Page 10 of Soul of A Vampire

“It’s the library.” I step to the double doors and open them.

Sun streams through the tall windows on two walls. Books stretch from floor to high ceiling. A spiral staircase leads to a catwalk for reaching higher tomes. A large desk, piled with papers I’ve yet to go through, fills the center of the room. Besides the chair behind the desk, there are two sitting in front. To the left is a grouping of soft chairs for conversation or reading. Then, to the right, a chess board with two chairs awaits someone to knock the dust away and engage in a match.

“This is remarkable.” She stares up at all the books with an open mouth.

“I’m glad you like it.” It’s my favorite place in the world, and her approval eases something wild inside me.

“I think you’re ready for me to go, but you’ve given me nothing to write about.” She finally looks at me.

I step closer until she has to look up to meet my stare. “What kind of story do you want, Britta? There are no children here. We’ve all grown up. You already know that no one came looking for us all those years ago. What do you want?”

Reaching up, she pushes my hair from my eye. “I want to know why no one came looking for six little boys who disappeared. I want to know what makes you look so sad. Even if I don’t write it, I can’t help wanting to know.”

As her fingers skim the side of my face, I grip her wrist, pull it to my nose, and breathe her in before pressing my lips to her pulse. “Those are difficult answers, and I fear once you know, you’ll run.”

“Because you’re a monster?” Her breath quickens, and her pupils dilate.

I trace my tongue across her wrist and long to taste her. My cock pulses to life once again. “I am a monster. Harming you is not possible, though. I would never hurt you.”

“But you could?” She stiffens, and the tone of her voice gets slightly higher. The arousal of a moment earlier shifts to fear.

Releasing her wrist, I touch her cheek. “Did someone harm you, Britta?”

“My life isn’t your business.” Her voice shakes, and she steps back.

“Yet you expect me to tell you about myself and my brothers?”

She draws a long breath that pushes her breasts to the edge of her flimsy blouse. Crossing her arms, she narrows her gaze. “Are you saying that if I share my story, you’ll tell me how you’re a monster and everything about Scrim Hall?”

Is that what I’m saying? Is it my place to tell a reporter about this house? She could destroy our home.

“If I trusted you, I might tell you more. The world is an ugly place, Britta. I think you have seen some of that. I can’t risk my brothers coming to harm because you want to write a scandalous story.”

Eyes fierce, she has lost her fear of me. “I’m not that kind of writer, Mr. Becket.”

“Then why dig up old stories that only my brothers and I care about? Why look for gossip where none exists?” I would give almost anything for her to have come back for me personally, but I know better. She wants her story.

A tear drips over her bottom lashes. “I became a reporter because I always have to know the details of every moment. I can’t help digging in when I find a clue. Someone left that note on my desk. Someone sent me on this journey. Maybe I should let it go. I don’t know if the story of this place is worth telling or better kept a secret. I only know that I want to know.” She dashes away a second tear.

Her pain shouldn’t matter to me. She’s not mine, and she’s come to destroy something important and good. “Upsetting you was not part of my plan. I should have frightened you away, Britta. We both would have been better off.”

Pulling her shoulders back, she meets my gaze with fire back in her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you, Oliver.”

ChapterFive

Britta

Maybe I should fear him, but I want him. Of course, my track record with men is dismal. It’s possible I’d be better off leaving without my story. Oliver thinks I’ll harm something by digging.

“You should be afraid. The ladies were right about me being a monster. No good will come from you being near me.” The muscle in his jaw ticks, and his blue eyes turn dark for an instant.

I very well may have lost my mind. “If I tell you about my past, will you share your story and let me decide if being near you is a good idea?”

Closing the distance between us, he runs his hand along my upper arm and closes his eyes as if my nearness soothes him. “It’s that important to you?”

My throat is tight with emotion. “Yes.”

Morris clears his throat from the doorway.

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