Chapter Five
The candlelit windows of her manor grew smaller, barely visible through the curtain of rain.
Charlotte watched her manor fade from view as Nathaniel jumped over the iron fence of the garden.
Her heart ached knowing she likely wouldn’t see it again.
Even if she, by some miracle, didn’t die at the vampire’s estate, her home might still be taken by the witches.
“I’m going to jump us onto the roof.” Nathaniel’s low warning resonated in her ears as he angled her body in his arms, so she could wrap her arms around his neck. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she breathed in his dizzying scent and peered behind him.
The air whooshed from her lungs when he climbed up the side of an abandoned textile factory.
Raindrops hit Charlotte’s bare ankles and arms like icy needles, her saturated chemise sticking against her skin.
His arms tightened around her as he jumped from the factory onto the steeply pitched, slated roof of a terraced house.
Below them, the city stretched out in a maze of gray cobblestone streets, the dim glow of gas lamps illuminating groups of people standing outside of bustling pubs.
Nathaniel’s muscles tensed as he careened through the night at such speed that she could barely suck in a deep enough breath.
After a few minutes, he slowed to a normal pace upon reaching a stone gable, the stars above them pinpricks against an impossibly rich, black canvas.
She watched them twinkle on their way down the side of a theater.
He landed them on a cobblestone street, his body absorbing all the shock of the landing.
The sounds of laughter and carriages grinding over dirt followed into the smoggy night.
With a deep breath, she inhaled the mingling scents of coal smoke, horse dung, and the lingering waft of sewage that hung in the air from the River Thames.
A baked potato seller shouted his wares, unaware of the predator with her in his arms, lurking in the shadows just feet away.
Charlotte closed her eyes to the blur of the side streets and alleys when he sped up again.
After several minutes, Nathaniel came to a sudden stop on the uneven pavement.
Slowly, Charlotte cracked open her eyelids.
Beyond the towering, wrought-iron gates in front of them was a long path that wound through gray oak trees with leafless gnarled branches.
Gravel crunched under the vampire’s feet as he walked them inside.
“You okay?” Nathaniel asked.
Craning her neck, she peered up at him, observing the stern look on his face and how his brows were set in a constant furrow, as if the world was always disappointing him.
“That wasn’t terrible,” she said, although the nausea building in her stomach begged otherwise.
Her fingers grazed the tips of his dark locks, and she had the sudden urge to delve her fingers into them.
What was she thinking?
It was that damned vampire charm. Much like other creatures she’d read about, vampires were predators with allure. Like the sirens in her fictions, who would entice sailors with a beautiful song before devouring them.
“Good,” he said gruffly. “Welcome to Sallow Manor.”
She craned her neck to look behind them, while keeping her arms around him.
A stone manor emerged from the dissipating fog, the roofs a silhouette of tall spires and towers.
Her eyes flicked up to the stained-glass windows inlaid in sweeping gables and the carved mouths of gargoyles trickling rainwater.
Nathaniel walked through the heavy layer of fog clinging to the steps leading up to the double doors, before walking inside and up the sweeping staircase.
Shadowy halls adorned with portraits narrowed as he veered right.
At this point, she felt silly for still being in his arms. She could walk from this point, but the break from any physical exertion was nice.
Without warning, he sped up and hurried them down a corridor and into a guest bedroom. He dropped her suddenly, and she flung her arms out, but was relieved to find a soft mattress to break her fall.
“G-good God,” she stammered.
“Nathaniel,” he corrected from the doorway.
With a tsk, she steadied herself by grabbing the edge of the mattress and sat upright. At least he had the decency to give her some space, if only several feet. Although a small part of her missed the closeness, which was insane. Something was definitely wrong with her. Or him. No, definitely him.
A faint scent of lavender and freshly washed linen surrounded her.
She glanced around at the neatly tucked ivory sheets and blanket, and the intricately carved wooden posts of the bed.
The smell was coming from a bouquet of lavender placed on top of a wooden dresser.
She wasn’t sure what she had expected at the home of a vampire, but that was not it.
“You did not vomit,” he said, his voice strained.
Her piercing eyes flicked to his, and she asked, “Does that happen often to the people you abduct?”
“Yes,” he stated, deadpan, “but I did not abduct you.”
Her lashes flickered as she gripped the sheets in her fists. All she could think about was Duke, and the staff she’d left behind to fend for themselves. She squeezed her eyes shut and blew out a long exhale before opening them again. “No, but I also had no choice in coming.”
“I got you out of there before the witches could murder you.”
She tilted her head slightly to the left and pursed her lips. “How altruistic of you.”
“I do not pretend to be a savior, Miss Lovett, but it does not matter. The fact remains you would be dead if it was not for me.”
“Would you like me to thank you?” she asked, swallowing the frustration in her voice.
In truth, she was not really mad at him, but the situation she’d found herself in. Duke was gone. Her home was gone. Even though she’d crossed a terrible line to get her estate back. It was all for nothing. Anger bubbled through her core, searing each emotion in a cloud of resentment.
“No. I only require your compliance,” he said, and she clenched the fabric of her nightdress in a fist. “You must remain here until I have taken care of the Avery witches.”
“Will you allow me to return home after?” she asked, her arms shaking from the rage of losing everything.
“No.”
“So I am to die?” she asked, her voice rising an octave, tears threatening to spill over. “You do want to become mortal, although like I said before, you are wrong about the method of getting there.”
She studied his every move. The way he watched her, carefully, with ancient, hollow eyes, and the muscle feathering in his jaw when he met her stare.
No one wants to live forever,” he said.
“Says the immortal vampire who does not feel pain.”
“What do you know of my suffering?” he asked, the flare of his nostrils betraying the otherwise eerie stillness of the rest of his face and body.
“Nothing, but I know what I would choose given the choice.”
It wasn’t a lie. The first time she’d read about the curse of vampirism in a grimoire, she’d thought to herself that it did not seem to be much of a curse at all.
Yes, living forever was not ideal, and the thought of drinking blood turned her stomach, but she would embrace it all if it meant living without constant pain.
Most people only dreamed of holding that kind of power, the type where they could be strong enough, so they never had to fear another man again.
Her eyes drifted upward when Nathaniel ran his fingers over his neatly trimmed facial hair and stepped closer, a glint flashing in his pupils. “You wish to be like me?”
“Not like you, but a vampire, yes,” she stated, clarifying the distinction. Because if she was cursed, she wouldn’t kill an entire bloodline for her own gain.
“Why?”
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and for the briefest moment, his eyes dropped to her mouth. “It would not be so awful to be invincible.”
“You crave power.”
“I want to be free of pain,” she corrected, rolling her ankles against the bed, hearing the clicking of her bones as she did.
“What kind of pain?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he took another step forward. “Tell me, what is so terrible about being mortal?”
Her chest heaved. The better question was what she would miss about being mortal, other than the promise of an ending. After clearing her throat, she looked into his cold, unblinking eyes. “It depends. What is it you can’t do that mortals can, other than eating regular food and dying?”
“Everything, Miss Lovett.” Longing threaded his stare, making her stomach flip. “You get to experience everything with fresh eyes. Do you know what I would give to taste that novelty again? You get to watch the sunrise every day, unburdened by the shadows I am forced to hide myself in.”
“You cannot go out in the sun?” she asked, surprised that part of the lore was true. “I thought nothing could kill a vampire?”
“It won’t, but the sun weakens us, and I cannot afford to make myself vulnerable to my enemies. While I cannot die, as long as the Avery witches are in the world, they’ll always find imaginative ways to make me suffer. Trust my word, Miss Lovett. You do not want this curse.”
“No,” she said, twisting her mouth. “I get to instead live a life that is pointless and die before it really begins. I would rather be a vampire than have the life I do.”
His fingers flexed at his sides. “I’ve never met someone so eager to be cursed. Do you wish to watch all your loved one's die?”
She hated the judgmental tone in his voice and how quickly his emotions shifted.
“I already have. There is little left for me to lose,” she said.
“Forgive me.” He paused, his expression softening for a flicker of a moment. “I heard about the massacre, how you almost died at your father’s hand.”
Her stomach lurched at the shift in his tone.
“You read the papers,” she said, her mouth twisting. Of course he knew what happened. Everyone did.
“I heard you attended your father’s funeral.”