Page 44 of The Vampire Debt

“Thank you,” I say once I have the letter in my grasp. My hands tremble.

“You weren't at lunch, Miss. Do you wish for me to bring you something to eat?”

I am a little hungry but just offering to bring me something seems to leave a bitter taste in his mouth, so I shake my head. “No, thank you.”

“Very well,” Mr. Steward says, bowing slightly before walking away.

I close the door with my foot and lean back against it. It takes me two tries to open the letter. Eventually I break the seal and open it. It’s a single page with a few short paragraphs.

Dear Clara,

I was relieved to get your letters, having feared you would have been killed by that horrid monster that first night. All of your letters have put me in the best of spirits, and I would like to think that on those days my health has improved even if just a little. I will admit I put off answering your first letters in the hope that you would have returned before a response would have reached you.

I am glad to hear you are alive and well. I miss you more than words can say.

Hurry, sweet sister, and dispose of that monster so that you may return home to me where you are needed.

Your loving sister,

Kathrine

I flip the page over but there is nothing more. I can’t help the ache of disappointment that she didn’t write more, that she didn’t even speak a word of Xander or if he ever received my letters to him or if he hasn’t received them—if he knows why I left. Surely, he knows I have every intention of returning.

I wonder if Mr. Devereaux is sending my letters or having them destroyed… it would explain why Xander hasn’t written back, but then why did Kitty not mention him?

I rub my temples with my fingers. There is no way I am going to know for sure. I must keep trying to win my freedom.

Folding the letter, I shove it into my pocket and sink down to the floor. An awful feeling gnaws at my conscious. For as much as I want to return to my life, to my sister, and to Xander, and even the handful of letters sent, there have been times where I have become consumed with life here. I press my fingers to my mouth, pull in a deep breath, and hold it. My cheeks burn at the thought of every kiss that has happened between the vampire and me.

I have tried over a dozen times now to draw blood, and each one has been a betrayal to Xander. No matter how many times I tell myself it is necessary for me to eventually leave here, I know a part of me wants it. Every kiss is different, some are cold and quick… and with others, I nearly lose my senses. But every single one has erased the memory of Xander’s kisses, bit by bit. I am afraid that one day soon, I will not be able to recall a single kiss or the feel of his embrace any longer.

Alaric might not be compelling me, but I wonder if he is using some demonic power on me whenever he is close. I don’t see how there could be any other explanation for it.

Nothing I have done thus far has worked. I need to change my strategy. While I want nothing more than to rid the world of vampires and avenge everyone who has ever been taken or murdered by one… I do not need to kill Alaric as I have been attempting. I onlyneedto draw a single drop of blood to earn my freedom.

I don’t need the strength or speed to pierce a heart, only a small flick of my wrist. A scratch.

It will be enough to just be free and return home.

Standing, I stretch before reaching behind me to fasten up the back of the dress. I grab the dagger from the night table and head out of my rooms.

I stop first at the library but there is no one there and the fire in the hearth is dying down. I swallow my nerves, squaring my shoulders, and head up the staircase to the third floor. Since that first night we drank on the floor of his study, he has not even tried to enforce the ban he’d set—so I’m not sure why I’m so nervous about going up there now.

I bypass the first two rooms and head straight for the last door.

When I peek in, I see the fire is roaring, Alaric’s jacket is slung over the back of the large wing-backed chair near the fireplace, and an open book sits spine up on the cushion.

He’s been reading, and by the looks of things, he will return shortly. I pick up the book and turn it over, glancing at the title before opening it up to the beginning.

“Will you be joining the master for tea,” the butler asks from the doorway. “Or are you snooping through his things?”

I snap the book shut, having nearly jumped out of my skin at being caught. Mr. Steward holds a tray with a single china cup and a teapot.

“There is a personal matter I wish to discuss with him,” I say with a bite to my words.

He grunts and nods once before setting the tray on the desk and pouring a cup and setting it on the small round table next to the chair. He leaves without another word or glance in my direction.

I breathe out once he’s gone. Looking at the steeping tea, I know Alaric will be back soon enough. I reach inside my pocket and pull out the dagger, positioning it under the book in my hand. it takes a few attempts to find something comfortable and natural enough where I can hold the dagger while I appear to be reading.