Page 25 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

“You killed him. And now I’m wanted as a suspect in his murder.”

“An inconvenience, yes.” The way he looked at me with those handsome, otherworldly features said everything. I was utterly insignificant to him. A fly he wanted to swat away.

“Are you kidding me?” My teeth ground together. I stepped closer to his desk. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say, you heartless asshole? You could have—I don’t know—used some kind of vampire magic on him or something. You didn’t have to kill him.”

“What is it, Miss Shaw, you wish to hear?”

I gaped at him. “I don’t know. An apology might be a good place to start. My credibility is at stake. I’m enrolled in BU’s Ph.D program in the fall⁠—“

I cut off.

Oh, my God. Oh my fucking God. My Ph.D program.

This was going to ruin everything and I felt powerless to do anything.

The air whooshed out of my lungs, taking all my strength with it. My neck throbbed. I placed a hand over the bandage, as if to sooth the pain.

Laurent’s eyes flicked over me. “Return to your rooms, Miss Shaw.”

“What? No! This isn’t… You expect me to just…?”

Just…what? What did I honestly think would happen by confronting him? Laurent was a vampire. Not just any vampire. He was the head of House Sarkas.

My stomach dropped like a stone.

Laurent stared at me, his expression unyielding. I opened my mouth again, then closed it. Just this morning, I’d been brutally attacked. I’d had my throat ripped open. I’d seen Laurent rip the heart out of a vampire. Rip her fucking heart out. Shove his hand in and pull it free like he was gardening. He’d done it so casually, so effortlessly…

Heat crept up my neck and I began to back away.

“Good night, Miss Shaw.” His voice was low.

I turned on my heel and fled.

Back in my room, I shut off the TV and began to pace. An abrupt knock cut me short. My muscles tensed, coiled tight, ready to spring. “Who is it?”

“Vittorio, Miss Shaw.”

“Oh. Uhm. Come in?”

There was a hesitation, then the door swung open, revealing the driver—or whatever he actually was. Vittorio swept into the room, his lean frame dressed in a pair of slacks, black button-down rolled to his elbows, and sleek dress shoes. He was striking. His nose, I noticed, was slightly bent.

“Don’t vampires have healing abilities?” I blurted, then snapped my mouth shut.

“Indeed. We do.” He hesitated and then, “Your dinner, Miss Shaw. If you are hungry?” He glanced about, then strode to the table and set down the tray. I smelled it almost immediately, the aroma filling the room. My eyes took in the silver platter cover, glass of wine, and a basket covered with a white cloth. My stomach decided this was its cue, rumbling loudly. When was the last time I’d eaten? The cucumber sandwiches. “Was that you?”

“Pardon, Miss Shaw?” He took another step back, staring at me. I discerned nothing from his neutral expression.

“The tea sandwiches,” I clarified. He hesitated, then nodded. “And this?” He nodded again, placing his hands casually behind his back. “They were… They were really good, actually.”

“Excellent.”

“And this?” I gestured toward the tray.

“Seared salmon in a beurre blanc, wild rice, and yellow squash.” My mouth fell open. “If it is not to your liking, I would be happy to prepare⁠—“

“No! I mean, it sounds delicious. I just—I didn’t think—do vampires eat normal food?”

“Indeed, Miss Shaw. But our tastes are quite refined, as you can imagine.”