“ ‘Sister,’ ” Aliz mutters. “Do you think that message might be for me? If my sister’s library was nearby, maybe—”
“But your sister died before you were born,” I say.
“Right,” she says, voice uneven. “I should check it out, anyway.”
“Don’t get lost,” I say.
When she hangs up, I remain still, staring at the ceiling. Maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe the mark’s pull is already stronger than my blood.
Chapter
Twenty-One
The palace in the woods is in a terrible state. Overgrown wisteria and ivy cascade down columns, each pillar riddled with cracks, bursting with moss. And just as I did last night, I run.
I can feel her behind me. Stalking me, then melting into the shadows of the abandoned palace. I run down a wide hallway, the moonlight shining through stained glass and casting grotesque shadows on marble sculptures.
Aliz Astra is at the door, clinging to it, her crimson eyes piercing the midnight dark. A sound catches in my throat, midway between a sob and a gasp. The sharp vines have spread over my skin, moving, cutting throughme.
My bare feet ache against the cold marble floor, and I stop beneath a painting of a woman, a vampire with snow-white hair falling in a straight curtain, down past her waist, with nothing more than a thin sheet of fabric covering her. And although she’s a figure in a painting, frozen in oil and thick brushstrokes, her eyes snap towards mine. Her red lips part, biting through the canvas. Paint cracks and crumbles as she reaches through the frame.
She’s covered in blood, and her eyes glow a horrifying electric blue. Every sense in my body tells me to flee. I hear Aliz, too, closer, telling me to wait, telling me she’s thirsty. I run through a glass ballroom and smash the wall, sprinting straight into the hedge maze.
I snap a stick and make a cross. I cry, telling her to stay back. My feet bleed as I get tangled in thorns. A dead end, and her hand appears through the hedge, pulling me through. And just like last time, when I’m in her arms, the pain, the fear, the helplessness, all fade, leaving only her. Like last time, I kiss her neck, I dig my nails into her skin, wanting her more than anything.
Then her red eyes are on mine, gentle, deadly. But she doesn’t bite me right away. She takes her time, kissing my neck, pushing me onto the ground, pulling up my nightgown. Her fingers run over my skin, and she knows exactly how to touch me. I pull her closer, and I say,Bite me,over and over, as she kisses down my torso. I feel her tongue, her fingers burying deep inside me. I moan, and again I beg for her fangs.
And she gives me what I ask for, fangs sinking into my inner thigh, curling her fingers up, and—
I wake. Myeyes are wet with tears, my heart racing, skin burning.
The feeling of what just happened, everything, still buzzing under my skin. I bury my head beneath my pillow. Tears of frustration wet my cheeks, the unbearable shame at having dreamt of her like that tightening my throat.
My body burns in a way it hasn’t since I became a vampire hunter.
I remain still for another moment. Is she already here? I search my bedsheets for my phone, but I can’t find it. It must have fallen, I think. I reach a hand through the curtains, and when I pull one back, the fabric opens an inch.
I peek out and see her staring right back at me, eyes bright red.
I freeze, still holding the curtain. Her expression is completely blank. She’s sitting eerily still, legs folded, right at the limit of thesaltward. A faint blue light shimmers from the ward, preventing her from getting through.
I open the curtain an extra inch, and she breathes in, as though she’s only now aware of the fact that I can see her, too.
“Go to bed,” I say, my voice calm.
“I was waiting for you to wake up.” If it wasn’t for her red eyes, I would assume she was completely fine. But I recognise that expression. Thirst, the sort of thirst that takes over a vampire’s mind completely, has frozen her features in place, like the stillness before a storm. I swallow hard.
“Why?” I ask. The desire that could have made me easy prey has left me entirely, my hunting instincts slowly kickingin.
I might just have to tell her the truth. Show her my weapons so she cowers in fear, hides in her coffin, and waits until the monster leaves her room. My chest aches. She’s looking at me the way the vampires in blood parties look at me. She sees a meal, not a person.
“You were begging me to bite you,” she says, her face calm. Her voice is alluring, trying to pull me in. “I just want to give you what you asked for.”
“Very kind of you,” I say. “But it’s not happening.” I look across the room. There’s a face mask on the floor. She must have tried to withstand the scent. The air freshener lies on the ground, too, along with a can of deodorant. She must have opened the window, and if the wind had blown just a little harder, it could have scattered the salt. Based on what she just said, I was talking in my sleep again. The shame that already clings to me deepens, burning my neck. “Go back to your coffin.”
“One sip,” she pleads. Her red eyes are too bright. I’ve seen this happen to other vampires. Their minds twisted, thirst the only remaining sense, louder than reason. I wish I’d never seen her like this. But I knew this was a possibility.
I take a deep breath and focus.
