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“I’m serious, Aiden. I don’t know why he’s mentioning it. I’m not even sure it was real. I’m still convinced I had heatstroke. That kinda thing just doesn’t happen.” Her laugh was flighty and nervous, making him anxious. She wasn’t acting like herself.
“So let me be the judge of whether it sounds ‘crazy’ or not.”
She slumped down on the edge of the bed, clasping her hands together between her knees, drawing his attention to the smooth, pale skin of her thighs where her dress rode higher with the way she sat down so abruptly.
“So you know the stories about vampires? Dracula? Twilight? The whole Transylvania thing?”
“Uh huh,” he said, dragging the word out.
He knew all about the myths in the media. Some of the stories were eerily similar to what happened when Vasirian experienced sanguis manie. Enough to where his friend Kai speculated that someone saw it, and that’s where the legends of vampires came from.
“I thought I saw one.”
His brows pulled together. “What?”
She looked up at him. “A vampire. I thought someone was following me, so I tried to cut across an alley to get to the bus stop faster. I saw a couple together and coulda swore they were making out, but then I saw the guy’s face. He was in pain.” She rolled her lips in and shook her head before making eye contact again.
His gut tightened, a sense of foreboding setting in.
“He told me to run despite the pain he was in. Even though the other man was hurting him.” She lowered her gaze to the floor. “When I saw those glowing blue eyes and fangs… All the blood… I did just that. I ran and left that man there to die.” She sniffed. “I’m terrible. I could have—”
“What? What could you do in a dark alley?” He crouched in front of her. “If someone is attacking another person, you don’t try to be a hero. Not when that person is larger than you.”
He assumed the Vasirian was bigger than her. It didn’t matter. If she had witnessed a Vasirian attacking a human, she would have been in danger. Only rogues attacked humans. It was against their laws to harm humans. He had no doubts what she saw was a Vasirian. The glowing eyes and fangs were enough to convince him. He knew of no other being like his kind.
“I know, but he seemed so worried about me and not himself.”
He rose to sit beside her on the bed, and she turned her body toward his as soon as he reached for her. He stretched his left leg out, leaning on the headboard with his right leg still on the floor to give her space between his thighs to settle close to him. She drew her legs up, curling them beneath her as she nestled against his chest.
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” she whispered.
He stroked her shoulder and arm while resting his other hand on the dip of her waist. “Not even a little.”
He wouldn’t tell her what she saw wasn’t real. He wouldn’t gaslight her like that, but he wouldn’t confirm it either. Even coming up with a plausible excuse didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t want to lie to her. She didn’t seem inclined to ask what he believed, and he hoped it remained that way.
It unsettled him that not only had she witnessed a rogue attack, but that her stalker knew about it. Maybe the rogue was her stalker. That opened up an entirely different set of problems if it wasn’t a one-off situation.
He squeezed her arm, and she wiggled deeper into his embrace.
As it stood, if the Blackthorn Clan learned the truth, they would wipe her memories. He tried to avoid this fate by not getting deeply involved with her, because if she discovered his secret, that was exactly what would happen. If they wiped her memories and she forgot about him, not only would he lose her, but she would be more vulnerable to her stalker without him around to protect her.
He couldn’t even go to Headmistress Velastra for advice, because she would have to follow protocol.
No one knew the long-term effects a memory wipe had on humans; the procedure wasn’t performed often. He needed to protect Charlotte from that. Needed to protect her from everything. And the only way to do that was to keep her secret.
He listened as her breathing settled and grew deeper as sleep claimed her. The sound had grown familiar after the many nights of her lying next to him.
He wouldn’t compromise this.
“I think it’s time I return to Rosebrook,” she said, grabbing his attention. “I’m for real this time.”
He looked up from the plate of honey Dijon chicken, green beans, and rice to find her nodding with a determined look on her face.
After the impromptu nap on his chest, she woke and insisted on making him dinner for listening to her “silly ramblings,” as she put it. He had a feeling she was still trying to convince herself what she saw was a product of the heat, or something else—something except the reality. It pained him to let her accept that, but if she believed it wasn’t real, maybe he could keep others in the dark about it.
She continued, unprompted, as she cut into her chicken. “I mean, after the break-in, the dead bird, and now an honest-to-goodness threat on that note, I can’t stay here. I don’t care if he thinks I’m giving in.” She gave him a weak smile. “I’m stubborn, not stupid.”
“Well, you know I’ll stay with you until you’re ready to go, and I’ll take you back once the time comes.”
