Footsteps receded. Silence returned.
Behind her, Elias’ laugh rippled up from the shadows. Low. Satisfied. “A rat of all things?”
Penelope groaned as she turned around and there he was again, sprawled out on her bed as though he possessed ownership of it.
“We were almost caught!”
“You ken I can hear when he nears? You needn’t worry. I could be across town before he made it to the top of the stairs.”
“It does not matter! You’re not the only one who has something to lose!” Her voice broke, her hands flailing despite herself. “You are selfish! You storm into my room, dangling my friend in front of me, demanding I trust you after you break in, after you—” she gestured furiously at the breadth of him, the fangs, the obscene ease with which he filled her space, herbed“—after you ask me to make myself indecent to feed your… your hunger?” His mouth parted, but she steamrolled on. “And, out of all times—you choose now? The worst possible timing!”
“Because of Henry?” he cut in smoothly, his voice slipping between her breaths.
“Yes! No! I—” her voice cracked, betraying her. Her whole body trembled. “I don’t know, alright?”
Elias rose, slow as if not to startle her already prattling mind. “Then allow me to offer some clarity, as a sign of good faith of our deal.” His voice dropped, as did his eyes which fell to her heaving chest before trailing back up. “Your heart did not leap at his name. It did not quicken. It dropped, heavy as stone. I heard it. As for my rudeness, this was unintended,” his hand wrapped around hers, lifting her fingers to his lips, placing a tender kiss upon them while never allowing his heated gaze to leave hers. “I do hope you can forgive me. It has been some time since I have been in such close quarters with a Lady.”
Penelope felt blood rush to her cheeks as heat rose where it had no right to.
“I am fine,” she said, pulling her hand back and clutching it to her chest.
Elias took another slow step forward, causing her to step back in time until her back met the door with a muted thud. His eyes seemed to deepen in their shade of red as he leaned down. His fangs brushed her ear sending her stomach flying as her breath hitched.
His hand lifted, fingers tracing slow, swirling patterns over her breastbone, directly above the thunder of her heart in the slightest whisper of a touch—but he was touching her nonetheless. And damn her, she did not hate it. It did not disgust her or scare her. To her horror, it excited her. Being caged in by his massive form, knowing she could not escape—it sent a thrill through her core.
She closed her eyes as she took in a wavering breath. His fingers drifted lower, gliding along the cut of her dress, coaxing the unspoken, unseen parts of her into awareness before—
“For future reference, Lamb,” he rasped. His breath fanned her ears as her pulse fought to drown out all other sound. “This is what it feels like when your heart dances.” His touch vanished. And with it, the spell he had cast upon her.
Her eyes fluttered open. His smug face loomed above her, a predator satisfied with the point he’d made, daring her to deny the desire he had just awakened—taunting her with her singular moment of weakness.
Penelope shoved him back, forcing space between them and whatever hold he’d planted on her. That was all it was—a trick, a game, a spell meant to toy with her. Nothing more.
Elias let her push him away, a soft, amused laugh slipping past his lips.
She clenched her fists, struggling not to scream at him, though every fiber of her burned with frustration at his unshaken composure.
“I have conditions,” she snapped, voice sharp, almost brittle. “If you want this… this deal, if you want us to… help each other, you do not hurt me. Not once. Not ever.”
“And?” he repeated, his voice blank.
“And, the letters,” she pressed on. “One for every lesson, and another when you need my blood. Agree to this, and I’ll do it.”
6
PENELOPE
The words had poured from her lips with a startling, almost sacrificial grace. As though it were something she had truly yearned for. Yet, no sooner than they had crossed into the air between them, Penelope felt the weight of them, heavy and irrevocable. Her admission, her offering, seemed to exist apart from her—an utterance that, should her father ever find out, would send him into an early grave.
And what would her father think? His daughter—his only family, making a deal with what he would consider the devil. A demon. A bloody vampire!
And then, no—no. All of her doubt began to surface in a panic that chased her heart because what had she agreed to? She had not only allowed a man in her quarters, in her bed no less, but she had actuallyofferedto give herself to him?
The thought made her stomach turn, yet her feet did not move. All reason, all self-preservation had fled, leaving her where she was—waiting for his answer like some pet. Like a lamb seeking comfort in the shadow of a fox, even as his jaws hovered open.
And Elias… Elias had sensed it too, perhaps. He stood motionless, a statue carved from doubt and longing, watching her as one might a wild, delicate thing—afraid that any movement might send her fleeing into the dark.
“You would agree to this?” he asked softly, his voice deceptively calm, though his gaze betrayed a flicker of disbelief.
