Sinclairs,” I fill in the gap, and he nods. “Wait. If you were battling Sinclairs, that means this castle— us —is near—” My mouth clamps shut, though I’ve already given too much away. Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that, should have held on to what little hints he’s allowed slip.

Alec chuckles. “Highridge Coven? No, that was before the coven inhabited Banff. Don’t read more into this story, Hellion. As if I’d give you anything that could help you escape.”

I study his face, seeking whether it’s a lie or not, but after who knows how many centuries alive, he’s either a really good liar or telling the truth.

“To end the fighting between our kind, Father offered Cora to the coven as a peace treaty. An arrangement, since that was how so many mortal disagreements were solved. For that, station no longer mattered to him. Nor Cora, and I feared for her safety. Mother and Father packed her up and sent her off.” Alec pauses, his tongue sweeping his bottom lip in a way that momentarily makes my brain stop functioning. Only for a moment, because the vulnerability seeping from him makes me feel…well, empathetic. “In truth,” he murmurs, “I think Father was happy to be rid of her. My parents only intended to have me, the heir. A daughter was never part of his plans.

“I was there when the transfer happened. Was there to see Cora scream and cry for Father to return her home.” Alec’s hands fist the armrests again, this time the metal crying beneath the force. “He walked away without a backwards look, so I planned an attack to get her back. Cedric joined me, and the next night, we went armed to where the coven made camp.”

I lean forwards, captivated by his story. So far sad, and I’m suspecting it’s about to get worse. “You failed?”

“In part. We succeeded in getting Cora out of the tent, but that’s all. Turns out, the Sinclairs had deals with vampires—a species we’d only heard about. Back then, the world was more faith-based, and there were rumours of a devil’s child running around, drinking the blood of humans, though nothing had been confirmed until that moment. The coven sent the vampires after us, and our mortal speed was no match for theirs.” He stops, wiping his hand along his mouth. “To this day, I don’t know why the group changed us instead of killing us like the coven instructed. But when we woke up the next day, all three of us were in transition, and instincts told us how to complete it. The coven disappeared, and with our transition, we were all filled with a bloodlust I simply can’t explain. It was more than a need to kill. It felt like I’d die if I didn’t get revenge. I had it the worst, more than Cedric and Cora. I blamed my parents for what happened. Father, for giving Cora to the coven and not allowing her to wed Cedric, and Mother, for doing nothing to stop it. So I returned here, slaughtered them, and took the castle for myself.”

His callous words, spoken with a chilliness the beginning of his story didn’t have, make me flinch. No sign of regret or dismay; just cold facts. I open my mouth, uncertain how to reply.

His smirk is a twisted coil of no regrets. “Like I said yesterday, I, too, killed my parents, only mine deserved it.”

“What happened after that? You began hating Sinclairs?”

“Yes, because they, too, were at fault, considering they sent the vampires after us, but my hatred for them didn’t really spark until much later. You see, a few things had come from our transition. My parents were no more, and Cora and I were free. Cora and Cedric got to be together while I ruled in my father’s place. We fed on anyone and everyone, won every battle. Life was fucking good .” A sense of peace that makes my bones cold crosses his expression. “We were gods ,” he continues. “Powerful and unstoppable. Cedric and Cora lived here for a while, but eventually went off on their own.

“During that time, wars between vampires and witches were mounting because neither side had ever gotten along. All over the world, the two sides fought…and we were no exception. There were challenges up north, so I left here to assist and met up with Cora and Cedric. One night, Cora was hunting in the woods, and your ancestor, Elizabeth Sinclair, captured her. Killed her in retaliation. Cedric and I were close but out of reach to save her in time. He stayed with her body while I hunted Elizabeth through the woods. I ripped her throat out.”

He looks my way, his eyes tinged red in anger, or the memory of the kill. A feeling that isn’t fear courses through me, and it’s one I could never have guessed I’d have towards this man—this vampire.

Sympathy.

“I’m sorry.”

He huffs. “It’s not your apology to give, now is it? No, Elizabeth stole my sister from me. That was twice your family condemned mine…so I condemned yours. From then on, I vowed to end every generation of Sinclair witches, leaving only one female alive to carry on the line. Of course, they then invented the cure to vampirism and made it a part of you, a twist that sometimes got themselves killed before I had the chance.”

I stare at him, my body stiffening with every passing second I forget to breathe. But it’s in those passing seconds that the small sliver of sympathy I felt only a moment ago disappears. Fades with the resurgence of hatred for this creature . With the end of his story, he’s reminded me of every reason why I can’t let my guard down. Why I hate Alec Dormer, no matter what’s happened today.

“That’s why you came for me?” My question is a whisper, quieted by dread and understanding. “You’re going to kill me.”

It makes sense. Mom told me Gram’s sister died in her early twenties, but not how. Mom was an only child. I’m an only child. Our family stopped producing more than one child every generation because of him .

This is…this is so messed up.

He shakes his head, not paying attention to my near-breakdown. “Your family has tried to best me, but I’ll always win. Your death would end the game, and I’m not ready for it to be, so I’ve changed the rules. For the rest of your life, the very thing that was designed to protect the world from my kind will be the very thing that’ll condemn you. As I mentioned the other night, immortality is ongoing, and you’re my newest entertainment. For now, at least.”

What?

No.

He’s saying ? —

What?

I’m up and out of the chair before my next breath, pacing as far back as the room physically allows me. And even so, when my back hits the wall, I keep pushing, willing myself to go through it while determining the likelihood of making it over the bed.

“You know, for a moment, I actually felt bad for you. For your sister. You really are an asshole.”

Alec watches me with a slight tip to his head that makes his hair shield his face. “You’re not in danger, Sinclair, sit down.”

“For now.” But how long until he tires of selling my blood, of seeing the reminder of his sister’s murderer before he decides to wipe me out?

“Maybe forever. You’re the most entertainment I’ve had in a long while.”

Forever? Forever can burn in fucking Hell before I even consider letting him stick his fangs in me.

“You’re unbelievable. Sorry for what my ancestor did to your sister, but that was long before I was born. You’ve killed dozens of my family for what…one death?”

“My sister’s death.”

“Again, I’m sorry , but my life—I’m not at fault. And neither are you! Let it go—Cedric obviously did.” I think about the vampire who approached me on the dais, and how there was no hatred in his expression. “This revenge plot of yours is pointless because I did nothing to you or Cora. You’ve decided to punish me for a crime I didn’t commit.”

Every ounce of self-preservation is gone, and words fly without considering consequences. At this point, I don’t even know what’d be better: to stay alive and hope to escape or to piss him off enough he ends my life and saves me both from this future and my misery.

Alec is a blur streaking across the small space. His shadow encompasses mine as he bends down, strands of hair brushing my cheek. “Say it,” he growls, pulling back enough I can see his face. When I’m forced to watch his lips part and his fangs slide farther from his gums—and ignore the way heat flashes between my legs. “Say it,” he commands again, his tone low and velvety, like satin gliding over my skin. “Say what’s on your mind, Hellion. Say how much you hate me.”

“I hate you.” It’s a weak whisper, driven by apprehension and none of the intended malice. “You’re cruel.”

He reaches for a clump of my hair, twirling the strip around his finger as he muses, “I’m a vampire, and it’s best you remember that. Cruelty is my very nature. I fear you may have forgotten that today.”

I did, but won’t ever again. “So be crueller. Or show me mercy, depending how you look at it.” I turn my head until the hair slides from his finger. His hand doesn’t move, though, and my cheek brushes against the same finger. “End my life. I’d rather meet death now than be dragged into your torture for some unknown length of time.”

“So you’ve said before, which is a mistake. Hint for if you ever invent a time-travelling curse and return to the past to change this present: Never tell the kidnapping asshole what you desire. Because now, I’m able to use it against you.”

Damn, he’s right. I’m an idiot.

“You see death as a freedom, and we can’t have that,” he continues, his words so low, I’m practically reading them from his mouth. His finger brushes my cheek, creating a path of heat as he reaches for the same clump of hair and pinches the ends. “It’s interesting how easily you greet the concept of death. How when you learned what I intended for you, you feared it, and yet you begged for it too. Very confusing.”

“There’s a difference between choosing my fate and having it chosen for me.”

He chuckles darkly, his breath cool against my nape and icing my veins. “Yes, that there is. Or is this your horrendous way of surviving me ?”

“We all do things we have to, to survive. Even you.”

“That wasn’t a yes.” He smiles, his teeth a threat on their own.

“Fuck off.”

He loops my hair around his hand, the slight tug on my scalp a taunt. “Are you sure you wouldn’t enjoy immortality? You’ll die, as you’re so eager to do, and get to continue living all at the same time. You’ll be stronger than ever. Human emotions will no longer faze you. That grief you cling to? Gone.”

“Like yours?” I counter with a raise of a brow. “Because you’re the fucking poster child for managing grief.”

With a growl, he wrenches my head back until I’m staring at the ceiling. Pain flitters over my scalp, my hand going to where he has me, but he’s unyielding even when I claw at him. “Your attitude is something else, Hellion. Be careful how you speak to me.”

“Go. Die.”

“I’m already dead,” he replies before jerking away. My head thumps against the wall, and I rub the small ache as he stalks away, pausing by the fireplace. “When I return tomorrow night, these logs better be on fire.” His eyes rake over me, not shielding his disgust. “And you’ll be changed into something more respectable.”

“When I get my powers back, I’m burning you alive.”

“There she is. Keep it up, Sinclair. Anger looks good on you.”

He’s gone from the room, door locked and shut, before my next blink.