Chapter Six
Chapter
Six
My gun’s in my bag; everything else is under the bed. But I can take her. Even without a weapon—I just have to let her bite me.
My muscles tense, and I’m about to pounce on her when she takes a step back.
“Just kidding,” Astra says. She holds up her hands, spreading out her fingers, and has the nerve to grin.
I can’t hold my towel tighter than I already am.
A layer of sweat mixes with shower droplets.
Slowly, my short-lived fear is replaced with rage.
“Kidding?” I ask, my voice sharp. “What is wrong with you? You’re a vampire,” I say, itching to grab a weapon.
We stand in silence, staring at each other, until my damp hair causes me to sneeze.
“So are most students here,” she finally says. She turns and grabs a cardigan hanging by her coffin. Before I can escape, she’s wrapping it around me. “Why come to Tynahine if you’re afraid of vampires?”
“I’m not,” I say. Her fingers brush my shoulder as she lets go of the cardigan. It smells of pine and moss. I don’t want to touch anything that’s hers, much less wear it.
Then she has the nerve to smirk. “Sure.”
This can’t be happening.
Just as I thought I was getting her out of my head, she’s here. She’s been here, all this time. No. I take off her cardigan, and pull a nightgown over my head, only letting my towel drop once the skirt has fallen to my mid thighs.
“Did you know I was your roommate?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen you looking at me.”
“I’ve seen you looking at me,” she says, crossing her arms.
“Pretty hard not to,” I say.
“Oh, I know,” she says with a sigh and runs her fingers through her hair. I realise then, horrified, that she thinks I’m complimenting her.
“Because you’re a fucking exhibitionist,” I snap, and Astra’s expression drops, colour rushing to her cheeks.
“What? No, I’m not. You were the one spying on me.”
“You were having sex in the library!” I hiss at her.
“Yeah,” she smirks. “You should try it sometime. It’s exhilarating.”
“Why didn’t you tell me we were roommates?” I ask, ignoring what she just said, and the way she looked at me. My heart’s beating too fast. I can’t do this. I take a deep breath, and instead of handing her back her cardigan, I put it on, shivering. My hair is still damp.
Astra narrows her eyes at me, sitting on her coffin again. “You’re not exactly the most approachable person in the world, are you? Every time you look at me, I think you want to kill me,” she says.
“Well, you’re right about that,” I say. Astra glares at me.
“I don’t know your name,” she says.
“Cassie,” I say, and her frown stays exactly where it is, measuring me.
“I’m Aliz,” she says.
“Yeah, I know,” I say a little too quickly.
“Well, Cassie.” She crosses her legs. “I’ve got good news for you.
There’s a room in Iolairean Hall that you can move into tomorrow morning.
I’ll even help move your stuff, and we can act like this never happened.
” Adrenaline slowly leaves my system as I steel myself.
She wants me to leave? “Your new room is bigger than this one, and I’m positive your new human roommate is lovely. ”
I take her in. Every time I’ve set eyes on her, Astra’s been wearing a perfectly tailored three-piece suit. Tonight, she’s in a billowy cotton shirt, with a matching pair of white shorts, which just about cover her toned thighs.
“Should I help you pack?” she adds. Every new word of her privately educated English adds to my building frustration. Who does she think she is?
“Why should I be the one to go?” I ask.
Her smile, which didn’t seem entirely genuine, tenses. “I’ve stayed in this room for half a decade. I’m not sharing it with a human.”
“You own the hunting lodge. Why aren’t you sleeping there?”
She falters. After clearing her throat, she says: “That’s none of your business.”
I’ve always been the first to look away.
Aliz Astra has made me feel weak again and again.
There’s no chance I’m stepping aside this time.
“Well, I like my room,” I say, running my hand down the curtains protecting my bed.
I feel her cardigan, so soft and warm, getting wet as my hair sits against its fibres.
“But you’re scared of me,” she says.
I snort. I’m a little too sleep-deprived to be thinking straight. I may feel a myriad of emotions towards her. But fear? “Definitely not.”
“You were freaking out just a second ago.”
“You threatened to bite me,” I say.
“That was a friendly vampiric greeting,” she says, swirling her paper cup. “And it wasn’t a lie, I am having dinner.” She takes a loud slurp through her straw, the synthetically red liquid vanishing down her throat.
“I’m not leaving.” I wanted to leave from the moment I saw her coffin. But I will never take orders from a vampire. Much less her.
“You can’t stand me,” she says, exasperated.
“We’ve been able to avoid each other until now,” I remind her, crossing my arms. The bite wound stings against the cardigan.
Something doesn’t quite make sense. Astra has been living here for five years, yet Ife said she lived in the hunting lodge.
“Why does no one know you live in Tynarrich?” I ask.
“Because I have the ninth floor to myself,” she says. “And no one ever takes the maintenance stairs. But like I said, the ninth floor is mine.”
“If you really want me to leave, why not compel me?”
Exasperation turns to shock. “And spend a century in jail?”
I scoff. “Oh, I’m sure the Council will care about their princess breaking the rules.”
“Don’t call me that,” she growls. Her face is red. I’ve struck a nerve. Good.
“You’re probably used to getting everything you want because you’re an Astra,” I say in the softest voice I can muster. I step towards her. The open window allows a breeze in, the cold biting my cheeks. “But you’re not stepping over me, princess.”
“You know nothing about my family,” she says, hand tightening around her paper cup. “So, watch your words, Cassie.”
“Or what?”
The woods rustle outside the hall, the highest branches brushing against the windowsill.
A few droplets of rain hit our desks. Her face, red with rage, remains tight.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a vampire this angry before.
As soon as they realise what I am, their expression shifts to terror.
I wouldn’t mind seeing that fear on Astra’s features.
“Give me back my cardigan,” she finally says. Her voice is small and dry. I peel it off and toss it at her.
“I never asked for it in the first place.”
Her expression changes, and too late, I realise she’s spotted the wound on my arm. “What is that?”
I clasp a hand over the puncture marks. “None of your business,” I say.
She glares at me, jaw tense. Even when she’s angry, she’s beautiful.
She opens her mouth to say something but, instead, just sighs.
She takes the straw out of her cup, removes the lid, and tips it to her lips, letting the last few drops of blood touch her tongue.
My breath hitches at the sight, and I swallow hard.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” she finally whispers, before grabbing the black curtains that split our room and pulling them shut.