Page 21 of The Vampire Curse

The feel of her skin beneath my palms, the taste of her lips. That is a moment I wouldn’t mind revisiting.

She had wanted more that night. We both had. There is an attraction we share for each other. The mark would only heighten whatever she feels toward me—whether it is desire or hate. But if it is desire… I’m not sure I could resist.

“You are doing better,” I say. Though the tilt of her brows says, she doesn’t believe me.

We manage to make it through an entire song, and not once does she turn away or avert her eyes. The moment is more intimate than any kiss we have shared or any touch.

We slow to a stop along with the music, but neither of us pulls away.

Uncertainty fills her features, replacing the determination and focus she had as we moved together.

Can this really be the woman I hunted down? The murderer I claimed, intending to make her pay for taking Rosalie’s life. Because Clara is a killer… the reason my heart has been rent in two.

And here I am, dancing with her, trying to protect her.

I grieve for Rosalie, and yet part of me wants the woman before me. I am doing everything I can to honor the fact that Clara would rather die than bear my mark. And I am risking everything for her.

My heart is a twisted thing. This is a sick joke played on me by the powers of the Otherworld. I should want to kill her. Instead, everything about her calls to me, and I am powerless to fight it.

She killed my only reason for living… but she has also told me why. A vampire had already claimed and murdered her mother. She only wanted to protect her sister from the threat she had been raised to see us as.

I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t have done the same for Rosalie.

Clara’s mouth opens then closes. Her tongue darts out between her lips, then she swallows. The movement of her delicate throat catches my eye.

“I…,” she starts.

As if choreographed, I cup her face with both hands, sliding my fingers into her hair as she pushes up onto her toes. I lean down, guiding her closer. We have kissed countless times before, but this is something different.

Clara’s eyes slide shut, and she sighs, her warm breath brushes my lips.

“Pardon me, Master, but a letter has just arrived for the Miss,” Mrs. Westfield says.

Clara pulls back as if she were caught doing something she ought not to do and expects to be punished.

I release her and retrieve the letter from the head housekeeper. She bows her head then takes her leave. I return to Clara and hand her the envelope.

She stares at it for a long moment, then her eyes brighten. Clara sits on the nearest sofa and crosses her legs then rips open the letter. Her eyes scan the words on the pages, then again, a second time, slower.

Clara places the letter in her lap and looks up, eyes glazed.

“What is it?” I ask. Tendrils of dread work their way through my bones.

“Kitty… she,” Clara pauses, looking at her letter again. “She’s getting married in a month.”

“There you are,” Lawrence says, striding into the room.

If only I could send the lot of them away. They offer nothing but inconvenience and bad timing.

“Clara,” I say, keeping my eyes locked on Lawrence. “Why don’t you finish reading your letter in your rooms? I will come to see you later.”

She uncurls from the couch and stands, too wrapped up in the news she received to pay any attention to how the mood has shifted.

Clara trails a hand down my arm as she passes but doesn’t look up. To my amusement, she doesn’t even acknowledge Lawrence’s presence.

He watches Clara until she is gone. Then he is at my side, his expression of intrigue and humor replaced with stony seriousness.

“What are you doing with her?” he hisses.