“Because I have the ninth floor to myself,” she says. “And no one ever takes the maintenance stairs. But like I said, the ninth floor ismine.”
“If you really want me to leave, why not compel me?”
Exasperation turns to shock. “And spend a century in jail?”
I scoff. “Oh, I’msurethe Council will care about their princess breaking the rules.”
“Don’t call me that,” she growls. Her face is red. I’ve struck a nerve.Good.
“You’re probably used to getting everything you want because you’re an Astra,” I say in the softest voice I can muster. I step towards her. The open window allows a breeze in, the cold biting my cheeks. “But you’re not stepping over me,princess.”
“You know nothing about my family,” she says, hand tightening around her paper cup. “So, watch your words, Cassie.”
“Or what?”
The woods rustle outside the hall, the highest branches brushing against the windowsill. A few droplets of rain hit our desks. Her face, red with rage, remains tight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a vampire this angry before. As soon as they realise what I am, their expression shifts to terror. I wouldn’t mind seeing that fear on Astra’s features.
“Give me back my cardigan,” she finally says. Her voice is small and dry. I peel it off and toss it at her.
“I never asked for it in the first place.”
Her expression changes, and too late, I realise she’s spotted the wound on my arm. “What is that?”
I clasp a hand over the puncture marks. “None of your business,” I say.
She glares at me, jaw tense. Even when she’s angry, she’s beautiful. She opens her mouth to say something but, instead, just sighs. She takes the straw out of her cup, removes the lid, and tips it to her lips, letting the last few drops of blood touch her tongue. My breath hitches at the sight, and I swallow hard. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she finally whispers, before grabbing the black curtains that split our room and pulling them shut.
Chapter
Seven
Local newspapers don’t seem to know anything about last night’s incident, and when I call Penny, she doesn’t pickup.
Astra’s cardigan is lying over my chair.
I still remember the feeling of her hand, cold, as she wrapped the garment around my shoulders. My heart races in a way it shouldn’t. It’s not my fault that she’s gorgeous. Whowouldn’tbe attracted to her? But I try my best to remember our conversation. The ease with which she thought she could get rid ofme.
I glare at the curtains hiding her coffin and whisper, “In your dreams.”
Sitting on thesteps leading down to the Cat’s Tail, I go over everything I’ve mapped so far. It’s far too messy, but hopefully, once I transfer the scribbles to a larger sheet of paper, it’ll make sense. Working down in the tunnels may not be the best idea. They’re cold, damp, and I can hear the sound of my own breath. But I can’t bear the thought of staying in my room, where I might see her again.
I have my own symbols on the paper. An arrow, pointing up or down for slope, a zigzag for stairs, and a happy face, which I use only once, for flat ground. In less than an hour, I’ve filled three more pages, and my legs ache. It’s harder to breathe down here. At least all this discomfort is keeping me from thinking about her. Until Iamthinking about her, and my skin crawls at the memory.
Astra already knew we were roommates. Meaning that at some point, she must have pulled my bed curtains open. She’s been spying onme.
I kick a wall, frustration bubbling in my veins.
Something isn’t right.Whyare we roommates? Who put us together? I feel a chill in the back of my neck and swallow hard. No one knows what I am. No one in their right mind would pair the Astra heir with a vampire hunter. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve been forced together on purpose.
By the time I’m sitting in the Integration lecture hall, I’m on my fourth coffee, this one with two shots. Every muscle in my body aches, reminding me of what I got up to in Inverness. The bite mark itches under a plaster. Stephan frowns at me, but we both keep quiet as Clemence talks us through the composition of synthetic blood and all its benefits, as opposed to human blood.
“Can anyone name any of the adverse effects?” Clemence asks, and without thinking, I raise my hand.
“Synthetic blood does not allow them to transform into bats,” I say, picturing the monsters I faced in Inverness. “They’re also weaker when they drink synthetic blood.”
“But they’re still able to compel us,” another student chimesin.
When Penny first told me about treaties-abiding vampires, who drink synthetic blood instead of human blood, I didn’t believe her. Every mission I’ve ever been on has revolved around a vampire’s thirst, their bloodlust, and not once has a single monster shown any remorse towards their victims. The thought that there were vampires out there who would forsake the taste of human blood, forsake their innate powers, just to abide by the treaties, was inconceivable.
