I hear a rustle, and that’s when I remember one of Harlow’s “rules”: Don’t expose your throat. I snap to attention and see an empty stair landing. Oh, crap. Where is he? Where did he go? Without thinking, I rush up the stairs—and stop at the top of the half-story platform. The count is there with his back turned, looking out a large, picturesque window.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I was told… not to do that, not to show my neck. I… but I forgot. I promise to follow the rules… better.”
“No,” he says. “There are no rules. I want you to be as you are.”
“But… instincts…”
The count turns, and I finally can see his face. My mouth drops, my eyes bug, and lightning streaks down to the very center of my being. He’s… he’s…
Gorgeous.
“Speak your truth,” he says.
Drool is about to spill over my lips when I cry out, “You aren’t old and gross at all! You’re…wow, you’re really hot!”
He startles, and I want to die of embarrassment. I grab my throat as I wonder how he did that—he controlled me and forced me to say what I was thinking.
His coal black eyes stare into mine in astonishment and suspicion. “You can see my face?”
I ignore his question. “You… you did that!” I say, angry and embarrassed and… I want to crawl under a rock and never come out again.
“My apologies,” he says as he stares down at me. “Sometimes I forget my own abilities.”
“Please… please don’t command me like that again,” I say. “That wasn’t nice.”
“It will not happen again,” he says as he studies me with interest. I’m not sure but I doubt the expression of curiosity is one the count wears often. Then his eyes narrow. “You are able to… see me?” he asks again.
“Um…” I start, frowning because I’m not really sure what he’s asking me. Of course I can see him. “I mean… yes?”
And he’s officially the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. Now that I’m closer to him, I can see the muscular build behind the dark clothing. He wears all black, but the suit is finely cut to his size perfectly. His body is a cross between a swimmer’s build and a lumberjack’s. Muscles shift under his clothes, and his suit flows with his form closely. Then there’s his face…
Yeah. Um, how to describe him. His features are… perfection. His eyes are twin mysteries and so dark, I think they might actually be black. They are large and yet somehow cat shaped and enigmatic. Shadowy. His perfect nose is so perfect, I almost wonder if he’s had it done, but then I’m not sure they have that sort of magic in Dread. Lips that any girl would be jealous of give the distinct impression they’d be soft and caressing. They taunt me, making me stare. I’m betting this guy has his own underground harem because no one would leave him alone. Not girls. Not guys. Not even asexual types. He’s just… he’s stunning.
The count broods, watching me like I’m a science project. I squirm under his stare, but that beauty is too good to look away from. Great goddess. Monster number two that I would gladly be eaten by.
He takes in a breath as realization crosses his features. “True Seeing. You have True Seeing.”
Duh. “I went to the Academy of Divination. Of course I have True Seeing.” It was a hard spell to master, but I’d worked my tail off at the top of the class to make sure I mastered this skill. But as I confirm his statement, the count shuts down. He’s still handsome, of course, but the void of emotion brings a cold foreboding to his presence. Unapproachable. Not that I have any chance of seeing him naked. Not that I want to. Because, I’m a virgin and we don’t think about those sorts of things.
“As I was saying…” He turns back to the window. “I have control over my instincts. Be as you are.”
“Okay… I can do what I normally do and you won’t… drink all my blood?”
A hiss that sounds like laughter echoes behind me. I have my back to the ghoul who stands on the landing with us. I turn to look at him.
Before I can ask about him, Jean-Claude huffs, “Do shut up, Stregen.” Then he faces me. “Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not mindless creatures who want to drain every lovely woman they see.”
Wait… he thinks I’m lovely?
“Yes, I think you are quite beautiful.”
“Did you… did you read my mind?” I demand, glaring at him because I thought he’d said he wouldn’t interfere in my head again.
“No. I read your expression,” he answers with elevated eyebrows. As if he’s amused with me. “You are quite an open book, it would seem.”
I’m pretty sure that’s an insult but I’m more worried about the ghoul than verbal sparring with the count. “And what about him?” I ask as I turn back and catch the count giving me a side-eye accompanied by a slight smile. “Does he have your willpower?”
“Stregen?” The count drops to a bored stance. “He’s been given orders not to eat you until you’ve seen your room.” The count turns and starts down to the first floor, leaving me to puzzle over whether or not that was a joke. I mean, that had to be a joke right? If so, his comedic timing sucks.
“Come along, Everly, the frolicking dryad,” he says with ennui, as though he has ‘frolicking dryads’ staying with him all the time. “I have something to show you.”
His attempt at humor is at best confusing, but I follow him down and around the stairs.
The castle is cold and damp, as though the outside weather has been
