Page 43 of The Vampire Debt

Now, she drags her gaze to my face. I watch her throat bob as she swallows nervously. Pink stains her cheeks. There’s heat in her eyes, fury. “I want to renegotiate the deal.”

“A deal is a deal,” I say, setting my glass next to hers. I lean forward and turn my face slightly, pointing to my cheek.

Clara lets out a slow breath then leans forward, her eyes close as her mouth nears my jaw, then I turn and her lips are on mine and I’m pulling her close with one arm and tangling the fingers of my other hand into her hair.

Her lips are softer than I imagined, and for a second her mouth is hard and unyielding, but then she becomes pliant against me, responding to every movement and demand I make. The brandy is sweeter on her lips.

I could get lost in her.

Clara’s teeth graze the bottom of my lip, then clamp down.

She lets out a soft gasp of surprise as I pull away. The slightest taste of copper is on the tip of my tongue. She bit me and broke the skin. It is a curious thing for a human to bite a vampire. Heat builds in my core, along with amusement.

I throw my head back and laugh. I think I will enjoy this one.

Clara presses her palms to my chest and pushes herself from my arms.

“You cheated,” she accuses.

I shake my head, not regretting anything. “No, my dear Clara, you were the one who tried to cheat your way out of our bargain. I told you that when you try to cut me, I want you to mean it. If you didn’t want the kiss, then you shouldn’t have made such a poor attempt.”

Anger colors her face now as she glares. Her fists clench at her sides.

“The attempt was sloppy. You rushed it,” I say.

I wonder if she will insist that the no touching rule will remain in effect when she isn’t trying to stab me. But she doesn’t, and that pleases me more than it should.

She sputters but in the end, says nothing.

“If you want to have any chance at drawing blood from a vampire, you need to work on your tells—” I say, bending down to pick up the fallen dagger. I hand it to her by taking her hand and pressing the hilt into her palm, emphasizing the point that she initiated the touching. “Not to mention, your timing and speed could not be worse. You will need to do far more than expertly hide this on your person—which I will assume is always on you.”

Clara is shaking with her indignation, and without another word she spins on her heel and storms out of the room.

I can practically taste her anger on the air.

She can detest me all she likes, but she will thank me someday.

Chapter Nineteen

Clara

His kiss is searedon my lips and upon my very soul. It lingers long after I fall asleep. It’s the latter ones that stay with me. I press my fingers to my lips and my eyes slide shut as a shiver runs over my body.

Rolling to my side, I stare unseeing at my surroundings as the watery light of the day washes over everything. I came to my room to nap after breakfast and have been here ever since. But just like most nights lately, I haven’t been able to fall asleep for all the noise of my unending thoughts swirling through my head.

My attempts to draw even the smallest drop of blood from him inevitably end in failure and a kiss. It feels as though it has become a sick game between us—one where I seek him out for these moments.

“Miss Valmont,” Mr. Steward’s voice drifts through the door as he knocks twice. For a second I lay still, thinking about pretending to be asleep. Then he speaks again. “A letter has come for you in the post this afternoon.”

My heart is in my throat in an instant. I fling off the blankets and leap off the bed. Throwing open the armoire, I grab the first dress I can and pull it on, not bothering to attempt to button the back. I hurry to the door and fling it open, coming face to face with the butler, who stares at me with wide eyes.

“A letter?” I ask breathless.

The butler lifts his eyebrows at my excitement, then, entirely too calm, he says, “Yes, Miss.”

I have been waiting for a response since the day I wrote my first letter to Kitty. It’s all I can do to stop myself from reaching out and snatching the letter out of his grasp. He seems to be moving in slow motion.

The man has never shown an ounce of emotion one way or the other. I wonder if he is even capable of them.