“You sound so serious.”
“This is serious.” His eyes blaze as his cool fingers knit in mine. “Winnie, you must know that the time we’ve spent together has been some of my brightest nights upon this earth. But I fear those days have come to an end. I fear you cannot know the truth and still want me, but I owe you my vulnerability, mytruth. You see, I am a?—”
“My lord.”
We leap apart. My chest heaves as I turn to Reginald in the doorway. He looks miserable. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor.”
“Tell them to go away!” Alaric booms. “We’re busy!”
“I wish I could, my lord. But it’s your mother. She’s arrived early.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
WINNIE
Alaric stiffens.
I reach over and squeeze his hand. “It’s too late to worry about the mess now. The ballroom and office look lovely. And the drawing room is?—”
“It is not the rooms I’m concerned about.” Alaric’s features swim with pain. “She cannot see you here. She will smell you on me. She will know.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You must leave immediately.” He shoves me towards Reginald. “Take Winifred to the village. The Nevermore Coven will look after her. You can ship her things later?—”
He’s scaring me. “No way.” I shake my head. I can still taste him on my lips and feel the oddly sharp point of his incisor against my tongue. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I understand the fear in his eyes. All those years living with my mother’s illness, I wished I didn’t have to do it all alone. We could never have anyone over to our house, because then they’d see how we lived. I had Claire, eventually, when I told her. But she was just as young andclueless as I was.
Judging by his level of agitation, Alaric’s dark secret involves his mother, and I won’t abandon him to her. I can’t go back to London and leave him alone, not when …
… not when he’s the reason for the butterflies inside me, and the warmth kindling at the edges of my heart.
“Her car is blocking the bridge, anyway,” Reginald says. “Perhaps we should?—”
“Alaric Valerian!” A sultry voice booms through the castle. “Is slinking in the shadows how you greet your ravishing mother?”
Alaric’s face pinches. I grab his hand and drag him into the Stabby Chic room just as an imposing woman sweeps through the doors. Her dress looks like something straight off a Paris runway – a flimsy, off-the-shoulder silk thing with a full skirt, which seems a strange choice for swanning around a freezing medieval castle. But, like him, Alaric’s mother doesn’t seem to feel the cold. Not a single goosebump appears on her thin, perfectly toned arms. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a mess of dark ringlets, and her makeup is absolutely flawless.
She looks young enough to be his sister. Clearly, the Valerians have no use for Beth’s anti-aging elixirs.
Alaric makes a face that speaks of centuries of torment, and slinks over to her. She proffers her hand. He takes it in his, raises her delicate fingers to his lips, and kisses her knuckles.
“You smellwretched,” she informs him. “What foul taboo have you been indulging in away from the eyes of the court?”
This woman cannot be his mother. It’s impossible. She’s barely older than I am.
And what does she mean by “court”?
I glance between Alaric and his mother, trying to figure out what in Dracula’s name is going on. Alaric’s last words about a dark secret blaze inside my skull.
His mother is really his sister? Is that the secret?
Gross, gross, gross.
Thatcan’tbe it, can it?
“Mother, you were not due to arrive for another two weeks,” Alaric scolds her lightly as he escorts her into the Stabby Chic hall. I trail behind them. “You have travelled during the daylight hours. We haven’t finished preparing your rooms.”
