[WARNING! Unedited! Don't buy!]
Being Alistair's human blood bank meant many things, but foremost among them was confinement.
Each morning, when the pale light crept through the tall arched windows and the bells of the academy tolled the first hour, Alistair would depart without ceremony. His coat would be buttoned to the throat, gloves immaculate, expression carved into its usual mask of cold refinement. He would not look back as he left them behind, as though the rooms he assigned to Selene and Caroline were nothing more than a locked cabinet—useful, orderly, and silent.
Once the door shut, the silence would stretch.
