His tone is mocking as he recites the lies Alaric and I have told. I don’t know if he knows the truth or is guessing at it.
I dip my chin, more than aware I don't have Alaric’s mark. The skin on my neck is untouched by a vampire’s fangs. Loose strands of my hair fall over my shoulders to hide the evidence.
I give him a tight smile, shrugging a shoulder. Not the truth, but not a lie either.
He snorts. “Was the title of lady your idea, or his? Because I think the three of us all know you are not of any notable birth—I saw the hovel you lived in.”
My heart stutters, my head jerking up to meet his narrowed gaze. I refuse to confirm or deny any of his suspicions.
He could be trying to trick me into revealing too much. And I’m sure he’d know a lie if I dared to utter one, so I stay silent.
“You are curious, little human,” he says then waits as if expecting me to ask him to continue.
I press my lips into a tight line but raise a single eyebrow.
Apparently, that is all the prompting he needs. “What is it you want?”
“What do you mean?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“I mean. If you could go anywhere, be anywhere without obligation, where would you choose?”
“At home, taking care of my sister.” It’s an easy enough question. I would always choose her—she needs me.
Lawrence tsks and wags a finger. “I said without obligation. Where would you go if no one wanted or needed you or decided for you?”
His question stings in a way I wouldn’t have expected. I open my mouth. Close it. Finally, I say, “I don’t know.”
Lawrence stands, and in a blink, he rounds the table to stand next to me. Another quick movement and he has my chair turned to face him. He leans forward, looking down his nose.
I swallow my heart back down.
He reaches up and brushes my hair back from my shoulder. “Strange though, how you don’t have a bite mark on you where our dear Alaric had his mouth all over you during your little joy ride around the field yesterday.”
My hand clamps down over the side of my neck. The memory of Alaric’s mouth on my skin comes back. Stinging heat works its way up to my face. “That’s… he didn’t… he didn’t bite me then. That’s—” I stop talking, not sure what I am even trying to say.
A pleased smile stretches across his face as he straightens. “I suppose,” he says, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “There are far more… delicious places to bite.”
My mouth parts to deny I have been bitten at all, but he is already walking away. Which is good, because I almost said far more than I should. Not even a day, and I’m already putting our plan in jeopardy. And somehow, we are supposed to do this for two months?
Just as he’s leaving through the open door, Alaric enters. They exchange a brief greeting. I turn away as Alaric’s eyes drift to me. My cheeks still burn from my exchange with Lawrence.
I focus on Cherno as if that would make both vampires disappear. Alaric’s reflection is mirrored in the demon’s large eyes as he approaches.
Both Cherno and the rat move to my discarded plate and begin picking at the food.
“I need to speak with you,” he says, his words clipped.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek and raise my chin to look him in the eye.
His expression is unreadable. Knots form in my stomach. Had I failed last night? Lawrence’s visit a moment ago was proof enough of that. I drank too much. I was careless.
The worst thing is that I have no idea what kind of punishment I will have to face.
Alaric holds out his hand to me. I slip mine into his and a sense of foreboding twists at my heart as his long fingers wrap around my hand.
Chapter Seven
Alaric
“Are you all right, Clara?”
Clara’s flushed cheeks, the way she avoids meeting my gaze, and the demon shit eating grin on Lawrence's face sparks my suspicion.
“I was just leaving,” he says lazily. The scent of blood lingers on his breath, and I look again to Clara.
A low growl rumbles in my throat. Lawrence holds his hands up in surrender as he backs away.
I approach Clara cautiously. Everything about her posture says she is ready to bolt.
“I need to speak to you,” I say.
If Lawrence has so much as laid a finger on her, I will make him regret it.
I offer my hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Clara looks up at me then slips hers into mine. I lead her from the dining room and down the hall toward the music room.
She keeps her head straight forward, chewing on her bottom lip, a movement that draws my eye.
I take her wrist and stop her. She avoids looking at me.
“Did something happen?” I ask. “Did he touch or threaten you?”
She shakes her head, though the color staining her cheeks deepens.
“If that were true, then why won’t you look at me?”
Silence.
“Clara, tell me. What happened?”
She purses her lips and finally meets my gaze. Her cheeks redden further. Her gaze wavers until she looks away. “He implied that you bit me… elsewhere.”
That had not been the answer I’d expected. The tightness in my chest that had formed vanishes.
I want to pry more words from her lips, but she still seems uncomfortable. I let it go, content in knowing Lawrence hadn’t laid a fang on her or threatened her.
“Why didn’t you tell me how to act? What to do? How to talk to them—if I should talk at all?” Clara asks a barrage of questions.
Holding back a laugh, I clasp her shoulders. “Because I wanted you to be yourself. You knew the important parts of what you must do. No one would believe I claimed some timid girl who fawns over any vampire that comes near. You are strong and fearless—and even a little bit reckless. There is a fire in you, and I wanted them to see that.”
Clara inhales sharply and holds her breath several heartbeats as she contemplates my words.
“Oh,” she breathes.
We resume walking, and I reach into my breast pocket and pull out the invitation then hand it to her. She takes it, hopelessly attempting to smooth out the wrinkled edges before reading it.
“We have been invited to the winter Solstice Masquerade at Nightwich in just under two months,” I say.
She remains silent and passes the invitation back when she's finished.
“Where are we going?” she asks when she raises her head to look around.
“To the music room, so I can teach you to dance.”
Clara scrunches her nose. “Teach me to dance? Why?”
“To prepare you for the masquerade.”
I look at Clara, with her head held high, her sights trained straight ahead. She presses her mouth into a thin line.
I fight the smile threatening to form. That expression hasn’t left Clara's face since I found her in the dining room. Did Lawrence’s words affect her that much?
My smile slips and my amusement fades. The masquerade is only two months away. It's longer than Clara has been here, but it is not as long as we need.
I don’t know if I can keep her safe. There is only so much that even I can do.
Clara stops walking at the threshold of the room. She takes it in, her brows pinching.