Friends?
Penelope did not have friends. Not since they had been married off. Mrs. Pencrook would have scoffed at the idea of a woman occupying her time outside of her duties to her husband.
There was a time, of course, that such things did not matter. When the women she now knew as belonging to various men,were once girls. When they would make crowns of flowers and dance in the streets with no fear of the shadows or what might exist within them.
That time, however, had long since passed.
The only friend Penelope still had was—
“Eleanor is alive?”
Penelope abandoned whatever fear had been building in her chest as she crossed the room, and without thinking, grabbed the sleeves of his white tunic. His eyes fell to her hand before lifting to meet her gaze.
“So you remember her name,” he said, his voice edged with faint mockery. “And here I thought your wealth and luxury blinded you to such mortal things. It almost sounds as though you worry for her.”
“She is my oldest and dearest friend,” Penelope snapped. “Every night since she was taken, I have stared out that window, hoping to see her return. And every night I weep when I am met with only darkness. So forgive me if I do not take kindly to a monster breaking into my home—into an unwed woman’s bedroom, of all things. I need to know she is safe.”
“Taken?” His brow lifted. “I’m afraid you are mistaken. Your friend left of her own free will. Though I hardly expect someone like you to consider the possibility that she found happiness with amonster.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Someone like me?”
He shrugged, turning to lean casually against the window frame.
“She has letters,” he said, ignoring her question. Dipping a hand into his chest pocket, he drew out a worn, creased piece of parchment. “Many, in fact. Writes to you most nights. And yet… you seem to have received none. One has to wonder why.”
Penelope reached for the envelope but he lifted his hand, clicking his tongue as he waved it above her.
“I have done my job. You know she lives. You know she is in no danger.”
“She sent you with a letter—that is mine! Eleanor wanted me to have it!”
“And she is neither my ward nor my keeper,” he said smoothly. “I told you of her letters. You know she breathes. Beyond that, Lamb, I owe nothing to you nor her.”
“Please. I can pay you. Good coin—gold, silver. Whatever you want!”
“Whatever I want?” He laughed, low and without mirth. “I have walked the world long since before your grandparents’ time. I have more wealth than anything your dear father could dream of offering.”
“Then what is it you wish for? Clearly you want something or you would not have mentioned the letters. So, what is it?”
“I wish to make you an offer. A fair one, if you will have it.”
Penelope’s brows scrunched together, their closeness suddenly dawning on her. Releasing his shirt, she stepped back.
“I shall give you all the letters she writes, become your personal courier. I will also give her your letters should you wish to write back.”
He would do that? A vampire? He would risk wandering beyond the reaches of the Evermore forest for… her?
The vampire’s red eyes were steady upon her. His brown skin soft under the light of the moon that poured into her room. He was taller than anyone she had met before and looked as though he were carved from the mountains. If he wanted to, he could take her, and her screams would be lost to the night. He had no reason to offer her anything. So, if he was asking, that meant it was something only she could offer. Only she could know. And likely, it would be no small ask. Not when he seemed to know Eleanor, and know Penelope’s habits of how oft she would stare out the window.
“What do you want?” she finally asked. “If it is not coin, I do not see that there is much I can offer.”
The vampire smiled as he took a step forward, his eyes upon her like a predator, his fangs peaking out of the corners of his mouth.
Penelope swallowed nothing but her own fear.
Those fangs had tasted blood—violence. They have killed. Knew the taste of death.
“Teach me to play,” he said, tilting his chin toward the grand piano behind her. “Every night, when I know you are alone and your father is asleep. And,” he paused.
