William Read Free Page A

chest and throw itself at his feet.

CHAPTER THREE
    The heavy drapes were drawn in the parlor,
blocking out the morning light, and a lone candle flickered on one
of the side tables. It did little to illuminate the tall figure
standing near the cold fireplace with one gloved hand on the
mantle. Only his black hair picked up a shimmer of light, leaving
the rest in shadow.
    I stood in the doorway, and so help me, I
felt goose pimples rise all over my limbs. My thoughts were a
hectic mix of giddiness, longing, and—somewhere way in the back—a
hint of dread. "Merrick," I said, and cursed myself for managing to
betray every one of those feelings in two syllables. Damn it all,
why could I not be mysterious for once?
    "Good morning, William."
    The sound of my name on his lips made my soul
bloom as a matter of reflex, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that
his velvety voice now held a weary hush. My eyes wandered intently
over his broad shoulders, following the length of his right arm
along the mantle, making out the shape of his gloved fingers
against the faintly gleaming wood. "Good morning."
    "Please sit down."
    I did as I was asked, reaching to light the
lamp beside my chair. Despite how badly I’d longed for his return,
a worried knot formed quickly in my stomach. There was no way to
read his stillness, his silence—what he had returned to say, or do.
I knew only that he was still braced against the inevitable, for he
had come to see me in the morning, the time when vampires lost
their thirst.
    Several moments passed as I waited for
Merrick to turn, but the stillness, the silence, stretched on. It
swelled in the room like a raindrop on a windowpane, poised to
streak down the glass.
    At last, he spoke. "Have you changed your
mind?"
    The question threw me, and I frowned.
    Change my mind? Did he really think that
possible? Surely he did not expect me to lift my shoulders and say, Well, now that you mention it, I think I would rather you just
go and set yourself on fire. And don’t worry about Theo, I’m sure
he’ll let the whole thing go. Change my mind, indeed.
    Without realizing it, I had buried my face in
my hand instead of answering. Now he turned to me at last, and I
straightened in alarm.
    Merrick was not an old man by the looks of
him. Yes, he was old, two-and-a-half centuries old. But he had not
aged since his early twenties, when he himself had been turned. And
his face, Lord Almighty! He was handsome as the Devil, a
mesmerizing portrait of masculine beauty, with straight, noble
features and penetrating amber eyes that shined beautifully in the
light. Only in darkness did they reveal their true incandescence, a
subtle yet unmistakable glow, as though they were lit from
somewhere deep within.
    Those eyes burned into mine now, but there
were dark shadows beneath them, and Merrick's handsome face was
tired and drawn. I had only seen him look that way when he had gone
days without drinking. Thirst aged him, sprinkling fine lines at
the corners of his eyes and dulling the luster of his skin.
    "Have you not been drinking?" I asked, more
sharply than I intended.
    "Have you changed your mind, William?"
    So he really expected an answer, did he? I
rubbed my eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. "No," I said plainly.
"And I don't know what you mean by asking." That sounded rather
irritable, and I rose to my feet with a sigh. "Merrick, I hope you
mean to stay."
    "I'm afraid I cannot."
    “You cannot,” I repeated blankly, and a flash
of frustration caught me off guard. I looked away. The long hours
and drinking had done me no favors; my feelings were all
higgledy-piggledy, and his unwelcome response caused a foreboding
tingling in my eyes.
    "I must return to the cottage for a
time."
    "To the cottage?" I frowned in confusion, for
I had assumed that was where he'd just come from. "But where have
you been?"
    "There was a typhoid outbreak in Brooklyn.
I’ve been treating the people there."
    "Oh." He might have told me. "I am...sorry