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Stars explode across my vision from the impact, and I whimper. Blood runs down my arm and coats the front of my shirt. I curse Cassius for cutting too deep.
My heart hammers against my chest. There’s no way I can protect myself unless I wrap my arm. With my good hand, I bite the edge of my shirt between my teeth and hold it, angling the dagger to slice a length of material off.
I should wear longer shirts or start carrying bandages. Even though it’s not funny, I nearly laugh. But that momentary lapse is short lived by the stab of pain radiating along my arm as I struggle to wrap it.
“Lawrence,” Alaric’s husky voice calls from the bottom of the stairs.
I raise my head and meet his steely gaze.
No. I’m not ready.
It feels like an eternity as we take each other in. Then in the span of a heartbeat, Alaric lifts off the ground, and slams me hard against the wall. He watches me with a cold, unfamiliar expression as I claw uselessly at his wrist with one hand.
Slowly, Alaric lowers me but keeps his hand around my throat.
“Please,” I gasp.
This is his face, but the Alaric I know is not there behind the familiar sapphire eyes ringed with violent, glowing red. His lip curls with pure hate.
Frustration, pain, and desperation burn the backs of my eyes until everything is a blur. One blink and heavy tears slide down my cheeks as Alaric looks on in rapt interest.
Abruptly, his hand loosens, sliding down my neck, and taking hold of the front of my shirt, he drags me into the training room, throwing me to the floor. I fall awkwardly, curling into myself to protect my injured arm. The door slams with a resounding crack.
Alaric stalks toward me with slow, deliberate steps. I struggle to stand on unsteady legs. Spots form dancing before my eyes, blotting out parts of my vision.
How can I survive this if Alaric kills me with his bare hands?This was a terrible plan.
I back up until I bump into a wall. Trapped. Alaric closes the distance with blinding speed, and tangles a hand in my hair, wrenching my neck to the side. The sharp movement rips the air from my lungs.
“Please… Alaric. I know you don’t want to do this,” I whimper.
The fingers of his other hand glide down the back of my arm and entwine with my own. He brings my arm up and presses the back of my hand to the wall. Blood continues to flow in thick rivulets. His eyes glitter with fury and desire.
My entire body trembles, limbs turning ice cold before going numb.
Alaric watches the blood run down my arm as if hypnotized. Then slowly, he settles his face in the crook of my neck. His lips gently press against the patch of scarred skin for a long moment.
It almost feels as if he brushes the barest kiss against my throat a second before sinking his fangs in.
Expecting blinding pain and fire as he rips into my flesh, it surprises me how kind the bite is. Even with so much anger radiating from him and distorting his face, there is nothing beyond a small ache.
It’s not his anger.
Alaric drinks, and with each pull of blood, my strength fades until I can no longer stand on my own. He holds me up, pinning me to the wall with his body. A sob catches in my throat.
I was so close… and now, he will never be free.
He draws back, confusion wrinkling his brow as the effects of the nightshade finally take hold. Stumbling back, Alaric’s heel catches on the uneven floor sending him crashing down.
I fall to my knees at his side. Murder and rage shine in his eyes, but none of it is his.
How cruel to force him to kill me with his own hand.
I shoulder him, throwing my weight into it and roll him onto his back. I end up with my face pressed against his chest. My hands and arms are clumsy, refusing to obey. I can only imagine how we look—struggling and both unable to fight.
Clutching my injured arm to my chest, I straddle him and I reach into my pocket for the vial. Alaric growls, fight against the effects of the nightshade.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, panting.
