Page 22 of When Bones Whisper
Her heart pounded. She glanced at the shelves, grazing her fingers over where he had bitten her earlier. “Does Nathaniel like to read?”
“These are all his favorites,” he said, waving his arms elaborately to the shelf behind the armchair.
She twisted her body, trying her best to ignore the aching in her bones. Charlotte could tell a lot about a person by what books they read, so she was surprised to discover that the stoic vampire who seemed to have no regard for humanity was aromantic.Or, at the very least, he once was. The books were covered in a thick layer of dust, yet the spines were deeply creased.
Her eyes swept over the titles: Wuthering Heights, The Scarlet Letter, Frankenstein, Hamlet, The Tempest, and several poetry collections. A slow smile curved her lips. Among the fictions, she spotteda small, leather pocketbook. It was the only book that had recently been disturbed. She plucked it out and ran her fingers over the blank cover.
“Which one is your favorite?” Alexander asked, each word flowing into the next.
She lowered her gaze, afraid if she looked him in the eyes for too long that she would invoke his hunger. “I quite enjoyed Wuthering Heights.”
“Ah,” Alexander said with a knowing smile. He leaned against the shelf, his weary gaze dragging over the aged spines. “So you choose forgiveness over retribution.”
Her brows flicked down as she looked at the vampire with a gaze that glistened despite the dim firelight of the room, as if he was creating his own light. “I assume you think me foolish for it,” she stated, threading the pages of the pocketbook under her index finger.
“Not at all,” he stated, arching a light brow. “There comes a time, however, to choose one’s sword over your heart. The witches who are hunting you will not be slain by kindness.”
She inhaled sharply, her lashes flickering slightly. “Speaking of the witches,” she said, treading carefully. “Has Nathaniel said anything about his plans for them?”
“Some, but they are not for me to share. All you need to know is that you are safe here,” he said, giving nothing away. “We will not let them hurt you. You are too precious for that. With you gone, we will forever be without death.”
“So you want to be mortal too?”
“Not particularly, but I also do not want to exist forever as an aimless body traversing space long after this world has burned.”
She swallowed hard, imagining being trapped in nothingness forever. With a tense breath, she opened the pocketbook in the middle, her heart stumbling as she took in the rows of hand-scrawled names, many with the family name Lysanmore. “What is this?”
“Nathaniel’s food diary.”
She blanched. “These are all people.”
“What did you expect?”
She grimaced. “This is revolting. Why does he write them down?”
“Immortalizing a name ensures they are not forgotten. Although he might just enjoy reliving the kill.”
Wonderful. She was indeed living under the roof of two morally insane, homicidal monsters.
“Do you keep a record of your victims, too?” she asked, slowly closing the book between her palms, unable to stomach looking at the word Lysanmore over and again. It looked more like a sick list of trophies. As if he owned them.
“I do not concern myself with tracking my food.”
She swallowed thickly. “I see.”
“You are disgusted,” he said, his smile dropping for the first time since he’d approached her. “We are conditioned to take lives. People die every day. It is no tragedy. Most deserve death.”
Her jaw clenched. She thought about Alice and her mother, and a surge of heat flooded her body. “I don’t believe that.”
“Well, that is your prerogative. Although I am surprised you are squeamish of murder when Nathaniel relayed to me you were intrigued by the idea of becoming a vampire.”
“I—yes I said that, but I would not want to cause others pain,” she blurted. “Not innocent people, anyway.”
Alexander sighed. “Eventually, you would become desensitized to the suffering of others.”
“I hope not,” she said, horrified at the thought of being without feeling or compassion. “Speaking of suffering, where is Nathaniel? Is he sleeping?”
“We are vampires, my dear. Our day is your night. He is somewhere in the manor.”
