Page 76 of The Vampire Curse

Clara

Keepingmy hand poised and ready to grab the dagger, I make my way back through the halls and into the front of the manor. It’s quiet. Empty.

I don’t relax until I’m standing in the hall between the drawing and dining rooms.

I strain my ears to listen. Sounds of dishes on trays coming from the kitchen, while not loud, make it impossible for me to understand anything being said inside. A man laughs. I inch closer, wondering if it’s Alaric’s or Oliver’s.

“Miss Valmont?”

I jump at Mr. Steward’s voice and turn to face him.

“You can drop the contrite look,” he mutters, closing the last few steps that separate us. The teacups chime softly against their saucers on the silver serving tray. “Here,” Mr. Steward says, pushing the tray into my hands. “You should take this in.”

“But…”

“I have other duties to attend to. Perhaps once you’re in, they will invite you for a cup of tea,” he says as he walks back toward the kitchen.

Well, I suppose this is one way to find out what's going on. I stand before the door, one hand poised to knock. If Alaric is put out by my intrusion, then he can send me away.Again. The thought of him continuing to do so sets my teeth on edge.

Before my knuckles can make contact with the wood more than once, Alaric pulls open the door. He sucks in a breath as his eyes fall on my face. He looks around the hall as if expecting the butler to be standing nearby.

For a moment, I think he might just take the tray and dismiss me. My pulse races and I wait for his anger, or at the very least, his clear displeasure at my forced intrusion. Then, to my surprise, he steps back and motions for me to come inside.

Oliver stands up, a wolfish grin plastered on his face. All those sharp teeth should be terrifying, but somehow, the expression is sweet and harmless.

“Finally,” the male shifter says under his breath to the woman at his side. I set the tray down on the small table in the center of the room—the chaise lounge on one side, and the leather wingback chair on the other.

I pour a cup for each of them. Cream for Oliver, cream and sugar for the woman, and nothing added for the man. The two shifters take their drinks and stand back along the wall.

Finally, I make a cup for Alaric. My hand trembles slightly as I hand it to him, and it nearly sloshes over.

What is wrong with me?

His hand steadies mine as he takes it with his other. His fingers linger on my skin before releasing me. I make myself a cup before I can dwell too long on what any of that meant… if anything.

“Not even sugar?” Oliver asks me, both brows raised.

“No, we didn’t have milk or sugar when I was growing up,” I say, sharing more than necessary. Before he can continue, I hurry to stand against the wall near the fireplace.

Oliver and Alaric take their seats. Tension fills the space between them.

Alaric takes a sip of his tea then sets the cup down. “Why are you here, Oliver?”

“Demons,” he says.

“Yes. You’ve said as much, but I don’t think that requires a formal visit.” He motions to the other two shifters. “I have been hunting them and doing what I can to quell the issue. As I have told you in the past, I won’t go back on my end of the agreement.”

He moves to stand. Oliver sets his cup down and leans forward. Something about his expression, his posture, make him appear more wolf than human.

“Then you are aware the lesser and greater demons are not the only issue. There is a higher demon, ruining the vegetation, leaving the animal populations decimated. Their corpses litter the forest—none of them have been fed on, only shredded and poisoned. My pack has had to go well out of our territory to hunt just to feed our children. Many have not returned because the humans hunt us.”

With his flirtatious nature, I had missed it before now. He is not just any wolf… he is the alpha of his pack, and the two with him are not just pack mates, but his betas.

Alaric’s gaze flicks to me, then back to Oliver before he sits back down, expression darkening. “I am. But there is only so much I can do. It is not my demon, and there is no way to determine who their master is. They refuse to take shape, intentionally making it impossible.”

Oliver scoffs. “There are only so many vampires of your stature, and you are currently housing two… or is it three?”

“I am but one man,” Alaric says, spreading his arms. “The bargain is with me and no other. If I had assistance, perhaps I could do more. But you will find a lack of willingness to get involved with what is seen among vampires as ashifterpriority. They are your lands.”