Page 63 of The Vampire Court

Alaric gathers me in his arms, holding me tight, his warm breath brushing over my cheek. I’m suddenly overcome with exhaustion, but I feel the need to share a truth with him I hadn’t dared think before now.

“I thought I was going to die in there,” I say against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart beating.

He chuckles.

That is not the response I expected. I bend my neck back to look at Alaric because there’s nothing funny about that.

“That’s impossible,” he says. The sexy grin playing on his lips is almost enough to make me forget what we’re talking about. “Remember, I told you?”

I scrunch my brow.

“If you are to die, then it will be by my hand and my hand alone.” He places a kiss on my mouth. “I meant it, and I would sooner cut my own heart out than harm you.”

My pulse jumps as I lay my head back down in the space between his arm and shoulder.

His words echo the look in his eyes from moments ago. It feels less and less like a silly promise between two almost-friends and more like a vow of something that could irrevocably break me if I dared to give into it.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Alaric

Clara sighs contentedlyin her sleep, scooting closer when I shift. Since the day Elizabeth turned me, I never had any desire to claim a human, let alone to mark one, yet, somehow, Clara has managed to change that.

I glide my hand over the smooth skin of her back and close my eyes.

A knock on the door is irritatingly loud. I debate ignoring it altogether when whoever it is knocks again.

I disentangle myself from Clara’s limbs, get up, and quickly dress. Sliding open the drawer of the night table, I pull out the returned dagger.

Elizabeth might have “given me permission” to attend the reclaiming, but I’d had no plans to until I felt the weight of it in my hand. Clara’s message had been clear. She’d given up and had no plans to defend herself against a potential new master.

Carefully, I place the dagger atop the pillow next to her.

Another knock sounds, louder this time. Clara wakes with a scowl on her face. She tilts her head as she takes me in, frowning when she spots the weapon next to her. She props herself up on her elbows and looks from me to the dagger and back.

On impulse, I lean forward and place a kiss to the top of her head. “This belongs to you.”

She smiles, sleep tugging on the expression.

Another knock on the door breaks the moment. I turn away, hurry toward the door. Jerking it open, I’m ready to scold the servant on the other side but by words catch on my tongue. A vampire stands, chin held high and a single delicate brow arched. Her lips press into a tight line as her rich brown eyes scan me from head to toe. She’s a few years older than Clara, though not by much. The power radiating off her is weak.

“Our queen has requested your presence. She would not like to be kept waiting.”

Elizabeth. I clench my jaw so hard I’m lucky my teeth don’t crack under the force. I push down my anger. Instead of a reply, I offer a nod of acknowledgment. This is a simple message. I can’t fathom why a lesser vampire would be the one to deliver it instead of one of the many human servants.

“May I come in?” Her question catches me off guard, but before I can refuse, she glides past me, stopping in the center of the antechamber. She stares at the closed doors to the bedroom and says, “I’m here to see Clara.”

There’s no reason I can see for an unknown vampire to see Clara, especially not without my presence.

She lifts her chin and scents the air. Her eyes narrow, and if I didn’t know better, the look on her face is disapproving.Who is this lesser vampire who thinks she has the right to judge me?

Possibilities why this vampire is here, boldly entering my rooms, rush through my mind. One possible reason stands out—Elizabeth sent her to kill Clara as my punishment for defying her in front of the court, not caring that I would kill her.

If this woman so much as touches a hair on Clara’s head, I will end her life.

Before either of us can say another word, the bedroom doors open, and Clara steps out. She’s dressed in her usual attire: suede leggings and a fitted shirt, though she remains barefoot.

In a blink, I stand before her. Gripping her shoulders with both hands, I say, “I must leave you now. I’ve been summoned.”