Page 24 of The Vampire Curse
Alaric stills. I am afraid he might still mark me… but mostly, it scares me that I’m not repulsed by the idea.
He pulls away, his face an emotionless mask. His eyes darken with what looks like hurt.
“Alaric…” I say.
“Let me look at your arms,” he says, stopping me from saying whatever excuse I would offer.
If he wanted to mark me without my permission, he would have done so already. There was no reason to mistrust him… in truth, I think I did not trust myself.
Alaric takes one of my arms and pulls up my sleeve, then the other. The marks on my skin are still bright pink and tender. The skin puckers where it has knit together. They will scar. But I am alive, so I will take it.
“They are healing nicely, but you should keep them wrapped for the next week.”
With how deep the cuts had felt and how much blood I had lost, I thought for sure it would take weeks to heal. Alaric had used all the power he could, but the magic of the night-forged silver dagger fought against his. The opposing magics made it impossible for him to heal the cuts completely.
He rebandages my arms, doing a better job than I had.
“Don’t worry,” I say, pulling my sleeves back down. “I will keep them wrapped.”
He nods once, still closed off to me. I hate it. I don’t want to leave things like this between us.
I made him feel untrusted…Demon shit. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does.
“I will have Mr. Steward include bandages and an ointment to aid healing.” Then he strides across the room and leaves without looking back.
* * *
A gentle hand rests on my shoulder, shaking me awake. I force my eyes open and blink away the blur of sleep to see Mrs. Westfield standing over me, a tallow candle set in a wrought iron holder.
“Wake up, Miss, it is almost time for you to leave.”
My eyes fly open, adjusting to the watery gray light of morning. It’s not yet dawn, but blood reds and bruising purples are smeared across the sky. Soon the sun will gild the edges of the clouds and burn away the lingering mist.
I dress quickly with Mrs. Westfield’s assistance. A simple, dark green dress with long sleeves and a modest collar, unlike the majority of the clothes I have here, designed to keep my neck exposed.
We walk down the halls of the manor. An eerie silence fills the house. It seems unusual when there is a house full of vampires and at least two demons.
The carriage waits directly in front of the steps of the manor. The driver sits on his perch, keeping his gaze straight ahead. He's unmoving as if he were carved from stone. My trunk is already tied to the back.
While I’m glad I haven’t crossed paths with the visiting vampires, I had expected Alaric to see me off. My gut clenches in disappointment.
“I have prepared a basket for you with individually wrapped meals and a few bottles of cider and water. It will be enough to get you to your destination,” Mrs. Westfield says. “Happy travels.”
Then she turns and walks away.
Alaric gave me permission to go, so why do I feel like I’m sneaking away during the middle of the night?
Pulling in a deep breath of crisp morning air, I walk down the steps toward the carriage. I don’t even know how long I have before I must return, though I assume at least a month.
My nerves hum as I lift a foot, preparing to haul myself inside. I look over my shoulder, expecting Alaric to show up any second now… but there is only the footman and myself outside at this early hour.
I don’t want to leave like this. I don’t want to leave things strained between the two of us. Guilt clings like the stench of stagnant water over what I implied last night.
I finish climbing in, resigned to waiting until after I return before setting things right.
As soon as I sit down on the cushioned bench, and look up. Alaric is standing with one hand on the open door, the other resting on the frame.
“I didn’t think you would come to see me off,” I say—my shoulders slump in relief.