Page 34 of The Guardian's Curse

“No, thank you, Miss York,” he murmured.

“Alistair?”

“Yes?”

“If I get to call you Alistair, you should call me Shoshanna,” she said.

“Shoshanna.” It was music on his tongue. Her smile widened.

“I like that much better.”

“As do I,” he replied. “Good night.”

She tilted her head in a little bow. “Good night.”

Her light voice hummed as she walked away, retiring to her bedroom. He listened for her to go to sleep, her breathing slowing as the cat snuggled up to her. He left the piano to approach Lucia, his mind fluttering with possibilities.

“Lucia,” he greeted. “This witch wishes to break your curse. All our efforts have been fruitless, but what harm is there in trying? If there is even a tiny chance to free you, then I would let her try.”

He did not dare speak aloud Shoshanna’s bold claim to break his curse. If he said it, he might curse it. And it wasn’t as if she would succeed. But still...the mere thought of it made his heart soar.

* * *

The next evening, he rose after nine in the evening to find Shoshanna working in the sitting room again. Several large sheets of paper were taped together to create one massive drawing space. An intricate geometric design was taking shape under Shoshanna’s careful hand. She was an artist, creating a masterpiece he couldn’t begin to comprehend. Her competence was clear in each confident, precise stroke. Watching her was like watching a prima ballerina gliding over the stage.

Finally, he knocked gently on the door frame. “Oh my God,” she blurted. “I must have silenced the alarm. Let me get your dinner. Breakfast? Which one is it?”

“Technically, breakfast,” he said. “I’ll get it.”

“No, no,” she muttered, tossing her pencils aside as she scrambled past him. With a little flicker of amusement, he rushed past her. He was at the refrigerator by the time she arrived in the kitchen. Her brow furrowed in a comical frown. “Vampire running is cheating.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, taking out the bag. He squeezed it into a glass.

“I should...” She sighed and gestured broadly at the glass. “I’m supposed to do that for you.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “Go back to your work. You were clearly engaged. I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

But she lingered, pulling out the double boiler and holding out her hand. “You can’t drink it cold.”

“I’m a grown man. I can drink whatever I like,” he said dryly. But her stern look made him hand over the glass, and he watched with amusement as she dumped it into the pot. He wasn’t sure if she was doing it because she needed the satisfaction of performing a task well, or if she wanted to care for him personally.

Both of them were endearing, and so he ignored his clawing hunger and watched her fussing over the pot. When her back was turned, he hastily squeezed the remaining drops from the bag into his mouth before she caught him. The taste of it turned his stomach but sanded the edges off his hunger.

“Do you know how long it might take for them to deal with this Casteron mess?” she asked quietly.

“You are safe here,” he said. “Why are you so concerned?”

“Because I can’t stay here forever,” she said hotly. “And I got a call from my boss at the coffee shop this morning. She said a man came into the shop last night asking about me. It had to be Elliott. I’m afraid he’s going to start hurting people to get to me.”

“But you are safe here,” he said.

She threw up her hands in frustration. “Why do I have to be the one to give up my normal life because he’s being a psycho? I didn’t do anything wrong, but I’m stuck here and he’s out there doing whatever he wants.”

“I’m sorry you are stuck here,” he said.

Hurt filled her eyes. “I don’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. This has been—”

“I understand,” he said abruptly. “Vampire politics are complicated. The Casteron are displaying poor etiquette by being in our territory, but they’ve not attacked our people directly. Until they directly act against us, it’s in Eduardo’s best interest to maintain peace.”

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