Page 29 of The Vampire Court

The feeling squeezes my heart in a way I don’t understand. Swallowing thickly, I brace against a wall for support. I can’t name what it is I do feel. Part of me is afraid to, but what I felt for Xander for years pales in comparison.

I press a clammy hand to my forehead to slow my racing thoughts. The urge to find Alaric is overwhelming. I want to look him in the eye so I know if it’s real or a product of loneliness. I want to see if he feels even a fraction of this, and if he doesn’t, then I’ll never have admitted it, not even to myself. I can push whateverthisis down and lock it away for good.

For the first time, I look around. Too lost in my thoughts, I wandered into a part of the castle I’ve never been before. The halls are empty. Paintings and tapestries decorating the walls lend warmth and opulence to the interior that is lacking in most other areas. Tall, decorative stands hold lit beeswax candles in the spaces between sconces, and thick, heavy drapes are pulled to the side of the windows. Iron crisscrosses create small, diamond-shaped panes of frosted glass.

With all of the yards and yards of material, the area feels overly indulgent. Even where Alaric and I are staying isn’t this nice.

He is the crown prince… above all except the queen.

Fuck.

I take a step back as understanding dawns on me. I should head back and wait in the room for Alaric.

My pulse kicks up in warning. I turn to go back and barely avoid crashing into someone. I blink, my vision focusing on a shiny, black button too close to my face. I back up, mumbling an apology, keeping my head down.

“I didn’t see you there,” I say again. “Please excuse me. I must get back.”

I keep my eyes downcast, staring at the ground. I don’t trust him. I move to the wall to skirt around him, watching his feet rotate as I walk past. I bring my hand to my left wrist, wrap my fingers around the hilt, and unsheathe it, pressing the blade flat against my forearm.

“I know you,” he says.

My head jolts up as he’s suddenly before me, red power glinting in his eyes. I recognize him too.Kerin.

“You’re that snack Vivian was protecting.” He hums thoughtfully to himself. He still hasn’t made the connection between Mother and me. “But why would she protect another vampire’s human?”

Pretty sure he’s talking to himself at this point, I retreat a step then another and another.

“Why would anyone protectyou? You’re nothing extraordinary.” Kerin frowns then shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. We are alone, and there is no one around to interrupt us.”

I hold up a hand, using the other to hide the dagger behind my back. “Stay away.”

He doesn’t listen, of course. Kerin grins and advances slowly as I continue to back up.

“I’ve already been claimed by the crowned prince.” My eyes widen. I realize my mistake the second the words are out of my mouth.

Kerin smirks as if I said something funny. “That bastard hasn’t been part of the court in over a hundred years. His title is an empty one to flaunt around. It gives him the delusion that he holds any power at all, but don’t worry,” he says, stalking forward. “I will try not to kill you.”

“Alaric will kill you if you touch me.”

He laughs, a nearly uncontrollable belly laugh. He wraps his arms around his waist, nearly doubling over from his amusement.

I take my chance and bolt down the hallway, but a human outrunning a vampire is near impossible. I don’t make it far before his fingers tangle in my hair and pull me to a stop. I cry out, my scalp burning from the vicious treatment. He spins me, and my back slams hard against the wall, forcing the air painfully out of my lungs from the impact.

“Don’t touch me,” I snarl.

He pulls down on my hair, wrenching my head back. I bite back a whimper of pain as I pry at his fingers with one hand, squeezing the hilt of the dagger with my other. I could cut him right now, but if I did, it would have to be a killing blow. Both options carry undesirable consequences.

He lets go, placing one hand against the wall next to my head. The other snakes up to my neck, splayed fingers curling around my throat. His thumb tilts my chin up and to the side.

He tsks. “Shame, there is already a scar.”

The sharp edge of his nail scratches over the area.

“This is your last chance.” My voice is barely audible. I want him to release me, to stop whatever game he’s playing, though a small part of me knows that this isn’t a game.

He moves too fast for me to see, sinking his fangs into my neck. I can feel each draw of blood he takes—the pressure, the searing heat and freezing cold racing through my veins with it. My fingers grow icy cold, prickling with an onset of numbness. Black spots form before my eyes.

“T-that’s enough,” I manage to say.