Loving her will destroy me utterly. But I am more than ready to be ruined.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
WINNIE
Mum: The bloody council bloody lady bloody came over. She wanted to come inside but I wouldn’t let her. Can you imagine the nerve! She stood on the street and snapped photos, so I threw all those doll heads at her. Haha, now she won’t come back. And you said those doll heads were rubbish.
Iwake to fading sunlight on my face and the memory of a song with words I don’t understand.
My eyes fall on the mess of pillows scattered across the bed and floor, and the person-sized indent in the bed beside me.
Alaric slept here.
Alaric slept here because Iwent to bed with him. Because he gave me the best orgasm of my life three times over and whispered all those filthythingsin his gravelly voice …
That beautiful sad song in a language I don’t understand plays across my memory.
I slept through the night again. I didn’t have the nightmares.
I didn’t have nightmares becauseAlaric was here.
I roll out of bed, surprised at how good I feel. This is what a proper night’s sleep feels like. Or rather, a proper day’s sleep. My phone says it’s nearly 5 pm. Alaric will be having his evening swim right around now.
And when he gets back, we can confront Callista and take a shot at catching a killer, saving his head from being disassociated with his body, and ending a regressive ancient vampire law.
Just, you know, a typical day for a professional organiser.
I find a tray of fresh bread, preserves, hard-boiled eggs and pastries at the foot of my bed, with a note from Reginald explaining that while Lady Callista is staying in the house, he’ll have to serve my meals in my room.
Okay, sure.
I also notice that one of the chairs under the window has been moved into the corner by the bathroom. There are a couple of charcoal sticks on the floor beside it, but no other signs of Alaric.
I throw on wide-leg trousers and a cute purple cap-sleeve tee, stuff my face with pastries, shove my feet into my Ugg boots, and fling open the door.
I stifle a scream.
“Good afternoon, Ms Preston,” Reginald says from his position on the landing. “My lord apologises that he could not be here when you awoke. He had some business to attend to, so I’m taking over his guard duties. I’ll escort you to the ballroom. I’m sure he’ll be eager to see you.”
“Thanks, Reginald.”
As we approach the ballroom, I hear a faint swooshing noise.I suppose his mother has him working on preparations for the ball.
Reginald pushes the doors open, and I peer into the gloom.
My heart leaps into my throat.
Alaric dances across the vast marble ballroom, his long fingers wrapped around an enormous sword. He is majestic as he steps and lunges and parries an invisible foe, the sword glinting as it slices through air.
Remember how I said I always dreamed of a knight in shining armourcoming to rescue me?
Now that dream is weaving a deadly dance in front of my eyes, and he ismajestic.
And hot AF.
Hot like a lovechild of Aragorn and Geralt of Rivia.
Alaric must hear my lady parts gasping, because he whirls around and stops short when he sees me. The sword clatters to the floor.
