Love Me to Death (Underveil) by Marissa Clarke

woman who had set her sewing aside and took her hand. “Before we get to the issue of the cord binding the two of you, I’d like to introduce you to someone, Elena.” He escorted the tailor’s assistant to stand right in front of her. “This is Margarita Juarez. Margarita, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Elena Arcos.” The woman took off her tinted glasses. Stefan Darvaak stepped back and smiled. “And now, Elena, you can say you know one.”

Chapter Eight
    E lena stared into Margarita’s blood-red eyes and nearly fainted. Dear God. All the awful things she’d said about vampires. “I’m…” Her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry… I—”
    Margarita held her hand up. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Our species has its bad apples, just like humans—because all vampires were humans first.” The woman’s red eyes bored into Elena. “You don’t have to choose violence. I don’t. Your father didn’t.”
    Her breath caught. “You knew him?”
    Sliding her glasses back on, the vampire shook her head. “No. I know of him. Everyone does. Things were better when he was alive.”
    No kidding . Elena’s rib cage felt like it would shatter if she so much as took a breath. She had been very young when he died, but still, she missed him so much—even though what she remembered about him seemed distorted now that she knew what he had really been.
    Margarita returned to her sewing while reality hovered just out of Elena’s reach. She stared down at the cord. She was turning into a vampire, and Nikolai couldn’t kill her. And that, coupled with the fact all vampires weren’t evil as he had portrayed them to be, certainly put a new twist on their relationship. Had everything he told her been a lie?
    She stared at Stefan, who studied her with his eerie, pale eyes, and then at Nikolai. He’d been no more than ten feet from her for the last two days, but she felt like they were miles away from each other. Even when he’d had his mouth and hands on her, they’d been worlds apart.
    She sat again and turned back to Stefan. “Please find a way to free me from this—from him .”
    “I certainly appreciate your desire, but I can see no way that I can be of help other than seeing you clothed and fed. That cord is elven-forged. Only the artisan can break it without killing you. It’s too late for me to help you.”
    “The elf who made it isn’t available. And it’s not too late,” Nikolai said. “You can go back in time before I tied it on her…us.” The desperation in his voice matched her own. “Please,” he continued. “Fold time to before I bound her and take the cord away. I know you can do this.”
    The tailor shuffled back into the room and gathered his supplies. He moved so strangely, and his eyes were brown, not red. If Margarita was a vampire, what was he, Elena wondered. He took the shirt from Margarita and handed it to Stefan, not even looking at Elena or Nikolai.
    “Send a bill,” Stefan said, and the man bowed and backed away, then scurried straight for the door, followed by his assistant carrying her sewing box. Stefan rose and placed his hand on a black pad by the door, and it clicked and swung open.
    Margarita paused just inside the door and removed her glasses. “Your father believed that vampires are not unfortunate victims of fate. He told us that we are creators of our own destiny. His words became our motto: ‘With wise choices, we are destined for greatness, with poor choices, oblivion.’” Her red eyes never wavered from Elena’s, as if trying to memorize her. “My people are close to complete oblivion. Make wise choices, Elena Arcos.”
    She left, and all of them stared at the closed door for what felt like forever.
    “Wow,” Elena said, finally.
    Stefan leaned back against the door. “Nothing like a lighthearted farewell.”
    Nikolai scooted to the edge of his seat on the sofa. “Go back in time and remove the cord