Vampire's Kiss (9 page)

Alrighty, then.
It appeared Ronan wasn’t the only one on this island with the power to control the impulses of others.

Except likening Ronan to Alcántara would’ve been ridiculous—talk about comparing apples to oranges. Ronan was
Ronan
, and I’d come to feel a sort of odd affection for him that I mostly tried not to think about.

Whereas
Alcántara
…

Hugo Alcántara was a centuries-old, undead, bloodthirsty creature of the night that I’d do best to fear above all things—to put it mildly.

The disturbing moment ended when he spied my split lip. His eyes narrowed in speculation. “I heard something had come to pass. A skirmish with an older Guidon.”

My belly went queasy. He’d sure gotten
that
news quickly. I braced for the punishment that’d come at any moment.

But he read the panic in my eyes as something else, and he clarified. “There is no concealing such news. All who are Vampire know when, and why, blood has been spilled.” His gaze drifted to my bloody palms and he stiffened. “But I see this skirmish was not…insignificant.”

I fisted my mangled hands. There was enough vampire blood in my system that the healing had begun already, and by that point the stickiness was annoying me more than the pain. “I’ve had worse.”

Actually, if I had a problem, it was where Dagursson had split my lip—it was only a tiny gash, but bothersome, like a paper cut. I pressed my lips together, but it drew Alcántara’s eyes to my mouth in a way that made me intensely uncomfortable.

“Regardless, I beg you to come.” He took several steps backward, retreating into the library. Naturally, he didn’t trip or stumble. Instead, he was all regal grace, sweeping his arm in welcome as if he were the man of the house and I’d come calling. “I will tend to you.”

I went on high alert. Why was he being so gracious? I’d come because I was in trouble, and here he was, looking ready to offer me a spot of tea. I followed him inside, and wariness made my movements stiff and hesitant.

He reached past me to shut the door, his body very nearly brushing mine. I locked my knees to keep from trembling. What kind of punishments would I endure behind a
closed door
?

“Are you nervous, Acari Drew? Or are you merely in pain?” Alcántara stepped back and scanned my body, lingering overlong on the bloody bits. There were just a few—and really, I’d had much worse—so why did it feel as if I were standing there in a string bikini?

Nerves or pain?
How to answer that one? With the truth, I thought. Alcántara was too smart for anything but some version of it. I confessed, “I’m not certain how to answer that.”

He startled me by laughing. “A lovely reply. As usual, I find your verve refreshing.” His grin faded as he studied me. “Nerves,” he said. “Nerves, not pain, have you suffering so. I remember enough of what it was to be human to imagine that, if you were in pain, your jaw would be tighter. Speaking through gritted teeth, yes?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“You are nervous that you’re in trouble?”

I gave the merest nod, hoping desperately that I wasn’t making any missteps on this very strange conversational minefield. Then again, maybe this
was
my punishment. I’d get the crap scared out of me until my heart failed from the stress.

“Come then, and I will take your mind from these nerves.” The overstuffed sofa creaked as he sat. The leather was the color of burgundy…
or blood.
He casually perched an arm up along the back edge. “I was reading when you arrived.”

I assessed the scene, which didn’t take long, seeing as I spent as much free time as possible in this very room. There was dark furniture, a fire blazing in the hearth, and towering bookshelves all around.

My choices were to remain standing, to sit on one of the armchairs facing him, or, the most unsettling option of all, to simply sit
next
to Alcántara on the couch.

He patted the cushion beside him. “Come, come. We have much to discuss.”

I swallowed hard. Next to him on the couch, then.

“I must examine you. But first, something to take your mind from your troubles.” The glint in his eyes sent chills up my spine.

I had no idea what he could possibly bust out that’d take
my mind off
this
freaky scenario, because I sure seemed to be facing some pretty deep
troubles
.

The leather creaked as I sat, sounding overloud in the room. I wondered what my punishment was going to be, and when it would begin. By that point, I just wanted to get it over with—all my speculation was shaping up to be quite its own torture. I was stiff and chilled, my body in a state of panicked readiness.

But I’d learned that vampires adored their theatrics, and so I forced myself to roll with it. I tried to get comfortable and feel normal, adjusting my tunic and leggings, and willed the fireplace to warm me.

Alcántara surprised me then. Instead of probing my wounds, or beheading me, or whatever creative gruesomeness he had scheduled, he simply ignored me and reached for a book.

Or rather, it was something that
had
been a book once. Now it was ancient and fragile, kept cushioned on white flannel and cradled in a tray. It looked as if it’d been buried in dirt for the past several hundred years. And who knew? Maybe it had.

“This is what I was reading when I sensed your arrival.”

Okayyy.
Was it a handbook of arcane tortures for unruly girls? Because surely the disciplining would begin at any moment.

He lovingly turned a page, and it crackled like the peel of an onion. “I think perhaps this is something you will appreciate.”

Here it comes.
I couldn’t fight the curiosity—I had to glimpse what was in store. Adrenaline dumped into my veins, making
me jittery and chilled, but still I managed to inch ever so slightly closer to him on the couch.
Must know.
“What is it?”

“It is a rare text, written by one of my favorite mathematicians.”

Huh?
Total disconnect. I gaped, trying to adjust what I’d thought would happen with the reality. “Mathematician?”

He paused for a subtle dramatic flourish. “Archimedes.”

“Wait, what?” Archimedes was born in something-crazy BC—the book would’ve been as
old
as dirt, not buried in it. I sucked in a breath, the inconceivable truth blotting all other thoughts from my head. “Holy cr…crow. That’s older than Christ.”

His black eyes pinned me in my seat. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly and confiding. “I knew that, of all the others,
you
would most understand.”

Ru-roh.
I inched back to my original spot on the couch, chilled again to my bones. That had sounded really personal, and it seemed to me
personal
was a thing one did not get with vampires. “Y-yes.” I did a quick scan of my memory banks. “The text must be twenty-two hundred years old.”

Was
that
why he’d taken an interest in me? Because I could chat math facts with him?

“Older than that,” he said triumphantly. “I have discerned other writings on these pages that are more ancient still.”

I
almost
scooted closer on the couch—the nerd in me couldn’t help but be fascinated. My mind raced with the possibilities—what else might be written on pages more ancient than the Bible?

But then my heart skipped a beat as I remembered why I was there.

I was in trouble, and I had no clue when the repercussions would begin.

He placed the tray down with a
clack
, startling me from my reverie. “Enough of my interests.” Adjusting his body, he faced me on the couch and reached his arms toward me. I could only stare dumbly. “Your hands, Acari Drew. I told you I would attend to your hands.”

Oh crap.

I held my right hand out, chagrined to watch it tremble ever so slightly. I could hope he wouldn’t notice my fear, but I knew vampires didn’t miss a thing.

He edged closer and took my hand in his.

Here we go.

I
forced myself to focus on what Alcántara was saying—something about ancient Greece—rather than on the fact that he held a part of my body cradled in his cool palms.

It took a conscious effort not to ball my hand into a fist. Hand injuries were tough—the wounds were trying to clot, but they kept splitting back open, and even though I’d washed them at the dorm, they still oozed dark red. All that smeared blood made me feel exposed.

He traced his finger along my palm—
in
the path of the deepest cut. A creepy feeling wiggled up my spine, both prickly and warm at the same time.

If Alcántara could tell how terrified I was, he didn’t let on. Instead, he just kept talking, his voice a soothing, Spanish-accented lull. “…And Archimedes was the greatest of them,” he was saying.

Greatest of…mathematicians, Greeks, what?
I tried to tune
in, holding on to his words as a way to normalize the situation—to stop that disturbing cold-hot that was spreading its way deep into my belly. I forced a stiff nod. “Yes, Archimedes. Ahead of his time.”

“Would that I could have known him.”

Ohmygod.
Alcántara was leaning in. Dipping his head closer to my hand, like a dog about to sniff. Or lick.
Oh God.

His lips parted.

Oh please no
, a little girl voice keened deep inside me. He wouldn’t
lick
my palm, would he? I wanted to pull away, but the vampire’s cool grip tensed ever so slightly.

“Are you familiar with his work?” His breath was hot on my broken skin. His eyes, focused on my bloody cuts. Was he going to
feed
from me? My belly roiled with terror and revulsion.

No he won’t. No he won’t. No he won’t.
I tried to will him to keep his mouth away from my open skin. My heart was pounding so hard now, I felt the pulse throbbing in my head.

He’d said something—I needed to reply. My mind raced, desperate to remember some ancient Greek fun fact. Because that mouth was closing in.

“Yes,” I blurted, more loudly than I’d intended. “Archimedes. He said he could lift the earth. If he had a long enough pole. Or a lever, I mean. If he had a place to stand and a
lever
, he could move it. The earth.”

Though Alcántara’s head was tilted down, I could read how my comment had pleased him, despite—or maybe because of—my nervous babbling. He chuckled, and I felt the puffs of breath on my skin. “So he did.”

“But he was killed,” I said, dredging everything I could
from memory. At the word
killed
, I gave an instinctive tug to my hand, but the vampire held on tight.

“So he was.” Alcántara traced the lines on my hand, smearing faint trails of blood across my palm. He brightened, remembering the story. “They say Archimedes spoke his last words to an attacking Roman soldier.
‘Do not disturb my circles!
’
” He laughed, and gooseflesh crept along my arms. “Human creatures are so delightfully banal.”

I tried to imagine what else he might’ve thought about us humans. Delightfully banal…
but loads of fun to kill.
Banal…
but for the musky aftertaste.
Because the other shoe was going to drop, and soon. This punishment was shaping up to be a doozy.

But still, the vampire didn’t release my hand. Instead, he swept his cool finger along my palm again, harder this time, splitting the cut back open until I flinched from the pain. He held his finger up to catch the firelight. His skin was stained a pale pink.

I watched, horrified, as he brought it to his lips. And then his eyes caught and held mine as he sucked his finger slowly into his mouth.

Crapcrapcrap.
There was
licking
happening. He pulled his finger from his mouth with a dull suck.

What else would he want to taste? Frantic, I did a quick mental inventory of all my other bloody parts. It was
not
good. I needed something,
anything
, to talk about.