A chill skitters down my spine. Mr. Harkstead terrifies me. He is a predator in a way Alaric never was, even when I thought he might kill me.
How different could they be to visit Alaric? Then again, he did warn me—he even offered me an easy way out. I am a fool for not taking the opening Alaric had given me last night. But I stand by my choice—I don’t want the mark. I will win my freedom and go home to Kitty.
I set the book down and pace. It is not late in the afternoon yet, but it is close, and I am crawling out of my skin with nothing but my thoughts.
The sun is peeking through the clouds, burning away the morning gloom. I wonder why it was so important to wait until midday. Are vampires unable to stand the bright light?
Either way, it’s close enough to noon.
I grab the dagger from under my pillow. Cherno’s head pops up as I hide it in my pocket. I ignore the creature and stride out of the room. The sound of flapping leather wings follows me down the hall.
Once I am outside, Cherno disappears. The day is chilly but bright. The sky is a clear, bright blue that stretches on endlessly.
I’ve never been to the stables during my time here, but I find my way to them effortlessly. Behind the barn is a large fenced in field where two large, black horses graze. One has white covering the bottom portion of its two hind legs. The other has a spot of white between its eyes. While they are roughly the same size as other horses I have seen, they are sturdier. They look as if they were built to be powerful rather than fast.
A twig snaps underfoot. The horses lift their massive heads, nostrils flaring. I am glad there is a fence between us. I’m not sure they aren’t demon born.
They must decide I pose no threat because they eventually ignore me and resume grazing. I cautiously approach the fence. The closest one watches me warily.
Their thick manes nearly brush the ground every time they reach for another bite.
I fold my arms on the top rung of the fence and rest my chin, content to watch them. I’ve only seen horses tethered to wagons laden with straps and equipment, or the occasional carriage. In both cases, their coats were patchy and legs coated in mud. These two don’t have a speck of dirt on them. It’s clear they are well cared for.
The horse with the mark on its forehead meanders near me, its velvety coat gleams in the sunlight.
I reach out to pet the animal when a rich, deep voice asks, “Do you ride?”
Alaric’s warm breath brushes over my ear, sending a tingling sensation skittering down my spine.
I spin, nearly losing my balance, and catch myself on the fence.
Alaric takes a step back. The sun guilds his black hair bringing out hints of blue in the shining strands.
“What are you doing out right now? I thought the sun…” I trail off, not entirely sure what I thought. I only know that Mr. Steward told me to wait until midday before leaving my rooms.
Alaric inches closer, dipping his head as if he will whisper a secret. “The sun doesn’t kill us—if that’s what you thought. It weakens our powers, so most vampires prefer to sleep at this time. We are demon cursed, not demons themselves.”
“You don’t sleep during the day?” I ask.
He smiles. “Sometimes, but I wanted to talk with you in private.” He moves closer, caging me in with his arms, though it’s hardly necessary with his body pinning me to the fence.
We have been more intimate than this before, but there’s also something different about this moment.
“What are you doing?”
Alaric pulls in a breath, then offers a rueful smile. “Ah, yes.” He pulls back slightly. “You see, my guests are watching from the window. They believe you are marked, so if we keep our distance, it would seem odd, and they might guess the truth. So, unless you wish me to give you the mark…”
I don’t want it, so I play along. I lift a hand and run my fingers through his hair. This feels awkward. I’m not sure what to do with my other hand, but after a moment’s hesitation, I settle with resting it on his upper arm.
“Good girl,” Alaric says, but there’s no joy in his tone or expression.
If I didn’t know better, I would say he was disappointed.
Pretending for others feels wrong. Every time we’ve been close in the past, it just happened. But that doesn’t stop my heart from hammering at his nearness now.
“So, do you?” he asks.
I lick my lips and try to remember what we are talking about. “Do I what?”
“Ride.” Alaric angles his head in the direction of the horses.
I have seen horses, I’ve been near them, but I’ve never so much as touched one, let alone ridden one. No one in Littlemire rode horses. They were beasts of burden, tools for people to use. Only the rich owned them, taking them riding on hunts as part of their celebrations.
“No, I have never had occasion to.”
“Then,” he says, moving to the side and leaping over the fence in a single, fluid motion. The horse with the white mark on its forehead trots up to him the moment his feet land. “Perhaps, this is a perfect opportunity.”
Alaric mounts the horse without a saddle or reins.
But when he holds a hand out, beckoning me to him, I have no choice but to squeeze my way between the gaps in the fence boards and go to him.
I stop beside him. Sitting astride the horse, he towers over me, and I have to crane my neck back to look up at him.
The animal is massive and made of solid muscle. Alaric sits with his legs straddling the beast, but I, however, am wearing a dress. I’m not sure how this will work.
I take a deep breath and slip my hand into his. He effortlessly pulls me up in front of him.
My eyes widen. This is so high off the ground and sitting as I am, I feel as though I could slip and fall off at any moment.
The horse shifts impatiently. I let out a small squeak.
“Are you all right?”
“I—yes, but will I fall?”
“I would never let you fall,” he says. At first, I think he’s teasing me, but his face is serious. “You can put one leg on either side of the horse if that would make you more comfortable.”
“I’m wearing a dress,” I say through clenched teeth.
He shrugs, and the horse starts to move.
“Fine,” I say.
His arm tightens around my waist, and I indelicately move one leg to the other side. My skirt bunches up around my thighs, showing the lower half of my legs. I should be embarrassed, but there is only Alaric and nature for as far as the eye can see as we move away from the manor.
The horse walks at a leisurely pace. I hold my breath, waiting for the horse to take off at a teeth-jarring run. But the ride is smooth and steady.
At my back, Alaric holds me against him with his arm, hand splayed across my belly. I feel safe. My breathing evens and I lean back into him without thinking.
We ride in silence for the first lap around the pasture.
“What did you mean by you being demon cursed?” I ask.
I know he heard me because every muscle in his body goes rigid at my back. He says nothing for so long I’m not sure he will answer.
“It is a figure of speech—nothing more,” Alaric says in a clipped tone. His fingers twitch as if he’s calculating his thoughts and unaware of this tick.
It’s a lie. If that were true, he would have replied immediately. I twist to face him and find his mouth inches from my own.