A spike pricked my thumb just as a knock came on my door. I sucked the blood from my flesh, spinning around in my chair and bracing my elbows over the drafting table behind me.
“Come in,” I said.
I thought it’d be Papa. School didn’t start until next week, and the interns weren’t supposed to be here before the following Saturday.
When the door opened, the pliers in my hand dropped.
Rafferty Pope stood in the hallway, his golden mane a mass of curls, highlighted by the sun, his piercing green eyes shining all the way across the room. He was taller and broader than I remembered, with a youthful, deep brown tan and dimples that kissed his cheekbones. He looked…
Handsome? Stunning? Glorious?
All those titles couldn’t do him justice, and still, Pope stirred nothing in me—except an ecstatic rush of platonic love. He took a step into my room, his balled hands shoved into white polo pants that only further highlighted his tan.
“Lenora Astalis, misery treats you well. You look fit.” He stopped a foot from me, quirking his head sideways with a smile.
“Rafferty Pope, happiness treats you well. You look brilliant yourself.” I moved to stand toe-to-toe with him.
The boy who’d gone ghost hunting with me when we were kids in the castle. Who’d explored hidden paths and unearthed secret doors with me. We shared history, entwined interests, and a deep respect for each other.
Our arms found one another, and we hugged long and hard. He still smelled of the ocean, the sun, and foreign spices that made my mouth water. Pope ruffled my hair in an older-brother gesture.
“Sorry you didn’t get the internship. You bloody deserved it, Lenny.”
I didn’t say anything. It didn’t matter. We pulled away. I frowned at him, our fingertips still hovering over one another, not quite ready to fully let go.
“What are you doing here so early, Raff?”
“Oh.” He ran his hand through his hair, chuckling awkwardly. “I thought I’d get a head start on my piece. It’s a bit complex, and I heard Spencer is already bollocks deep in his project. You know I’m a competitive prick. I can’t believe they let him continue working on the piece he auditioned with.” His mouth curled in dissatisfaction.
“I do.” I scoffed, stepping away from him. The mere mention of Vaughn ruined my mood. “Vaughn Spencer can get away with anything. Even murder.”
There was a beat of loaded silence as my words soaked into the walls, as if inking themselves into my room, settling as a universal truth.
“I better go see Ms. Hawthorne about my room.” Pope jerked his thumb behind his shoulder.
Was he as nervous about Vaughn as I was?
“Sure. Duh.” I rolled my eyes with a smile. “Well, good to see you. Maybe we can grab a bite downtown after you’re done settling? Kebab and Irn-Bru?”
It had been a tradition for us in prep school.
Each weekend, Pope and I would march an hour into the nearest town to get kebab and chips in vinegar from a little tourist shack by the Thames. We’d never determined whether the food was divine because we were used to the organic, sugar-free cafeteria food at Carlisle Prep, or because the hour journey each way in the rain, snow, or baking heat unclogged our appetite and led us to devour the food when we got there.
“Ah, the feast of warriors and nectar of gods.” He offered a theatrical bow on his way out, tipping an imaginary hat. “Your wish is my command, milady.”
“Nerd.” I mocked.
“Drusilla,” he teased, his smile radiating just enough heat to make my childish room seem more bearable.
After Pope left, I sank back to my chair in front of the drafting table and shook my head on a chuckle as I bent down to pick up the pliers. When I glanced at them, I realized my thumb was still bleeding. Too lazy to make the trip across the castle to ask our secretary, Ms. Hawthorne, for the first aid kit for just a Band-Aid, I sucked the remainder of the blood into my mouth.
I threw my head back, closing my eyes.
His blood.
Why was I so thirsty for his blood? Why couldn’t I stop thinking about it? Despite what Arabella had said, I wasn’t a vampire. I wasn’t into blood play. At least, I didn’t think I was. Yet there was something about Vaughn Spencer I wanted to break.
I had a fierce need to peel back his flesh and see what was underneath. Unveil all his secrets.
I dropped my eyes shut, shook my head, and smeared my blood across the crown of thorns.
There is so much beauty in the darkness. It’s just harder to find.
As Pope and I spent time together over the next week, I got a lot better at pushing Vaughn out of my thoughts. He barely occupied my mind anymore. I gained confidence with each passing day, convincing myself I’d be able to assist him with his mysterious piece and still work on mine.