Page 40 of The Vampire Debt

It’s good. Better that he doesn’t. When he’s near, I forget Xander… his power is too consuming.

I can’t be sure he won’t try something to get me to unwittingly make contact with him. I swallow down the feeling that is too close to disappointment for my taste.

Gripping the hilt, I brace my other hand against the tree and pull. It doesn’t give at first, then like a hot knife through butter, it gives way and I stumble back several steps. The strike was good, but off target.

I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand then rest my back against the tree. I’m more comfortable with the blade in my hand, it feels more like an extension of me.

I turn my head to look up at the window on the third floor of the manor. I see the faint light of a fire roaring in Alaric’s study. I can’t tell if he’s in there or not.

With every passing day I grow more and more restless, anxious to get home to my sister. I hope she is doing well. I have sent two letters but have yet to hear back, which makes me worry all the more.

I have asked her about Xander as my letters to him have also gone unanswered. It makes me wonder if they are getting to him at all. He would have been worried when I never showed up that night as we had planned.

It is only the prospect of me attempting to cut Alaric and failing… the thought of his mouth on mine that I cannot risk. It seems a simple enough request, but I can’t help but feel as though it will lead to something far more dangerous than a simple kiss would imply.

I need to draw blood from him soon… but worry is making me hesitate.

I move around the tree, using it to hide my body as I slip the swathed dagger into my pocket and practice ways of reaching for it that seem natural. I do everything I can think of with the dagger, wanting every movement with it to feel as natural as everything else so when I go to strike, Alaric will not see it coming.

One glance at the sky is enough to tell me that it is nearly time for dinner. I will go to my room and change, then the two of us will dine with soft music playing on the phonograph in the background, and then he will ask me the same question he does every night.

* * *

I arrive before him. It has become more and more common. Every night thus far I have come to dinner telling myself that tonight will be the night I will draw blood… but every night, the thought of his kiss has me halting my plans.

I take my seat and wait. A warm fire blazes in the hearth, snapping and crackling. I take a sip of wine to temper my nerves. As I set the crystal glass down, music drifts into the room.

Then he appears in the doorway. Immediately my stomach clenches. And it is because of that reaction to seeing him walk into the same room that I have stayed my hand.

As of late, he has shown me less and less of the telltale signs of vampirism. I think he does it to play with my mind, to lull me into feeling safe around him. But I cannot let my guard down, no matter how human he might appear.

“Good evening, Clara,” he says, taking his seat. “Have you been waiting long?”

He looks tired tonight.

“I’ve only just sat down myself.”

Our conversation is stiff and scripted. But every night we continue this charade it grows harder and harder to remember that this man is not my friend. We would both like to see the other dead.

We eat in silence. I notice he barely touches his food. Eventually he sets his fork and knife down and looks to me for the first time since entering.

“I will retire to my study now, if you do not mind.”

“I do not mind.”

He seems paler than usual, dark shadows have formed under his eyes. Alaric stands then asks the same question he does before we part ways. “Will you be attempting to draw blood tonight?”

“No,” I say automatically.

I’m unsure if he expects me to ever answer yes, or if he expects a no and an attempt.

He nods once, and then he walks from the room.

I look down at my plate of food, not even half eaten. It is as delicious as everything else I’ve eaten since being here, but something about tonight’s dinner has left me unsettled and I have lost my appetite.

I am not worried about him. I’m not. I can’t be.

Pushing away from the table, I stand and walk out. I make my way down the hall faster than normal. I am almost running by the time I stop at the landing that leads to the third floor. I grip the banister tightly.