Was that why he’d taken an interest in me? Because I could chat math facts with him?
“Older than that,” he said triumphantly. “I have discerned other writings on these pages that are more ancient still.”
I almost scooted closer on the couch—the nerd in me couldn’t help but be fascinated. My mind raced with the possibilities—what else might be written on pages more ancient than the Bible?
But then my heart skipped a beat as I remembered why I was there.
I was in trouble, and I had no clue when the repercussions would begin.
He placed the tray down with a clack, startling me from my reverie. “Enough of my interests.” Adjusting his body, he faced me on the couch and reached his arms toward me. I could only stare dumbly. “Your hands, Acari Drew. I told you I would attend to your hands.”
Oh crap.
I held my right hand out, chagrined to watch it tremble ever so slightly. I could hope he wouldn’t notice my fear, but I knew vampires didn’t miss a thing.
He edged closer and took my hand in his.
Here we go.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I forced myself to focus on what Alcántara was saying—something about ancient Greece—rather than on the fact that he held a part of my body cradled in his cool palms.
It took a conscious effort not to ball my hand into a fist. Hand injuries were tough—the wounds were trying to clot, but they kept splitting back open, and even though I’d washed them at the dorm, they still oozed dark red. All that smeared blood made me feel exposed.
He traced his finger along my palm—in the path of the deepest cut. A creepy feeling wiggled up my spine, both prickly and warm at the same time.
If Alcántara could tell how terrified I was, he didn’t let on. Instead, he just kept talking, his voice a soothing, Spanish-accented lull. “…And Archimedes was the greatest of them,” he was saying.
Greatest of…mathematicians, Greeks, what? I tried to tune in, holding on to his words as a way to normalize the situation—to stop that disturbing cold-hot that was spreading its way deep into my belly. I forced a stiff nod. “Yes, Archimedes. Ahead of his time.”
“Would that I could have known him.”
Ohmygod. Alcántara was leaning in. Dipping his head closer to my hand, like a dog about to sniff. Or lick. Oh God.
His lips parted.
Oh please no, a little girl voice keened deep inside me. He wouldn’t lick my palm, would he? I wanted to pull away, but the vampire’s cool grip tensed ever so slightly.
“Are you familiar with his work?” His breath was hot on my broken skin. His eyes, focused on my bloody cuts. Was he going to feed from me? My belly roiled with terror and revulsion.
No he won’t. No he won’t. No he won’t. I tried to will him to keep his mouth away from my open skin. My heart was pounding so hard now, I felt the pulse throbbing in my head.
He’d said something—I needed to reply. My mind raced, desperate to remember some ancient Greek fun fact. Because that mouth was closing in.
“Yes,” I blurted, more loudly than I’d intended. “Archimedes. He said he could lift the earth. If he had a long enough pole. Or a lever, I mean. If he had a place to stand and a lever, he could move it. The earth.”
Though Alcántara’s head was tilted down, I could read how my comment had pleased him, despite—or maybe because of—my nervous babbling. He chuckled, and I felt the puffs of breath on my skin. “So he did.”
“But he was killed,” I said, dredging everything I could from memory. At the word killed, I gave an instinctive tug to my hand, but the vampire held on tight.
“So he was.” Alcántara traced the lines on my hand, smearing faint trails of blood across my palm. He brightened, remembering the story. “They say Archimedes spoke his last words to an attacking Roman soldier. ‘Do not disturb my circles!’” He laughed, and gooseflesh crept along my arms. “Human creatures are so delightfully banal.”
I tried to imagine what else he might’ve thought about us humans. Delightfully banal…but loads of fun to kill. Banal…but for the musky aftertaste. Because the other shoe was going to drop, and soon. This punishment was shaping up to be a doozy.
But still, the vampire didn’t release my hand. Instead, he swept his cool finger along my palm again, harder this time, splitting the cut back open until I flinched from the pain. He held his finger up to catch the firelight. His skin was stained a pale pink.
I watched, horrified, as he brought it to his lips. And then his eyes caught and held mine as he sucked his finger slowly into his mouth.