“I continue to ask,” he says, his voice is soft and low. He looks exhausted. “Because I do not know of a better way to keep the others away from you.”
I’m not ready to let go of this argument, though there is little point in fighting for the sake of it when Alaric doesn't seem willing to continue.
“Fine,” I say, throwing my hands in the air. “Keep asking me if you must, but I can only promise to think about it. I don’t understand why you are pushing this. We’ve already agreed to—” Now it’s my turn to hesitate. “To-to make them believe I am yours.”
My heart pounds at hearing myself say those last three words. They are words I can’t mean, and it’s not something I can want. Xander is still waiting for me.
I turn to face the window and wrap my arms around my middle.
The view of the property and the tangled forest beyond has become more familiar than the one outside my bedroom window back in Littlemire.
“At least it won’t be for too long,” I say. There is a silence at my back that has me turning on him, eyes wide. My voice raises an octave, “Will it be long?”
The answer is in his unwillingness to look me in the eye. “There is more to the situation than I said earlier.”
I drop my arms to my side, my hand bumps against the blade at my hip. I have half a mind to run him through with it right now.
“Why did you withhold information you knew I would want? You say you need me to trust you, but then you do this. How can I trust you if you keep things from me?”
He's not cowed by my anger, but neither is he upset. “I need you to trust me to tell you what you need to know, when you need to know,” Alaric says evenly. “This is a lot to take in. I wanted to ease you into it—to give you the chance to process it all.”
It irritates me that his reasoning does make sense. I can’t help the part of me that wants to fight. It isn’t about him, or whatever information he held back, but rather everything I am struggling to hold on to and come to grips with.
“Out with it then,” I demand.
“They will be staying here through the end of the season.”
Black spots form across my vision. “That’s… that’s…”
Two months…
He continues as if what he said wasn’t anything to worry about. “Then, they will escort us both to Nightwich.”
“Go to Nightwich?” I sputter. “What about—”
Alaric holds up his hand. “Our stay there will only be a week. Two at most.”
I press my hand to my head. My vision wavers and I stumble slightly as my legs threaten to go out from under me. I might as well walk downstairs with open veins and offer myself up for dinner.
Alaric steps forward and grips my elbows, keeping me upright. I cling to his forearms, unable to stand without his support. This ruse of ours might as be for an eternity.
I’ve never been skilled in the art of lying. My expressions always end up giving me away. I don’t know if I can pretend for so long. Days, maybe. But months?
Now his insistence on marking me makes sense. Finding my legs again, I take a step back.
“This is impossible,” I say. The freedom he promised me slips from my fingers, like smoke from a doused fire.
“Perhaps it is, but without the mark, it is our only option.” He straightens his back and looks almost regal. “There will be several tasks, the first of which will be presenting you to my guests tonight.”
“Present me?”
“It is a simple matter and one of the things we must do to avoid their suspicions. Otherwise, they will wonder why I am hiding you.” His lips draw into a tight line.
I take in a breath then release it slowly.
“Tell me what being marked entails,” I say, then hold up a hand. “Not because I want it, but knowing will help me do what I need to do.”
Alaric’s eyes darken a shade. Then in a blink, he is a hair’s breadth away. His hands come up to cup my face, bringing his face closer. My eyes slide shut, ready for the kiss I’m sure will come.
“First,” he whispers, his breath brushing my lips. “There can be no attempts on my life.” One hand tangles in my hair, the other moves around my waist to pull me flush against him. “And second, you would not pull away.”
Alaric kisses along my jaw and down my neck. I try not to move or react, but my damned body has a mind of its own, pressing even closer to his.
“Yes, like that,” he says. “And it ends with you needing to obey my every word.” And then he releases me. The cold air contrasts with his embrace. My eyes snap open and Alaric stands halfway across the room.
I nearly gasp at the sudden loss of his warmth and the last thing he said. Shit… He manipulated me so easily.
I narrow my eyes.
“I am not your puppet,” I snap.
“This is not for me, my dear Clara, but so the others believe. You are—” he shakes his head. “I would never want you to be a mindless puppet. This is nothing more than a part we must play.”
“I hate this… it makes me feel like… like…”
“A possession?” he offers, with a hint of bitterness to his voice.
I nod.
“Then, you must remember, my dear Clara, that you are not.”
I clench my fists in the folds of my skirt. “You could always let me go.”
“I’m sorry, that is no longer an option. You have been claimed. The others know you live and who you are.”
It isn’t the answer I wanted, but in truth, I did not expect anything else. Still, knowing that does nothing to ease the ache in my heart.
Alaric backs away to leave. “Mrs. Westfield will be in shortly to help you prepare for the night.”
I nod. There is nothing else I can do.
He pauses long enough to say, “Remember to obey.”
Chapter Four
Clara
I don’t miss the fact that my dress is the exact shade of blue as Alaric’s eyes. I tilt my head, contemplating how much time and effort it must have taken to make sure the material ended up this particular shade.
Reaching up to run a hand through my hair, I barely manage to stop myself in time from ruining the long and painful hour Mrs. Westfield had spent arranging it into intricate knots and curls. Whether I was in more pain, or she was, is still up for debate.
My neck and shoulders are bare, and the neckline is low in the current fashion for extravagant parties. Long gloves rise halfway past my elbows to hide the thin wrapping on my healing arms.
I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. Alaric had said he was going to present me to the four vampires. I’m not ready for that many eyes on me, let alone the possibility of more than being watched.
I pluck at the material of the skirt. It’s lighter than any other material I’ve worn before, and the built-in corset is so tight I can hardly move.
There are no pockets, and the material is too thin to strap the dagger to my thigh, let alone hide it anywhere else on my person.
It seems I have no choice but to leave it behind. Alaric will be with me, and I have to hope that his presence will be enough.
Obey. Obey. Obey… the thought of doing everything someone else demands twists my stomach into knots. I’ve never obeyed anyone before and I've survived well enough. Of course, survival has always meant, doing what is necessary, and it seems this is necessary.