Witching Tree (Alice Gray Book 1)

53

           
Medieval princess? I looked after Emily and Stephen, puzzling what she could have meant.

"It's your dress. You look like a noble woman."

Thomas's voice was smooth and deep. Suddenly he was standing directly in front of me. I gulped, the action getting caught somewhere in my throat and turning into a splutter.

Nice, Alice, real nice.

The priory was silent. We were alone. Just me and him.

Crap.

My body hummed with the energy created by his proximity. I tried to ignore it, but it was the first stirrings of power I'd felt since the coven had sucked me dry.

The impulse to nurture it was strong. I didn't want to be helpless again.

As if his beauty wasn't incentive enough, this guy was like my own personal battery.

"Nice painting," I said, clutching at straws.

Thomas laughed softly, refusing to take the bait.

"Yes," he said, taking my hand. "It is."

"Look, Thomas, this is really not the time." I tried to free my hand from his firm grip.

"This is the perfect time," he said, pulling me in so that our bodies were almost touching.

Thomas's expensive cotton shirt brushed against my dress. My breath hitched as the friction between the fabrics intensified the urgency with which I needed to touch him. The dress was so thin that I could feel every movement, magnified by the acute sensitivity of my raw skin.

The urge to pull him to me was almost too strong to resist.

I knew that if I met his eyes, that would be it, so I tried to concentrate on the painting behind us.

When that failed, I closed my eyes and ran through all the times that Thomas had bullied me in the last couple of days.

The power flowing into me from our connection buzzed and hummed its approval.

Bloody magic; it liked his domineering ways.

That was all I needed.

Thomas placed his free hand at the base of my back. Little bursts of energy exploded in happiness at the contact. When I felt his hand tremble, I couldn't supress the stupid grin that ruptured the firm set of my face.

That's when he knew he had me. We both knew it.

Dropping my hand, he reached up to caress my cheek. Everywhere he touched, a trail of energy followed, igniting my desire, urging me on to connect with him in any way that I could.

With a tender touch, he tilted my face so that I couldn't help but meet his eyes. Dark pools of lust met my gaze. Something lifted from my soul, something that had been weighing me down since Stephen broke my heart.

Thomas wanted me, as much as I wanted him.

Then it happened.

A swirl of silver flashed through the dark brown of his eyes.

I stumbled back, all the delicious sensations that my body longed to embrace, tarnished by disappointment. I'd almost fallen for another man's false desire.

Poor, plain stupid Alice. Falling for men way out of her league.

I was an idiot.

The fact that I was the cause this time, that he couldn't help it, did not make the fallacy less bitter.

Without the pull of my life-force, Thomas would not look at me twice, and I couldn't blame him for that. His beauty would always be exceptional, and I could only be described as average at best. That would never be his fault. My anger quickly dissipated, leaving behind it a depressing sense of resignation.

Thomas must have seen it play out in my face. He looked at me questioningly, but then the planes of his face sharpened as anger burnt away all trace of tenderness.

"You love Evan," he spat, drawing away from me.

"No...Thomas. It's not like that. This, what you feel for me, it's not real," I tried to explain.

A roar of anger interrupted me.

A nervous giggle burst out of my mouth before I could stop it. Panic escalated in my mind until it had permeated through my entire body. My hands trembled as I took in Thomas's tense stance, fury emanating from his crimson eyes.

"I am not some snivelling witch. I am Vampire," he said, each word carefully enunciated, his voice getting progressively louder. "I cannot be influenced by you."

I backed away, considering making a run for the door. Through my fear, the sting of his words pierced me. He spoke as though I were beneath him. Why, then, was he so upset that I could reject him?

"Don't go," he said, body sagging as the anger fled as quickly as it had taken hold. He looked at me with wide, sad eyes. "Why do you doubt me?" 

That's when I noticed how dishevelled he was. Black hair fell messily onto his forehead. His skin was paler than usual, and I wondered when he had last fed. The bloodstain on his shirt raised more questions than I wanted to consider right then.

He leant against the wall, head bowed, energy depleted, a completely different man than the fierce creature of a moment ago.

It was too much. I might be able to resist his temper, but this was something different. My heart hurt looking at him.

I walked back over to where he stood and placed my hand on his chest. "I didn't mean to insult you, or doubt your feelings. But with everything going on around here, surely you can understand why your attraction to me might seem suspect? You haven't exactly been consistent. Declaring your devotion one minute and then pushing me to submit to you the next. It's hardly the makings of a healthy relationship."

"I thought you understood," Thomas said, raising his eyes to meet mine. "You and I are connected by something more powerful than your life-force. I've been waiting for you for a long time, Alice."

"What do you mean?"

"She said you would come. I never thought you'd look so similar, that you'd feel the same." A distant expression clouded his face. "Alice, your namesake. She was so beautiful, just like you. I loved her as soon as I saw her. She said it wasn't our time, that I had to be patient and that you would come to me eventually. I didn't believe her. I thought that she was the one for me, but now I know she was telling the truth."

A bad feeling settled in my gut. "Thomas, how old are you?"