Read Online Blood Fever: The watchers by Verónica Wolff - Free Book Online
Authors: Verónica Wolff
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nod. “Indeed. My time period. I’d be happy to tutor you privately in this matter, if you so desired.”
Just what I needed. “That sounds great,” I hedged. One didn’t say no to a vampire. Especially this vampire. “I’m still figuring out my fall schedule, though. But once the dust settles…” I petered out.
I felt the slightest shift in Alcántara’s energy—a stiffening, like that of impatience and disappointment. I hadn’t sounded sufficiently enthusiastic.
Stupid.
My brain scrambled to figure out how to make up for it. I altered my tone, trying to sound
very
curious. “You served in the court of King Pedro. I can’t imagine a man nicknamed ‘Pedro the Cruel’ could’ve been a big music fan.”
“Pedro was a man of science,” he said distractedly. “But that is not what I came to discuss.”
Dread settled like a rock in my gut. My cheerful attempt at conversation had come too late—it was bait that might’ve worked for a fish, but Alcántara was a shark.
He stopped on the path to face me. His pale features shimmered in the twilight, like polished marble.
Gooseflesh crawled up my arms. How had I ever thought Alcántara was attractive? I complained about many people on this island—Tracer Otto, Master Dagursson, too many Guidons to name—but at least they didn’t terrify me, not like this.
Another sensation followed quick on its heels—that feeling again, of the hair on my neck standing on end, and a cramping, like hunger, deep in my belly.
Carden.
His voice came from behind, sounding cold and angry. “Preying upon young women again, Hugo?”
My eyes went to him at once. My body wanted to go, too—just the sight of him set my hands trembling. I had to fight not to walk mindlessly to him. He stood tall, holding his arms slightly askew, all coiled power.
Why had he come? He’d said we needed distance, but had he somehow sensed my distress?
Alcántara snarled, “Do you not tire of the self-righteousness, McCloud? I know I do.”
“A man always has a choice, and he has but to choose the right thing,” Carden said with a blithe smile, implying a whole universe of subtext that was beyond me.
His proximity seared through me, quickening my pulse, my breath. My throat was parched…thirsty. I was so thirsty. Too late, I realized that while I was watching Carden, Alcántara was watching me.
He turned to Carden with disgust. “You speak of the right thing. Learned men call such statements ironic.” Alcántara directed his next words to me. “McCloud buys into chivalric nonsense.”
“A man must prove his worth,” Carden said nonchalantly.
“His worth?” Alcántara scoffed. “I find the idea barbaric. I suppose you’d call a man unworthy until he’s done battle.”
“Unworthy?” Carden’s expression was dismissive. “Untested is perhaps the better word.”
Alcántara shuddered. “My father had such brutish notions. The real test is how one wields words, for they can be fiercer than any sword. But that is something you savages don’t understand.” He touched a finger to my chin. “You and I, however…We are of like minds, are we not,
querida
?”
I’d thought Carden might be the jealous type, but never had I imagined this. He looked ready to go ballistic.
I was certain I must’ve looked like a gaping fish as I fumbled to think up a reply that would keep me alive and the two vampires from shredding each other to bits.
But Carden saved me from answering—and if that was chivalry, I was all for it. “Words as swords? Is that what this is?” He smirked. “Some might say words are the tools of cowards who won’t do their own dirty work.”
There were clearly more layers of history in this conversation than I could deal with. I began to back away slowly.
“Stop.” Alcántara halted me in my tracks. He stared at Carden with pure loathing. “Are you quite finished with this vulgar rant?”
But Carden only laughed at him. By the look on Alcántara’s face,
Just what I needed. “That sounds great,” I hedged. One didn’t say no to a vampire. Especially this vampire. “I’m still figuring out my fall schedule, though. But once the dust settles…” I petered out.
I felt the slightest shift in Alcántara’s energy—a stiffening, like that of impatience and disappointment. I hadn’t sounded sufficiently enthusiastic.
Stupid.
My brain scrambled to figure out how to make up for it. I altered my tone, trying to sound
very
curious. “You served in the court of King Pedro. I can’t imagine a man nicknamed ‘Pedro the Cruel’ could’ve been a big music fan.”
“Pedro was a man of science,” he said distractedly. “But that is not what I came to discuss.”
Dread settled like a rock in my gut. My cheerful attempt at conversation had come too late—it was bait that might’ve worked for a fish, but Alcántara was a shark.
He stopped on the path to face me. His pale features shimmered in the twilight, like polished marble.
Gooseflesh crawled up my arms. How had I ever thought Alcántara was attractive? I complained about many people on this island—Tracer Otto, Master Dagursson, too many Guidons to name—but at least they didn’t terrify me, not like this.
Another sensation followed quick on its heels—that feeling again, of the hair on my neck standing on end, and a cramping, like hunger, deep in my belly.
Carden.
His voice came from behind, sounding cold and angry. “Preying upon young women again, Hugo?”
My eyes went to him at once. My body wanted to go, too—just the sight of him set my hands trembling. I had to fight not to walk mindlessly to him. He stood tall, holding his arms slightly askew, all coiled power.
Why had he come? He’d said we needed distance, but had he somehow sensed my distress?
Alcántara snarled, “Do you not tire of the self-righteousness, McCloud? I know I do.”
“A man always has a choice, and he has but to choose the right thing,” Carden said with a blithe smile, implying a whole universe of subtext that was beyond me.
His proximity seared through me, quickening my pulse, my breath. My throat was parched…thirsty. I was so thirsty. Too late, I realized that while I was watching Carden, Alcántara was watching me.
He turned to Carden with disgust. “You speak of the right thing. Learned men call such statements ironic.” Alcántara directed his next words to me. “McCloud buys into chivalric nonsense.”
“A man must prove his worth,” Carden said nonchalantly.
“His worth?” Alcántara scoffed. “I find the idea barbaric. I suppose you’d call a man unworthy until he’s done battle.”
“Unworthy?” Carden’s expression was dismissive. “Untested is perhaps the better word.”
Alcántara shuddered. “My father had such brutish notions. The real test is how one wields words, for they can be fiercer than any sword. But that is something you savages don’t understand.” He touched a finger to my chin. “You and I, however…We are of like minds, are we not,
querida
?”
I’d thought Carden might be the jealous type, but never had I imagined this. He looked ready to go ballistic.
I was certain I must’ve looked like a gaping fish as I fumbled to think up a reply that would keep me alive and the two vampires from shredding each other to bits.
But Carden saved me from answering—and if that was chivalry, I was all for it. “Words as swords? Is that what this is?” He smirked. “Some might say words are the tools of cowards who won’t do their own dirty work.”
There were clearly more layers of history in this conversation than I could deal with. I began to back away slowly.
“Stop.” Alcántara halted me in my tracks. He stared at Carden with pure loathing. “Are you quite finished with this vulgar rant?”
But Carden only laughed at him. By the look on Alcántara’s face,
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