Page 82 of The Vampire Court

I don’t turn to look behind me at the vampire as scalding tears fall freely.

“Alaric,” Lawrence says, pulling Alaric’s attention from me to him.

Alaric gives a single shake of his head.

I swipe at my face with the back of my hands to hide the evidence of my tears, though I doubt it matters. I can feel how swollen my eyes have already become and the prickle of heat across my cheeks.

Suddenly, I can’t breathe. I don’t want to be here while they have a silent conversation over my head.

I want Alaric to look at me one last time, to tell me this has been some terrible plan he doesn’t want to continue. Even when he claimed me, things between us were never like this.

Spinning on my heel, I push past Lawrence, making him leap out of my way. I run from the room, but the wide, open hall does nothing to alleviate the crushing feeling that presses down on my shoulders.

“What have you done? You fool, go after her,” Lawrence all but shouts at him.

If Alaric replies, I don’t hear.

I push myself as fast as I can until I am down in the servants’ quarters, panting hard, pulse wild. Bursting into my room, I slam the door shut. The small, nearly empty space feels more foreign to me than it ever had before.

Gradually, my breathing slows, returning to normal. A small part of me clung to the hope that Alaric would listen to his friend and come after me, but that part is mistaken, and it hurts more than I want to admit.

I feel lost…

Hopeless.

A fresh wave of tears wells up. Dropping down onto the uneven mattress, I curl into a ball.

I bring my knees to my chest and stop fighting the ache in my cracked heart.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Clara

I understandeverything Alaric said to me that night in his room. I’m willing to accept it, but there’s a voice in the back of my mind screaming that something is wrong.

He set me free, never expecting to see my face again. If he didn’t want me here—if he truly felt this way—then wouldn’t he have refused my company outright? When I told him I would come, I felt his relief.

Every day for the past week, I go out of my way, attempting to cross paths with Alaric… much to Cassius’s annoyance. If this end is real and not some part of a plan, then I want to know what changed, and why.

He marked me. He came to my room and promised to return, so I can’t help but feel that the man I spoke to wasn’t really him.

All the air leaves my lungs in a painful whoosh, and before I can inhale, my legs are kicked out from under me. I land with a brutally hard thud on my back. The practice pole flies out of my hand, clattering on the stone floor and rolling out of reach.

Cassius places a foot on either side of my ribs and squats down, straddling me. He fists the front of my shirt and jerks, pulling me into a half-sitting position as he lowers his face within an inch of my own.

“Focus,” he snarls. “Wherever your head is, you need to come back.”

With some effort, I pry his hand free from the material of my shirt. He releases me, and I flop back on the ground.

“I don’t care,” I say.

Cassius upped our training from once to twice a day—first in the morning for three hours before breakfast and then after lunch for another two.

I’m exhausted… and my heart aches.

Cassius narrows his eyes. “Why do you look like you haven’t slept in a month?”

With the amount of training we’ve been doing, I should sleep like the dead. But each morning, I wake more exhausted than the day before—and those are the mornings when I do manage to sleep.