Page 6 of Blood that Burns

CHAPTER TWO

MAGGIE

Marcellus’s estate is the equivalent of a haunted mansion on top of a hill. Perpetual clouds loom overhead, casting a shadow of misery over the place.

The perfect lair for a vampire prince.

Inside it’s no different.

Shadows are cast over the stone walls, causing goose bumps to pepper over my skin. Only the glow from wall sconces lights my way, and I silently curse Marcellus for choosing to live in the dark ages when electricity is available. He has plenty of money to upgrade this mausoleum, yet he’s determined to suffer in the dark.

Morose vamp.

The silence only manages to set me more on edge. Marcellus said the place would be empty, but it would be just my luck that this would be the night for an intrusion hisseerdidn’t see—along with the plethora of other events she’s missed.

Not that I’d be completely helpless.

Marcellus has started to train me.

We’ve worked on self-defense, weapon training, and how to best disable a vampire. I’d be able to put up a good fight, but that doesn’t mean I want to accidentally stumble across a vamp in this place. I might be stronger, but I’m not capable of fending off a vampire yet. We’ve just scratched the surface.

My feet carry me swiftly through drafty corridors, leading me toward my favorite room in this oversize tomb. The conservatory is always lit, with magic lights hovering over the various plants to nurture their blooms.

It’s full of color and warmth, and I find myself getting lost in here for hours when I’m allowed to roam.

I sigh contentedly when I enter to find the room just as it always is. The heady fragrance of lilac and jasmine permeates the area, falling around me with the effect of a weighted blanket, promising comfort and safety in a place where neither should feel attainable.

Meandering through the aisles, I find solace among the thriving plants and herbs hidden in the far corner of the manor, tucked away from the evil that visits, rotting this place from the inside out.

With every day that Marcellus is forced to remain among the vile vampires, I see a piece of him wither and die, with no way to help. It’s corroding his mind and slowly convincing him that he’s truly one of them.

He needs his brothers, but he refuses to get them involved in his sacrificial mission.

The conservatory is the one place he allows his true self to shine through. It’s a rule that we leave our worries and fears outside of this room. It’s as much his escape as it’s become mine, and neither of us disrupt the pact we’ve made in keeping this place free of our burdens.

During the quiet times here, when no visits are thrust upon him, we find ourselves tending the plants together, helping them grow and prosper. It’s a tether to a life he dreams of, pulling him out of the dark and toward a hopeful future. Free of the Council that seeks to destroy the current monarchy and, eventually, mankind.

I take in one more deep breath and head toward my corner, where I’ll sit for hours in peaceful solitude. The book tucked under my arm is calling to me, begging me to open the cover and dive into its escape. Marcellus brought it to me days after my arrival here, likely as an olive branch.

How he knew I adored reading, I still don’t know to this day. I never wanted to poke around at how long he’d been watching me, waiting in the shadows to swoop in and steal me away from my life.

A life I was all too eager to leave anyway.

I sigh, taking in the worn cover. It’s a regency romance, complete with an asshole duke who falls for a young wallflower. Perfect to keep my mind preoccupied for a little while.

Anything to distract from the worry I feel for Marina and Marcellus.

The loss I’ve felt the day I was ripped away from Lawrence Bellamy.

In the quiet of this space, I dream of him, transporting myself into the book. I’m the not- so-timid wallflower who simply wants to spread her wings and fly. The girl who doesn’t want to be told what to do and when to do it. The one who wants to make her own path. Law is the dark duke, content in philandering his life away with meaningless trysts, refusing to acknowledge the intense draw he has to the strong debutante. Because falling in love isn’t an option. Not for him.

Bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.

I’m lost in the story for hours, unwilling to stop, turning the pages with rapt excitement to see what’ll happen next.

I don’t know how much time has passed, but a yawn escapes my lips, pulling my attention away from the book for the first time since I’ve opened it. My eyes land on the oversize clock on the wall directly across from me and I gasp.

It’s one o’clock in the morning.