I place my fingers over Alaric’s hand and try to prise them off my arm.
“This is going to work. The Nevermore Murder Club and Smutty Book Coven will come through for us. You haven’t met these ladies, but they can do anything. The hardest part is going to be getting your mother to agree. Call her now.”
I can’t help it. I love a new project, and this ismuch more important than cleaning up Alaric’s castle. It’s about cleaning up hislife. I want to get started.
“If I propose this ludicrous idea and she refuses, I may have to kill her. In addition to all the pots we still need to sort, you’ll have to clean the blood out of the carpet.” Alaric sighs. “Reginald?”
Reginald appears a moment later, bowing deeply. “My lord.”
“Where is my mother? Bring her to us. We wish to speak to her.”
“She and Perdita left to visit an artist on the Sanctus Estate. She says not to expect her until early morning, and she left her Thralls behind as she says they will feast at the party.”
“When did she leave?”
“Around the time you stabbed Hrodebert.”
Alaric sighs. “And you remained on guard at the door because …”
“Because I trust your mother about as much as I trust German vampires to make a decent blood pudding,” Reginald says. “Which is to say, not at all.”
“You were listening.”
“I’m sorry, my lord. It’s only that I don’t want Ms Preston to leave.” Reginald beams at me. “If I may say so, I think her plan has merit?—”
“Very well! We shall have an audience with Callista tomorrow. For now, my future wife is yawning. Reginald, if you could bring Winnie some more candles for her candelabra, she shall retire to her room to sleep.” Alaric moves silently towards the door. “I will walk with you.”
“I’m sleepy, not maimed. I can walk myself.”
“Even if my mother isn’t in the castle, her Thralls are here. I don’t trust them. You agreed that I am to remain by your side at all times.”
I roll my eyes, but the butterflies are doing a sultry little salsa number.
Reginald hands me a fresh candelabra lit with flickering candles, and we begin our meandering walk through the castle, Mirabelle trotting ahead of us with her tail held high. Alaric doesn’t sweep me into his arms this time, and I admit I’m a little disappointed. He walks stiffly, his eyes fixed on me. His fingersfind their way to the small of my back as he guides me through the narrow hallways and darkened corners.
We reach the top of the stairs.
“Well, goodnight,” I say. “Don’t let the coffin bugs bite.”
“Sweet dreams, Winifred Preston.”
I push open the door to my room and set down the candelabra. When I turn around, Alaric is standing behind me. The sight of such raw emotion on his usually stony countenance startles me.
“What are you doing?”
Alaric’s eyes are fathomless voids. “I … I am trying to commit every moment with you to memory, so I may revisit these days and nights long after you’re gone.”
That might be the strangest and most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. I swallow down the lump in my throat.
I want him.
I surge up on my toes, pressing my lips to his. He starts, and makes a noise of surprise, but it takes barely a second before he is wrapping his arms around my waist, lifting me up to his chest, his lips firm and possessive as he carries me with no effort, as though I weigh less than a feather.
“Winnie, I?—”
I hold up a finger to his lips. “You asked me what would make me happy. This, you, tonight – that’s what I want.”
“We should?—”
