Chapter Twenty-One #2
She was prepared to reconcile with Winifred, given their shared history, and she would not speak poorly of Winifred’s husband, but the earl had killed Vincent and Uncle Ethan. That was not something she could easily forget. Even if it had been self-defense.
“How did you know I would come with you?” Felicity asked suddenly.
“I know you, Fel. I could tell the last time we spoke you were struggling.”
Felicity exhaled slowly. After everything she’d done, all the hurtful things she’d said to Winifred, her cousin hadn’t given up on her. She wished she could say the same.
“Do you think…?” Felicity clenched her hands at her sides. “Do you think we could try to be friends again?”
Winifred pulled Felicity into a crushing embrace. “I thought you’d never ask.” Then she pulled back. “Allow me to show you to your room. You’ll want to prepare.”
The tension in Felicity’s shoulders returned. “Prepare for what?”
Winifred blinked. “Why, speaking with Jonathan, of course. He’s waiting in the parlor.”
Felicity paused in the middle of climbing the stairs. “Jonathan is here?”
*
As Felicity approached the parlor, it felt like a fist was closing around her throat. Thanks to her cousin, she was safely out of reach of her family, but she was almost more afraid of how Jonathan would react to her presence.
Less than a week ago, all she’d cared about was revealing the existence of vampires to the public so that she could be one step closer to revenge. Now she knew her exhibit would only cause innocent vampires, like the ones she’d met in the opium den, to suffer. Her quest for vengeance was over.
She opened the door to find Jonathan standing with his back to her. He faced a young woman with large, expressive, blue eyes, and beautiful golden hair falling around her shoulders in perfect ringlets. When she met Felicity’s gaze, she grinned. “Hello! You must be the hunter.”
“Miss Felicity Sorrow,” Jonathan said, without turning. “This is my nest sister, Miss Lucina King.”
“Your ‘nest sister,’” Felicity repeated. Yet she had a different last name than her brother. Then, the obvious answer struck her. Miss King was a vampire. She had likely used many names during her long existence.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss King,” Felicity said.
The woman scrunched her face. “No, no, absolutely not. I haven’t been ‘Miss King’ to anyone in years.” She giggled. “If you are going to live with Winifred, you must call me ‘Lucina’!”
Felicity intended to correct Miss King, to say she was only staying temporarily until she could arrange for another place to live, but instead stuttered, “L-Lucina.”
The vampire clapped her hands. “Much better!” Then she rose onto her toes like a ballerina, bent her knees, and hopped.
At the height of her jump, when her face was at the same level as Felicity’s, she paused.
Instead of falling back to the ground, she floated forward and grasped Felicity’s hands.
“We should be friends. What do you think?”
Felicity’s mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out. She’d witnessed vampires move with impossible speed and form solid objects with their own blood, but this was somehow more shocking. At last, she uttered a strangled sound that Lucina seemed to take as an agreement.
“Excellent!” the young woman said. Then her face changed. Felicity had no words to describe it. One second, Lucina was smiling like a debutante asked to dance for the first time, and the next, the angles of her face sharpened, and she seemed to grow a foot in height.
“Heed my words, hunter,” she said. “If you or your family hurt my brother, I will not rest until all of you have felt the touch of my fangs.” Then she spun in midair and floated away, humming a jaunty tune.
“Please forgive my nest sister’s rudeness,” Jonathan said. “She is excitable.”
Felicity turned her attention back to him.
His black silk shirt was untucked, his hair was disheveled, and there were darker bags around his eyes.
He held a long-stemmed wineglass in his hand, which he twirled.
She thought at first that it contained a Merlot or Pinot noir, but the liquid clung to the edges of the glass in a way wine never would.
He took a sip from the glass. “What do you want, Felicity?”
She squeezed her hands tightly together. “I want you to know I had nothing to do with the ambush.”
“I know.”
“I told my family I—what?” She’d been so confident he would be furious that she’d mentally prepared an entire speech. Now she didn’t know what to say. “You know?”
He drained his glass and then set it on a table. “Of course. It’s not as if I told you where we were going. Your family clearly followed you.” He stuck the index finger of his right hand into the back of his mouth, as if digging something out of his teeth. “Is there something else?”
She rubbed her sweaty palms on the fabric of her skirts. “Y-Yes. I’m supposed to talk to you about mate atrophy.”
“Someone has been whispering in your ear.” He waved a hand. “Thank you for your concern, but you need not bother.”
His manner was so different from the flirtatious, sarcastic Jonathan she’d come to know that she wasn’t sure how to respond. Eventually, though, she found her words. “So, you aren’t going to die?”
“I didn’t say that.” Then he unbuttoned his shirt and spread either side of it wide, revealing splotches of mottled skin married by black, oozing sores.
“Oh, God.” Before she could consider the wisdom of her actions, she ran to him and splayed her fingers over the chilly skin of his chest. “It must hurt terribly.”
He gently laid a hand over hers. “I’ve suffered worse.”
His resignation solidified her resolve. She removed one of her throwing daggers from her bandolier and ran the blade along her wrist, causing blood to well up.
“Felicity…” His voice was so low, it was almost a growl. “What are you doing?”
She lifted the wound to his mouth. “Drink.”
He moved his head away. “You don’t have to do this.”
Despite his words, his irises brightened, and his throat worked.
She pressed her wrist against his mouth. “I want to.”
He uttered an animalistic growl, then began lapping at her cut.
Pleasure washed through her body. Her legs went slack.
He gathered her in his arms.
“I understand if you can never forgive me,” she whispered. “I used you.”
He tilted her head up and touched their noses together. “I don’t mind being used.” He licked his lower lip. “Being the pawn of a hunter was the most fun I’ve had in years.”
She looped her arms around his neck and angled her lips against his.
At that exact moment, the protective layers around her heart cracked open and released a truth she’d been trying desperately to ignore.
She loved him.
She was a hunter in love with a vampire.
And she had no idea what she was going to do about it.