Page 18 of Grave Expectations

CHAPTER EIGHT

Alaric still sat on the couch, regarding the door with a furrowed brow.

“I’m not sure if that was helpful or more confusing,” Roz said.

“She is an interesting woman,” Alaric said. Roz sat back down on the couch, turning to face Alaric.

“She’s right, I should have gone to her first. She knows more about fringe magic than my mom does.” Roz sighed.

“Why did you ask about tethering influencing emotions?” Alaric asked. Roz’s cheeks flushed and she averted her gaze.

“I just wanted to make sure that by tethering you I wasn’t…altering anything,” she said evasively.

“Like what?” Alaric pressed.

“You said you enjoyed my company, and I feel like we’re old friends. I wanted to make sure that wasn’t being influenced by anything,” Roz explained, digging at a hangnail on her pinky.

“And you suspect my affection for you is because of this tether, and therefore not real?” Alaric asked.

“I just wanted to be sure. We don’t understand this curse, and I don’t want to make it worse. If the blood kept you here against your will, I’d never forgive myself. If the tethering altered either of our emotions, that could be catastrophic. I just don’t want to stand between you and happiness,” Roz said, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. Her brain was slower to catch up—he’d said my affection for you. That was probably some old-timey saying for friendship.

“I am not so easily influenced,” Alaric said with a shrug. “My feelings are as they were before you tethered me. I am only all the more grateful that you’ve given me the ability to speak to someone.”

“Just me,” Roz added.

“For now,” Alaric remarked.

“Now what?” Roz asked, gazing over the useless pile of books.

“An experiment,” Alaric suggested, sitting upright.

“Are you sure? What if…”

“What if I die?” Alaric asked wryly.

“There are things worse than death,” Roz said.

“Oh, I know. I’ve experienced it these last three hundred years. Humor me. We’ll start small, a drop of blood is all,” Alaric suggested.

Roz nodded and went to the kitchen, digging around until she found a safety pin. She brought it back into the living room and lit one of her candles, holding the metal to the flame until it burned hot. “I used to pierce my friends’ ears in French class,” she remarked with a grin. She held the pin until it was cool and pressed the tip into the pad of her thumb. A small bead of blood appeared.

“What next? Do I feed it to you?” she asked.

“As much as I would enjoy that, I am no vampire,” Alaric remarked. He held out his hand to her, palm up. Roz squeezed her thumb until two droplets of blood dripped onto his palm.

The first went through him and onto her couch.

The second stayed in his palm, suspended in his translucent hand. They both stared at it, Roz’s wide eyes meeting the smug look on Alaric’s face. “Well,” he said. “Have you fallen irrevocably in love with me?”

“What? No!” Roz protested.

“Pity,” he said. “And here I was hoping to be proven wrong.”

Another drop of blood fell from Roz’s thumb onto his palm. Roz reached out to tentatively touch Alaric’s leg, her fingers brushing against the thick material of his robe. “Oh good,” she said airily. “I was worried I’d have to do that to all your body parts.”

“I’d prioritize one or two, in that case,” he said.

“Be serious,” Roz chastised.