Page 59 of The Vampire Court

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 breath 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.