*Claire*
Our eyes lock in some kind of silent and unspoken duel. Hands still in my pockets, I adjust my hand on the grip of the dagger and the top of the holy water. I refuse to back away from those dark eyes that, in this light, seem to consume his entire eye socket.
“Claire? Heavens above, you know how to make an entrance," he says quietly. “You must have some kind of sixth sense on knowing the most interesting time to catch me."
“I thought you said you haven't killed anyone in centuries. Wasn't that what you told me?" I demand, feeling my body tremble. Is it because of the cold? Is it the adrenaline? I feel a pang in my chest. What is this feeling? Why can it not just leave me alone?
At my accusation, Nathaniel's brows furrow and he straightens his head. I see his jaw clench. Did
