Chapter 33 The Killer
The Killer
I WATCH FROM THE EDGE of the woods as Gideon hurries across the estate with Arabella in his arms. He looks a mess, his legs wobbling and his skin blistering from sun exposure. But thanks to the ancient blood in his veins – my ancient blood – he has some immunity.
She looks like an angel, perfectly still beneath the umbrella he holds for her, her elegant features calm and serene. Her neck is bare, but I know the necklace must be close. I can sense it.
My Arabella wouldn’t risk that magic falling into the wrong hands.
My own dreamless sleep presses against my eyelids as I watch her, limp and vulnerable, in Gideon Blake’s arms. She may be proud of her ability to withstand the sun longer than most, but both he and I surpass her. It was a must, given what I have had to endure.
I reach down to touch the tear in the fabric of my sleeve. Tsk, tsk, that dirty wolf got far too close. Usually, I can evade it, but in my haste to be with Arabella on her Bloodeve, I’d forgotten about the full moon.
My skin has almost healed. It’s taken all night. Disgusting creature. One day soon – once the necklace is mine again – I’ll have that she-wolf skinned and made into a fine fur coat.
But for now, the wolf is a problem. She’s tasted me. She has my scent. I won’t be able to hide in the woods any longer. I need a new tactic.
I think of the little studio in the village where Arabella and Gideon plan to dance. I think of their names scrawled on the practice schedule that my Thrall handed to me. I think of the three ways to kill a vampire, and which one will taste the sweetest.
My little gifts have set the stage. It’s time for Arabella to obey. I need to take back what’s mine.