Page 20 of The Cruelty of Thorns

The change of subject brought me back onto solid ground; anything to take the focus away from me. “I really don’t know much about its history. I had a scholarship and picked it for its curriculum.”

“It’s quite an interesting story. The man who founded it, Aldous Whitfield, built it for his daughter, who he knew, because of the times, would not be able to gain admission into the larger schools.” He looked down at me. “She, too, was a writer. A poet, actually. Sarah Whitfield.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of her.”

He shook his head. “To be honest, she wasn’t very good.”

“You’ve read her work?”

“There’s a small book of her poems in the town library. I must confess I read it out of curiosity.” He grinned. “Her father must have loved her very much.”

I thought of my own father’s love for my art and how disappointed he was when I gave it up. “A father’s love is a strong bond.”

“Yes, it is,” he replied, his gaze suddenly far away, and I wondered if he was thinking of his own family back in Italy.

We had reached the quad, the entrance to my building straight ahead. “This is me,” I said, looking up at him, suddenly shy again. There were so many questions I wanted to ask him, but I was too nervous to put them into words and I didn’t want to appear desperate. Instead, I simply thanked him for walking me home.

He smiled, sending a tendril of heat through me. “It was my pleasure. I’m sure we will meet again.”

I couldn’t stop the way my pulse skittered at those words. Did he actually want to see me again, or was he just being polite? I pushed the doubt from my mind and nodded to him before turning and walking up the steps. I could feel his eyes upon me, but when I reached the door and turned to look back, he was already gone.

CHAPTER 11

JULIANUS

A bad decision

IT WAS MADNESS, and it could only end in disaster.

I don’t know why I had approached her; was the memory that strong? Was I that starved for companionship?

I had been satisfied with my life. The fleeting trysts with humans, especially those from the college, had been enough to answer my needs for years. Often I could go weeks with only one, taking a small drink each night. Just enough to satisfy my thirst. Unfortunately, I had gotten careless with the latest. Perhaps it was seeing her again that had sharpened my appetite. At any rate, I would have to find a new source.

One thing was for certain. I would not, under any circumstances, visit my hunger on her. I had to stay away, but…

The way her pulse had quickened in my presence was intoxicating.

Myra.

So much like her. As it always did, every thought of that one ended in regret. There were not enough years in eternity to forgive what I had done. Why would I want to revisit that pain?

And yet, here she was again, as if reborn. The same innocence. The same wonder in her eyes, and I was just as helpless to resist it.

Madness.

CHAPTER 12

MYRA

Forced proximity

I TOSSED AND turned all night. When I managed to sleep, my dreams were filled with him–those intense gray eyes, the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand on mine. As soon as my alarm went off in the morning I bolted up, breathless and out of sorts, my nightshirt soaked from sweating.

I grabbed my clothes and sprinted down the hall to the bathroom, where I was the first person in the showers. Kristin came in when I was getting dressed, offering me a sly smirk.

“What’s with that look?” I demanded.

“Oh, nothing. It’s just, you were moaning in your sleep last night.”

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