3. Alaric

CHAPTER THREE

ALARIC

Gideon: Allie, you’ll never guess who’s called me this evening. Your mother. That’s right, Lady Callista of the Blood Valerian, darling of the Nightshade Court herself, demanding that I set aside my work on Sanctus to plan an elaborate ball at your place in three weeks’ time.

A BALL, Allie? What strange blood have you been quaffing that makes you think YOU can host a ball? You hate dancing, loathe fancy dress, detest vampires, and are morally opposed to fun. All of those things will be in abundance at this ball, especially if I’m organising it.

Have you got high off your paint fumes? What possessed you to agree to this madness?

“ D id you have a pleasant evening, my lord?” Reginald asks as I slide into the car behind him.

“It was positively wretched,” I snap as I brace myself for Reginald’s erratic driving. My phone beeps in my pocket. Gideon again, no doubt. He’s the only other person who messages me, and I wish he wouldn’t. “You should have a word to Lilac about her vintage. Her blood tastes as if it’s watered-down with badger piss.”

“Of course, my lord.” If Reginald is surprised by my crass language, he doesn’t show it. This is wise, since the torment of my weekly visit to the village pub is entirely his fault.

I lean back against the seat as the vehicle speeds out of the village, wiping my lips with the back of my hand. I cannot dislodge the taste that lingers there.

Strawberries and sunlight. The taste of her .

My stomach blooms with warmth from all the blood. At least, I hope it’s the blood and not some far darker desire. When I saw that man harassing her, something stirred inside me, something of the old Alaric who stained the dirt red with the blood of my enemies. The Alaric who believed the world was split between good men and evil men, and he fought on the side of the demons.

I meant only to frighten away the rat, but when I pulled her close and that scent rose from her skin, the monster in me took over. I was little better than him, throwing myself at her as I did, taking from her, but it’s been so long since I’ve felt the warmth of a mouth on mine.

I touch the sharp tip of my fang, shuddering with pleasure at the memory of scraping it along her soft skin, horrified at how close I came to piercing her?—

By some sorcery, that scent still clings to me. My skin throbs with the heat of her living flesh. My ears ring with that delicious little moan she made.

I am sick. All this exposure to humans is turning me mad.

“I saw you speaking to a lovely woman at the bar before I left to bring the car around,” Reginald yells over the rushing wind. He likes to drive with the windows down because he is a masochist. That’s probably also why he still works for me.

I don’t answer him.

“That’s good, my lord! Six weeks ago you couldn’t walk into the pub without the hunger overcoming you. Remember that fellow in the men’s toilets on the first night? We’re lucky he was too drunk to recall why his neck was bleeding. Now you’re talking to humans like you’re one of them.”

“I don’t want to be one of them,” I grumble. “They’re disgusting.”

Not her.

She’s…enchanting.

And that’s all the more reason for me to return to my castle and never speak to another human again. But I can’t host this godsforsaken ball without one.

“You don’t think I’m disgusting, my lord.”

“My opinion of you has lessened since you decided to put me through this ordeal.”

“If there were vampires who did this kind of work, I’d have hired one.” Reginald yanks on the wheel, sending me sliding over the bench seat. “The organiser arrives tomorrow, and I think you’re ready. I’m sure you’ll be able to resist one human. I’ve made up their room in the tower, so you shouldn’t smell them during your slumber, and I’ll be ever at your side if you need me.”

Yes, the organiser. Because Reginald is determined to test my immortal patience, he decided that preparing for my mother’s visit was beyond even his capabilities, and he hired a human to help us tidy my things and arrange the castle while Gideon plans the actual event. He says it will look good to our guests of honour if I’m seen interacting with a human.

I don’t care what my guests think. I don’t want a human in my castle. I don’t want to take these trips into the village to ‘train’ myself not to devour their stupid face.

And most of all, I don’t want a ballroom filled with snooty vampires quaffing my finest blood and acting like they’re so fancy that their coffins don’t rot.

But what I want is of no concern when Callista Valerian is involved.

As long as the organiser doesn’t smell like that woman at the pub, I will endure their presence. And the sooner they leave my castle and my mother hosts her ridiculous ball, things can go back to the way they’ve been for five hundred years – quiet and perfect.