Page 30 of The Vampire Curse

“You caused me a great deal of trouble cleaning up your mess—and not only having to dispose of that poor girl’s body.”

That lie, all those humans compelled… the situation still leaves a bitter taste on my tongue.

Victor huffs but doesn’t move to defy me.

“How are the people out at night for us to feed on? We hunted during the day, the last time we were here,” Della mutters.

I turn on her. My patience grows short, and I know I must feed soon or my inner demon will take over. “In exchange for their willingness to be fed upon, I keep the demons from coming within several miles of town.”

“You work as a slave for these humans,” Cassius snorts under his breath.

I ignore him and run. I stand at the edge of town within a minute. A bustling noise comes from the central square, lit gas lamps line the streets, and the clack of hooves on the cobblestone all mix to create an atmosphere that most humans only hear in the day.

Keeping the demons back and changing so many lives was a point of pride for Rosalie. This is the life she had wanted before I took that possibility from her.

“We leave our demons here,” I say.

“But how—” Victor starts.

“You do not need your demon to feed. They stay, or you will return to the manor.”

Cherno leaps off my shoulder and takes flight. Arinah squeaks and leaps off Lawrence, landing with a soft thump in the half-frozen grass. I don’t hear Asmod slither from Cassius, but I know he wouldn’t dare defy me on this. He might want to be Elizabeth’s first, but he will never be more than her second.

A moment later and Zegan croaks once before leaping from Victor’s outstretched hand. Cherno circles above, chittering as he keeps watch.

“Remember the rules,” I say.

Lawrence and Della run off toward the center square. Victor is only a second behind them. I reach out and grip Cassius’s forearm.

“Watch him,” I order.

His lip curls. He wants to argue, but they are in my territory. After a moment, he averts his gaze, unable to meet my silent challenge.

Swallowing the dread that crawls its way up my spine, I walk into town.

I am barely several blocks in when a loud gasp draws my attention. A woman, perhaps only a year or two older than Clara, has stopped in front of me. Recognition sparks in her eyes, and a broad smile spreads across her mouth. Her hat sits askew atop her head, and her dress tells me she is off to see a play or the local opera.

The woman walks up to me. The boldness of her move reminding me again of Clara. She looks nothing like her, but I see fierce brown eyes in her green ones, messy, dark brown hair worn loose in this one’s tightly pinned flaxen curls. Her corset is tied so tight that her waist seems too narrow for even her delicate build.

“Are you hungry, my Lord?” she asks in a sweet voice. Everything about her says she has been groomed to attract the most desirable match. The woman tilts her head to the side, exposing her neck.

I want to refuse the woman and find another who doesn’t remind me of Clara. But I see her in everyone and everything.

“Are you willing?” I ask.

She straightens and blinks her large eyes. “Well, yes,” she says, humor in her tone. “Of course. I am offering.”

Even before she exposed her neck, I knew. The eagerness with which she approached made her willingness apparent. One of the many reasons I prefer not to feed in town.

“Very well,” I say.

She slips her arm through mine and walks with me down a deserted side street. The glow from the gas lamps shine, gilding the damp cobblestones.

“Will you be late?” I ask.

“Late?” She bats her eyelashes.

“You are going out tonight.”