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“Her death belongs to me,” he snarls down at her.
Alaric drags me behind him, away from Elise. Away from her body. My mind is still struggling to catch up with what just happened when we finally stop. I don’t know where he’s taken me, but I do know I should be, at least, a little afraid of him. Killing Elise is entirely unlike him.
Again, I find myself cornered. We are more isolated than before. This is a remote corner of the castle, so it’s unlikely anyone will pass by. And if they did, they probably wouldn’t notice us within the shadows.
“What are you doing?” I ask, hating how breathless I sound.
My mind is whirling. I press my palms against Alaric’s chest to keep him from coming closer, but he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head. A shudder rolls through my body.
“Slayer,” he growls more than speaks the word, ignoring my question.
The way he spits the title is a knife to the gut. Though I claim it only to use as a weapon, I hate it. It sounds intentional… spiteful… heartless. As though I want to rid the world of vampires. That isn’t who I am. Once, it might have been. Once, it was what I thought I wanted. But not for a long time.
Alaric showed me the world for what it is, through eyes not colored by fears. Not all monsters are beasts of nightmares. Some hide behind friendly faces waiting for their prey to lower their guard. Oftentimes, the worst monster of all wears the most beautiful mask.
But for Alaric, I was his monster, and instead of cruelty, he showed me love and mercy.
I never set out to kill any of them—except for the one who least deserved it, and there will never be a day when I don’t regret that. The others were self-defense. It had nothing to do with them being vampires. They would have kept hunting me as long as I lived.
“Tell me,slayer, how is it you came to earn such an infamous title and avoid punishment?”
I don’t know if he actually wants me to answer.
“Did you kill Rosalie?” he demands.
I squeeze my eyes shut, realizing just how much Elizabeth stole from him. Not just me or our history, but everything.
“Yes,” I admit softly.
“Why?” There is so much pain in that small word.
There is no reason or excuse I can give him, so I offer the only thing I can. “I am sorry, Alaric.”
He winces at his name.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say. The only words my mouth is capable of forming. And I can’t stop it.
I want to tell him how I would give anything to undo my actions that day. That I didn’t know I would hurt him. I didn’t know I would love him so deeply. But every time I open my mouth, the same two words fall from my lips. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t stop until he releases my wrists and turns his face away. My breaths come in broken gasps. It’s then I realize my cheeks are streaked with trails of salty tears. Using my sleeves, I swipe at my face while attempting to regain my composure.
He shifts, and though he’s closer than before, his chest pressed to mine and his demeanor more relaxed. All trace of threat has fled him. “Slayer.” He scoffs. “You not much of one.”
I shake my head. “I’m not,” I agree.
“How many vampires have you killed? More than three?” When I don’t answer, he says, “That is what I thought.”
“The others all wanted me dead.” The words are out before I can stop them. “I suppose you will say I should have let them?”
I am not entirely sure why I ask that. Maybe it’s because I’m angry with myself. Maybe I don’t want him to think I’m horrible, though he more than anyone has reason to. Maybe it’s both.
He takes no offense to my harsh tone or to even notice it. Alaric seems to debate silently for a moment, treating it as a genuine question. His gaze settles on mine, clear and sharp. “No,” he responds simply.
That is… unexpected. I thought he might have said yes or nothing at all.
“Do you think your mortal tears will save you from the consequences of your crimes?”
“No.”
