Page 60 of The Vampire Debt
There’s another shift, and the warmth returns, this time at my back as a heavy weight settles over my waist. I roll over and curl into the warmth.
Once more I attempt to open my eyes and speak, but the comfort does me in and sleep takes me.
By the time I manage to force my eyes open, the evening sun is setting through the window, and the warmth that had earlier surrounded me is gone.
I roll to my back and blink up at the ceiling.
My hand skims over the cool blankets behind me. Had I imagined Alaric here with me as I slept?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alaric
A dull achetugs on my back. I shift, realizing the skin on my back is tight, still healing, though the worst has passed.
I blink my eyes open. My head rests on something soft—a leg. My gaze travels up the leg, up the feminine torso, to Clara’s face. One hand is tangled in my hair, bringing vague memories of her running her fingers through it. Her other hand rests on my chest, clutching Rosalie’s stolen dagger.
I am a little shocked to discover it’s not pointed at me, but rather toward the door.
She had run to get away, but when she had the chance to draw blood and earn her freedom—she didn’t take it.
She was protecting me.There was nothing in this house that could have harmed me, and I would have healed on my own, a fact she must have been aware of, yet still she tended to me and stayed by my side.
She is fast asleep. I lift a hand and cup her face. The high demon of the Otherworld must have sent this woman to torture and confound me. As hard as I fight it, there is something about her that softens my heart.
Cherno’s had pops up under my arm. “I thought you would never heal.”
“Thank you, my friend, you have helped a great deal by lending me your power.”
“What happened?” Cherno crawls up onto Clara’s lap as I sit up. My powers will need several more hours to heal properly, and I will need blood.
“We shall speak of this shortly,” I say quietly. “Wait for me in the study.”
Cherno flits off without another word. I must have been in poor condition for them to obey without discord.
Clara’s breath comes in soft sighs, though her expression is tight with worry.
I kneel and scoop her up into my arms, then pick up the dagger. She shifts and buries her face in my chest, one hand clinging to front of my ruined shirt.
Otherworld take me. I should leave her on the floor, but I don’t. I can’t after she stayed with me.
I carry her to her room as she holds tight to me.
Setting the dagger on the night table, I lay her down on the bed. As I withdraw, she makes a pitiful whimpering sound and murmurs something that sounds like, “Don’t go.”
Leave, I tell myself.Leave now. But her frown deepens as her fingers reach out toward me. I run a hand down my face, unable to believe I am about to do this.
I sit on the edge of the bed and stretch out against her back. The moment I am settled, she shifts to face me. I will give her this, only for a while. I lay my arm across her while attempting to keep some distance between us, but—demons and saints—the woman curls into me.
Yes, she was definitely sent from the Otherworld to torture me.
Time passes slowly and I am acutely aware of every inch of her pressed against me.
What am I doing holding this woman I should hate? I should want to kill her, not touch her.
Too long have I lived striving to hold on to my humanity, to be the person Rosalie believed I was.
Now hate is too foreign an emotion to hold on to. Boredom, disdain, neutrality—yes but Clara has made it impossible to feel such paltry emotions toward her.