Page 80 of The Vampire Curse

I will never forget Rosalie, but I can choose to forgive Clara. She has pushed her way into my soul regardless… and perhaps I’ve already forgiven her but have been too blinded by guilt to notice.

Chapter Thirty

Clara

Cool air slidesacross my face from the open window. It holds the unmistakable chill that brings the promise of the first snow in the coming days. Hours have passed since Oliver and his two betas left, and I still haven’t spoken to Alaric. When I returned to the dining room with the tray to serve the wolves, Alaric had already left.

I cross my arms and let my forehead thud softly against the windowpane as I glare at the spot where the shifters had vanished into the woods. I have half a mind to march out there, even as the horizon swallows up the sun, and give that demons’ damned wolf a piece of my mind for pulling that stunt. Whatever the tensions between Alaric and me, Oliver’s flirting didn’t help the situation.

Pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead, I push away those petty thoughts. They are a distraction to the real issue. I can’t believe nearly three months have already passed since the claiming. It feels like it has been both a few days and several lifetimes.

I am not the same person I was. I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m a boat set adrift in the ocean without a sail—aimless and at the mercy of the waves. But even that doesn’t matter right now.

In two weeks, I will be on my way to Nightwich with Alaric. I only have one mark and I will do what I must to survive.

The final ray of light disappears below the horizon. A woman and three men emerge from the manor and converge in the yard. They talk for a moment, then take off running at their impossibly fast speed, heading toward Windbury. Alaric is not with them.

Minutes later, he emerges from the manor and takes off into the woods at a blinding speed. I stare after him.

I’ve waited too long, and now I’ve lost my chance. I stand by the window for what feels like hours, eventually giving up and going to the library to wait for him to return.

The window seat has the perfect view of the woods, and I will be able to pass the time reading.

Cherno’s steady wings follow at a distance.

I quickly settle into my usual spot and open a book, focusing on the words.

* * *

Somewhere in the manor, a door slams, jolting me awake. I rub my head, trying to clear the fog of sleep from my mind. I must have fallen asleep waiting for Alaric. The moon is still high, so not much time has passed.

I get to my feet and walk to the door, hovering at the threshold, straining to listen. No voices float through the halls, so it must not be the other vampires.

My pulse picks up. This is my chance to talk to Alaric.

I lift my chin and make my way to the third floor heading for his office. Empty. Leaning against the door frame, I press my lips into a tight line and wrap my arms around myself. He’s avoiding me and I can't say that it doesn't hurt.

Walking back down the hall, I’m content with just going to bed, and finding him in the morning. But as I pass his bedroom door, I contemplate waiting here for him to return. I lift my hand and knock, expecting nothing.

“No tea tonight, Mrs. Westfield.” Alaric’s voice comes through the door, soft and weary.

My heart thuds against my chest. I turn the doorknob and push it open, slipping into the room. A fire burns in the hearth, but the air is still cold.

Alaric is on the couch at the far end of his room, an arm draped over his eyes.

“I said…” he trails off as he peeks out from under his arm and sees me. I half expect him to tell me to leave, instead, he reaches out a hand.

I go to him without hesitation. As soon as I’m within reach, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me down on top of him. My head rests on his chest, and for a long moment, I’m content to just be in his presence, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heart.

His arms tighten around me as he hugs me. All thoughts of confronting him evaporate. Alaric buries his face in my neck and inhales. It’s a move that once sent my pulse racing in fear, but now it jumps from something not entirely unpleasant.

“Why did you send me away last night?” I whisper. I try to keep the hurt from my voice, but I’m unsuccessful. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

His fingers tighten against me before relaxing. “I’m sorry, my dear Clara.” Alaric presses his cheek against the top of my head. “I wanted you to understand without regret what could have happened between us. If I hadn’t sent you away, I would have given in to the mark.”

He whispers the last part. The implication that he wouldn’t want to take advantage of me hangs between us. He’d wanted to give in, and that fact sends my heart racing.

Alaric’s fingers trail up and down my spine. I can almost imagine the feel of his hands running over my bare skin.