His lips peeled into a smile. The setting sun was a dull white orb on the horizon. Its light caught and glimmered along one long fang. “Good evening, querida.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Master Alcántara was waiting on the steps as I walked from the Arts Pavilion. He leaned against a pillar, looking every inch the dark, seductive rocker. One would never guess that he was actually an ancient Spanish vampire who’d served as a mathematician in the royal court.
For a moment, I hoped he was there for some other reason, but his gaze didn’t budge from me. He pushed from the pillar to approach, his movements lithe like a deadly panther.
“I’m outta here,” Josh mumbled under his breath.
I shot him a scowl. “Thanks.”
But then I smoothed my features to something bland and proceeded to ignore Josh entirely. Alcántara had expressed an unnatural interest in me—and lately it felt like I was the focus of a lot of unnatural interest. The last thing I wanted was for him to suspect Josh and me of fraternizing. I’d lost enough people in my life.
And where was Carden? I’d felt his presence practically vibrating through the room earlier. Fear for him speared me. From the start, I’d seen only animosity in Alcántara’s eyes where my Scottish vampire was concerned. I suspected that vampire rivalries were more ruthless than anything a mere Trainee would be subjected to.
“You are looking as lovely as the evening, mi cariño. Might I escort you to the dining room?” He reached his hand out to me, as if I might need help descending the stairs. It was a courtly gesture, and he wore it well.
I clearly had no choice. Suppressing a shiver, I responded how I imagined any good fourteenth-century lady would have and accepted his cool hand in mine. Besides, I wanted to get out of there before Carden came out to find us talking. “That would be lovely.”
He stroked my palm, easing way closer to me than was comfortable. “Did you enjoy the concert?”
I lied—of course. “I did. Baroque music is so evocative.” The wind gusted, and I was grateful when my hair blew into my eyes—tucking it behind my ears gave me an excuse to reclaim my hand. After getting my hair burnt off by my psycho roommate, my bangs were growing out in the most frustrating way imaginable.
But then Alcántara paused to bring his own hand to my face, gently pulling a couple errant strands from between my lips. “Que rubia,” he whispered. “Tan rubia.”
So blond. The sentiment and his touch made my skin crawl. Ever since I’d disobeyed his orders while on our mission and rescued Carden myself, our relationship had been different. I’d thought I was no longer his pet. Apparently, I’d thought wrong.
I couldn’t pull away, so instead struggled to change the subject. “I particularly enjoyed the harp,” I said, my voice chirpy. “It must be such a difficult instrument to play.”
Nodding, he tucked my arm in his and continued to walk. “Master Heinrich studied in Vienna.”
As much as I hated music with Master Dagursson, I supposed it could’ve been worse. I could’ve been made to study the harp with Master Heinrich.
Alcántara mistook my silence for contemplation. “Much has been written about the links between music and mathematics in the Late High Middle Ages.”
“Your time period.”
He gave me a satisfied 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.