Page 92 of The Vampire Curse

This transition from who I was to who I will be, feels like walking on a layer of thin ice. Underneath is a rapidly flowing river that will pull me under and sweep me away if I am not careful.

It’s why this mark that ties me to Alaric scares me so much. It is taking a long time to get used to it. If I’m not careful, I find myself wandering toward him. I fear it will steal away the last of who I am. I have lost so much that I don’t want to risk losing whatever might be left to the mark's effects. I don’t want things between us to be forced or created by some outside influence. I couldn’t stand to lose my friend like that.

A pebble skips across the stone walkway behind me, drawing me out of my reverie. I pull my dagger in a fluid motion as I turn.

“Stay back. I will kill you if you try anything,” I say, surprised my voice is calm and steady. Not long ago, the words would have been an empty threat, now I mean them.

I am no longer afraid to do what I must to stay alive.

Lawrence lifts his hands, showing me his palms, and stops several yards away. “I am not here to harm you. I only wish to talk.” He gestures toward a bench half-hidden by perfectly manicured shrubbery. “We can stand here if you like, or… sit?”

I study him—his posture, his expression, and even the way he looks at me. When I find no deception or hint of malice, I nod but keep the dagger in hand.

“Standing will do,” I say.

“He should have killed you,” Lawrence says. I’m not sure if he means Alaric when he claimed me or…

“Are you threatening me?”

“No. But it is the truth.” He shakes his head. “Victor should have killed you—he was demon cursed.”

“What is your point, Mr. Harkstead? I assume you have one?”

He takes one step forward, testing me. Then another. I refuse to retreat. “My point is that he was not the first vampire you’ve killed.”

I blink several times. “Just how in the Otherworld did you come to that conclusion?” I ask. “I was in shock.”

He is standing right in front of me now, his hand on my wrist with the dagger. He doesn’t squeeze or try to take it from me, but rather keeps the weapon aimed away from him.

“You were in shock over the blood loss. But your expression was not one of someone who’d seen their first kill.”

I laugh, it’s a harsh sound. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

“It does,” he says in a low voice that cuts me off. “There is no human alive who doesn’t fear the repercussions of killing a vampire. It is only with their second that they have come to terms with the pain they will have to endure if caught. You were injured, not afraid.”

I say nothing. His hazel eyes search mine, then, after a moment, Lawrence releases my hand but doesn’t move away.

“I loved her,” he says.

My breath leaves me as though I were dealt a physical blow. His suspicion, the hostility… it makes sense now.Why is he telling me this?To extract a confession from me, or to confront Rosalie’s killer, or just to express the heartbreak he feels.

He turns away and I sheath the dagger, reaching for his hand.

“Lawrence…” I start, but I can’t find the words to comfort him without admitting that he is right about me.

“A third kill will make you a slayer. There has not been one in over a hundred and twenty-five years.” Lawrence removes his hand from my grip and walks back toward the manor.

I stare dumbly after him long after he enters the house. He loved her.He loved Rosalie.

One day I will admit the truth, and I will ask for his forgiveness. I shake my head. There is nothing in this world that could make up for what I did. I would still kill the bastard that claimed my mother and killed her because I would never forgive them.

The morning chill settles into my bones. I don’t entertain the idea that it could be my conversation with Lawrence that has caused it.

I sit down on the metal bench and look out across the lake to the forest that lies outside the property.

The lake should scare me after nearly drowning in it. I keep waiting for fear to strangle me in the dark hours of the night, to jump at every sound, to cower at every shadow—but I don’t. The gentle lap of waves is soothing.

“There you are,” Alaric says from behind. His hands come down to rest on my shoulders.