Page 72 of The Vampire Debt

He marches me up to my room and only then, when the door is closed, does he finally release me. Something dark shadows his features even as the tension melts visibly from his shoulders. His gaze drops to the floor.

“Clara,” he whispers my name with such desperation that I cease breathing as I wait for the next words to fall from his lips. “You will not be safe outside this door. Without my mark, there is nothing stopping any other vampire from taking your blood.”

“What does he want?” I ask.

“I have some idea, but there is something else to his presence besides simple orders.” Alaric straightens and takes a step forward, placing his hands on my shoulders. His palms slide over my shoulders, then he grasps my hands in his. I can only look at his thumb drawing slow circles along my wrist. “Will you do me the favor of staying in here as much as possible?”

“Am I to be held prisoner in my rooms then?” I ask. It is one thing to be here at all, away from Kitty. Is it another to be locked up.

Alaric runs a hand through his thick, black hair. There’s something in that simple gesture that makes him look absolutely powerless. “No, never. You are free to roam this floor and the library. I will have Mrs. Westfield bring your meals to you. But I implore you to try to remain hidden until they leave.”

A shiver courses over me, sending goosebumps along my skin. “They?”

“There are more vampires coming. Harkstead is only the first to arrive. Please,” he says, one corner of his mouth twitching downward. “Please consider—”

My stomach turns into knots. “No. I cannot. You know I cannot.”

“It would keep you safe,” he offers.

I shake my head vehemently, taking a few steps back.

“At least think about it. Consider it as a possible option.”

“Fine,” I say. “I willthinkabout it.”

He has given me plenty of reasons before why I should accept the mark and while I do understand them, the thought of someday possibly returning to Kathrine has me keeping my refusal firmly on my lips. I think he understands, so he accepts my compromise, but I think he knows my mind is already made up.

I do feel safe with him, but if I let him near me, I fear I will give into his wish to mark me.

* * *

After several hours of keeping to my room, and pacing, eating the meal brought to me, and even an attempt to sleep early, I lay awake on my bed staring at the ceiling. I managed to sleep for a few hours in small bursts of time, broken by my rapid heartbeat thundering against my ribcage. The thought of this stranger coming into my room to kill me when Alaric can’t get to me in time…

But those were only dreams—nightmares.

The wax candle on my bedside table flickers. I couldn’t bring myself to snuff it out, as if this small flame could do anything to protect me against a vampire.

I am free to wander this floor, and the library. It seems like the only viable option for me. It might do me some good to read and let my mind focus on other things besides the uncertain. Most of all, I will not allow myself to become a prisoner here by my fears.

Slowly, I open the door to my room and peek out into the hallway. Tallow candles burn, casting a soft golden hue along the walls. All seems to be quiet, so If Alaric and Mr. Harkstead are up and about, then they aren’t in this wing of the manor.

I loose a sigh and step over the threshold to my room, closing the door firmly behind me.

One door to the library is ajar. I squeeze myself through the opening, trying to stay as quiet as possible. A fire roars in the enormous hearth, and other than the snap and popping of the burning wood, I don’t hear a sound.

Satisfied, I make my way through the shelves, stopping when I get to a title that catches my eye. I pull the book out and open it. There’s a slight hint of dust from disuse, but under that is the scent of parchment and ink.

The clock above the fireplace chimes a late hour.

I read a few pages, standing where I am. My eyes ache. Too tired to read, but too wound up by nerves to sleep. I close the book and return it to its spot.

“Ladies ought not walk around strange houses at night,” a dark voice croons from behind me.

I spin, pressing my back against the shelves. Immediately, a flush burns its way up my neck at being caught in my nightclothes, which earns a pleased smile from my late night visitor.

“Don’t you know that’s when the monsters come out to play?” Mr. Harkstead’s smile broadens, showing off his long, pointed fangs.

“I couldn’t sleep, and Alaric said I was welcome in the library at any time.” I hate the slight waver in my voice.