Page 16 of The Immortal’s Mark

Tall. Quiet. Serious to the point of being dull. The vampire is dressed in his usual black t-shirt and charcoal slacks, not a wrinkle in sight.

Alex told me he’d leave a lieutenant behind to protect me, but I didn’t expect the guy to be so…intense.

After two days of trying to prompt him into conversation, I gave up. Looking at Gregory now, he doesn’t even spare a glance at my sudden attention. Instead, his midnight-blue eyes scan the horizon as if the distant trees might suddenly attack.

I turn away and flop down dramatically.

I’m bored.

I crave something to help pass the time other than training, but I’ve pretty much run through all the activities the mansion has to offer. Without Alex’s presence, I’m resigned to suffer.

Argos, still chewing the stick, inches closer until his long body presses up the length of my leg. I pat his back, glad he doesn’t decide to leave me in my self-pity.

I wish I had someone to talk to.

Argos paws my leg and nudges the branch toward my hand. When I don’t immediately grab the slobbery stick, he lets out a low, pitiful whimper.

“Alright, alright.” I push myself up. “One more throw.”

Winding back, I let the stick fly, but it doesn’t go far.

Argos immediately returns for another go. I pick up the stick and am about to throw when a voice clears behind me. “Ahem.”

I turn to find Gregory watching me.

He clears his throat again, the sound oddly uncertain for someone who can decapitate monsters with his fangs for a living.

“May I?” He nods toward the stick.

It takes me several seconds to process what he’s said.

When I do, I blink and barely manage a nod. “Uh…sure?”

He steps forward, the leather of his boots whispering against the grass, and takes the branch from my hand. His cold fingers brush mine.

Argos perks up, trotting over and sitting at Gregory’s feet like he’s found his new best friend.

The vampire pats his head, murmuring something I can’t quite catch. Then he draws his arm back and hurls the stick so far I lose sight of it.

Argos bolts, a brown and gold streak vanishing into the tree line.

I gape. “Okay, wow.”

A smile ghosts Gregory’s lips.

“I like dogs,” he says, as if that explains everything.

My eyes widen.

It’s the most information I’ve received from my low-key guard in the week we’ve spent together.

But I’ll take it.

“Me, too,” I offer, smiling back.

He nods once, genuine warmth flickering behind his stoic exterior.

Argos returns a minute later, triumphant as ever, and drops the stick at Gregory’s feet instead of mine.