Chapter 3

• “I’ll be right down,” I replied, smiling politely.
• She left, and I turned to Dennis. “I’ll be right back.”
• He raised a sarcastic thumbs-up. I shook my head at him, hiding a smile as I left.
• Back downstairs, my father gestured for me to sit when I entered the office.
• “Clara, darling, have a seat.”
• I settled into the same chair as that morning. “What’s this about?”
• “I wanted to inform you that your slave—”
• “Dennis,” I interrupted lightly, smiling as though daring him to contradict me.
• He sighed, correcting himself. “Dennis will begin attending school with you tomorrow. I trust you’ll follow my instructions.”
• “Why?”
• “Because one of the purposes of assigning you a slave was for protection. You have none at school, so he will accompany you. It’s best you’re not completely unguarded.”
• I tilted my head, pretending indifference. “Okay.”
• “Good. And don’t forget—the party begins at six.”
• I rose, nodded, and left the room, though my mind lingered not on the party, but on the vampire upstairs who was now tethered, unwillingly, to my life.
• When I slipped back into my room, Dennis was still standing exactly where I had left him, unmoving beside the bed. His posture was taut, his green eyes glinting with the kind of silent disdain that made my skin prickle.
• I crossed the carpet and sat down on the edge of the mattress, close enough to acknowledge his presence but not so close as to startle him. He looked at me the way a cornered wolf might regard an intruder—measured, waiting for the slightest wrong move.
• “Uh, so…” My voice came out thinner than I’d intended. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m having a birthday party tonight. It should be… somewhat fun. Do you want to attend?”
• His lips curved into something sharp and humorless. “Do I have a choice?”
• I blinked at him. “Well, yeah. That’s why I asked.”
• Dennis tilted his head, studying me with mock incredulity. “Does it look like I care?”
• “…No,” I admitted softly.
• He gave me a glare that should have been enough to shut me up, a look that told me clearly to quit while I was ahead. But I didn’t.
• “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” I offered.
• He rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t stay fixed to the ceiling. “Will you stop?”
• “Stop what?” I asked, honestly confused.
• “Stop playing nice.”
• “I–I wasn’t—”
• “Don’t even try it,” he cut me off sharply. “I’m not falling for it.”
• I swallowed, feeling that sting of rejection. “I was just hoping we could be, you know… like friends.”
• He barked a laugh, dry and mocking. “I just bet you were.”
• Something in my chest tightened. “Is there a problem?”
• “Yes,” he replied flatly.
• “Well, go on then,” I prompted carefully, bracing myself.
• His words struck with the precision of a dagger. “Are you really that dim, or are you just playing stupid? You bought me at a fucking auction and you think I want to be friends with you? Go fuck yourself.”
• The venom in his voice made me flinch.
• “It wasn’t my idea,” I whispered, defensive. “I didn’t want to get a slave—”
• “You’re not convincing me. Try a little harder,” he sneered, every syllable dripping disdain.
• The weight of hopelessness pressed on my shoulders, and I sighed. This wasn’t going the way I’d imagined. He wasn’t bending. If anything, every word I spoke only hardened him further against me.
• “I’m… going to go help set things up for the party,” I muttered, rising to my feet and leaving before I could push him any further.
• Out in the hallway, I let out a long breath, running my hands through my black-dyed hair. What the hell was I going to do with a vampire? He hated me, and truthfully, I couldn’t even blame him.
• I followed the sound of voices to my parents’ bedroom. My mother sat before a vanity, her strawberry-blonde curls catching the glow of the lights as her stylist perfected the waves. She turned at the sound of my footsteps, her heart-shaped face lighting up with a smile.
• “Darling,” she greeted warmly.
• “Hey, Mom.”
• Her gaze swept over me. “You’re not getting ready.”
• “Am I supposed to be?”
• She gestured toward a garment bag lying across the lush canopy bed. “Your dress is right there.”
• I crossed the room and unzipped the bag. My breath caught at the sight of the gown within—a knee-length velvet dress in the deepest black, with a sweetheart neckline and delicate straps. I brushed my fingers over the fabric, soft as a whisper.
• “Oh, wow, Mom. This is gorgeous.”
• “Isn’t it? I thought you’d like it,” she said with a little pleased tilt of her chin.
• “I love it,” I admitted.
• “Then get changed quickly—we only have an hour until the guests arrive.”
• I did as she said, slipping into the dress and pairing it with black pumps that clicked softly against the marble floor as I moved through the house. The velvet hugged me snugly, making me feel both elegant and strangely confined, as though it were armor for the evening to come.
• With time to kill, I drifted into the library, my sanctuary of sorts. The scent of aged paper and leather bindings wrapped around me like a familiar cloak. My eyes skimmed the shelves until they caught on an old hardback: The History of Vampires.
• Curiosity tugged at me, and I plucked the volume free, flipping through the yellowed, brittle pages. The book fell open to a chapter titled Ways to Kill a Vampire.
• I read aloud in a whisper:
• “It is said that a silver bullet that has been blessed will kill a vampire when fired through the heart or into the coffin. In Serbia, there is a belief that a silver coin inscribed with a cross, cut into quarters, then loaded into a musket or shotgun shell, can kill a vampire—”