Page 48 of The Vampire Court

The anger melts from his face, replacing it with a sorrow that takes my breath away. His eyes are glassy for a brief moment. Then, he blinks it away.

“I’m talking about Rosalie. You lied. Youdidkill her, and then, you denied it.”

I take in a slow, deep breath through my nose then exhale. Scooting forward, I drop my feet off the bed and fold my hands in my lap.

“I didn’t lie,” I say quietly. “I never admitted or denied anything.”

Eyes widening a fraction, Lawrence snarls. Arinah’s power surges, making his eye glow red.

“My loyalty isn’t to you,” I snap.

His anger is palpable, but underneath it all is a broken heart. He’s also Alaric’s friend.

I push off the bed and cross the room to when he stands. He’s as still as a statue. I clasp his hand in both of mine. He stiffens at the touch but doesn’t pull away.

Taking another deep breath, I say, “I am sorry. I know it doesn’t excuse what I did, but please understand. I was raised to believe all vampires were vile monsters. It never occurred to me that we are not so different.” I shake my head. “I regret hurting Alaric, and you, with my actions.”

“I should kill you for it.” His threat is hollow and filled with pain with no force behind it. “The only reason I don’t is for Alaric’s sake.”

I step into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my cheek against his chest. It’s awkward to initiate a hug with a man I barely know, made even more uncomfortable because he’s just standing with his arms limp at his sides.

I have been hugged more by Alaric than anyone else in my life. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from him, it’s that vampires seem to communicate more with physical touch than humans do.

After a long moment, Lawrence lifts his arms and returns the embrace. He relaxes into me, and we stand like this for a long time.

“I loved her…” he whispers into my hair.

“I know.”

Chapter Eighteen

Clara

I situp and stare into the dark void surrounding me. My breath forms white plumes of air. Cold seeps into my muscles, making them stiff and clumsy when I push my blanket away. Squinting into the shadows, I will my vision to focus.

Distant whispers come from all directions in a language I don’t know. Finally, a thin sliver of light shines through the slit of a window, allowing me to see.

I don’t recognize this place, the small room or the broken down dresser. At first, I think I’m back in Littlemire, but the bed is too small, the window is wrong, and Kitty is not snoring softly at my side.

It takes me several seconds to shake off the cobwebs from my sleep-addled mind. Disappointment and a prickle of fear accompany the truth as everything comes flooding back.

The corner nearest the window remains shrouded in the pitch dark. I know that there is nothing there but shadows. Still, I can’t tear my gaze away as the unsettling feeling of being watched presses down on me. My blood runs cold.

I stare into the impenetrable darkness, unblinking. Shapes seem to sway and move. I can’t tell if it’s my imagination or if someone or something is there.

The whispers gradually become louder. Then, from the soft melee, three clear words breakthrough. “Come to me.”

There’s a demon in my room. They come to me at night when I am alone and asleep, and my mind is vulnerable. They dig their claws into my unconsciousness and grab hold before I wake.

“Why?” The question comes out more of a breath than a fully formed word—a single word to ask a multitude of questions. Why would a demon summon me? Why should I go to them? Why am I haunted by demons?

They nod. Moving from the shadows, they float across the room, passing effortlessly through the door.

“I can give you the answers you seek,” the demon says before disappearing completely.

Their hold releases. I slump forward, gasping for air. Tears of frustration well up, blurring out the world.

Stumbling to my feet, I run out the door and away from the demon. I want to find Alaric, to—