Blood and Wine - Margot Scott Page 0,24

I can get someone to cover if you need to take an hour off.”

I shake my head. My mother’s ghost is here. If I stay, there’s a chance I’ll see her again.

“I’m sure,” I tell Keema. “I just thought I saw someone.”

Chapter Eleven

William

“You were right, Will,” Mariah says to me. “My mom is here. I saw her in the garden at work this morning.”

“Did she recognize you?” I cross my feet on the dining table. Sadly, I missed their little mother-daughter reunion, thanks to Chastity choosing this fine morning to tap my arms like backyard maples.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but yes, she did.” She smiles to herself. “I wanted to hug her so badly. She looked so healthy.”

Mariah picks a grape from the bunch on the cheese board in front of her. We’re seated across from each other, at either end of the dining table, with an array of appetizers and half-eaten dishes spread out between us. Leftovers of a meal that was never actually served but exists to give the illusion of an ongoing gathering. The food is technically edible, if not at all nourishing.

Chastity passes through the dining room on her way to the kitchen. Mariah drops her grape in surprise.

“She can’t see you,” I remind her. By now, Mariah’s figured out that the twilight realm is a sort of alternate version of her world, rather than a place she’s invented.

“I know,” she says. “It’s still unnerving.”

She waits for Chastity to make her return pass with a glass of wine in one hand and the open bottle in the other.

“Will, do you watch me during the day?”

If I had a pulse, it would jump three stories.

“Only when you’re doing something private or embarrassing.” I say, half joking. In truth, I watch her all the time.

Hell, just a few hours ago, I stood by her bed and watched her pleasure herself. A better man might’ve walked away as soon as her clothes came off, but I’m not a man. Not anymore. And considering the decades of pain I’ve endured at her father’s hand, I reserve the right to steal a few stray moments of pleasure where I can get them.

She eyes me shrewdly. “Is something wrong? You seem quiet.”

“My apologies. I’ll try to be more entertaining.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I don’t need you to entertain me. I’m only asking in case you want to talk about it.”

“We are talking.” I scrub my face and sigh. This little girl’s too astute for her own good.

I’ve been walking a knife’s edge since I learned Chastity was dosing her with extra blood in the mornings. Mariah’s powers are developing faster than she can detect them. It’s only a matter of time before the family takes notice, and once they do, it’ll be too late. She won’t be trusted to move about the house unobserved.

However, more concerning than Mariah’s budding abilities is my own hesitation. Since I’ve begun drawing her closer, I’ve been haunted by the specters of some highly inconvenient emotions.

At first, they took the form of admiration. I’d be in the middle of teasing her, like a cat with a mouse, and realize I was genuinely smiling. A smile brought on by something she’d said, or the way she threw her arms up while we danced.

During the day, when I’d normally park myself in the field, I would instead seek out her physical presence. If Chastity snapped at her, I’d allow myself the imagined satisfaction of biting out the other woman’s tongue. If I noticed Edward eyeing her a second too long, I’d position myself in front of her—not that either of them could see me. I just couldn’t abide the thought of him looking at her.

This desire to shelter Mariah from those who would harm her is bothersome at least and counterproductive at worst.

But what came next, I can’t even account for.

Guilt. Like a cord tied around my ribcage, jerking me back when I should be inching closer.

I’ve killed innocents. It’s all but guaranteed that I’ll kill many more, especially if I remain at the vineyard. Mariah is just a human, alluring as she may be. Once she’s freed me, I know the bloodlust will run its course, but this guilt I feel for deceiving her is a weakness I can’t afford.

Mariah rises to stand at the window. I trace her shapely silhouette with my gaze before getting up to join her.

“I am sorry,” I say. “It’s been a long day.”

“Whenever I find myself back here,