Mewler? An interesting term for a new vampire, but he wasn’t going to spar with her tonight. Rose had never liked vampires and seemed hell-bent on creating piles of dirt and ashes.
“We all have our talents and uses.” Alistair frowned. He didn’t understand her anger with him, and right now, he couldn’t care. Nothing could distract him from finding out if a supernatural had killed this human, and if so, which kind and which one? The Order would hunt down the perp to not risk the human world learning of them. “Not a drop of blood found?” he asked.
“No. Looking at her skin, it is practically translucent. And as we know, only mewlers are reckless enough to do something so callous, as they can’t control themselves or their appetites. So, how is your recently changed one doing?
Beau interjected. “I know you’re not suggesting—”
“I’m doing more than suggesting.” Rose cut him off and crossed her arms. “You’re harboring a dangerous creature.”
Instead of responding, Alistair placed on his shoe covers, and followed Rose into the apartment building to the third floor. Beau’s wolves posed as police officers, providing security. The quaint abode had no character inside but was filled with modern amenities, including a large flat screen television.
But it was the naked female placed in the center of a sigil that gave him pause. Most would consider the sigil to be reminiscent of witchcraft, but he knew it for what it was: the ancient symbol of the Order of Draconian.
“Now I understand why you contacted me.” Alistair sighed. He leaned down next to the woman, and on her neck was indeed a vampire bite mark. “That makes no sense, as a mewler would have torn her throat out, and my mewler, who is under my protection, would have ripped it to shreds. You and I both know that Leslie has remained safe and away from human contact. This one here was delicately bitten, and every drop lapped up. That speaks of expertise. Additionally, it would not only have been about the blood but the essence. If you smelled magic here, then this was not the one you are convinced could do this degree of harm.”
“You know what this could mean?” Beau asked.
They all turned to Beau. Alistair shook his head, countering the assumption. “The treaty has not been broken. Those under the Order’s rule know that they are not to feed off of humans.”
“Knowing and doing are two different things.”
Alistair scanned the room. “Did you notice any trace of magic when you entered the apartment? Usually, a trace will be left.” Alistair agreed and continued to scrutinize the scene when he noticed the edge of paper that appeared under the woman’s arm. “Rose.” He pointed. “What’s that under her arm?”
Rose leaned down and helped to rock the stiff woman’s body to the side, where they found her lying on a romance novel with a familiar man-chest cover.
“Looks like one of those hot romances,” she said.
Alistair didn’t worry about the model on the cover, but the female’s name: Leslie Love. It looked like the book he’d had stuffed down his pants on Leslie’s cruise. Couldn’t get any more obvious than that.
“Have you read any of her work?” Rose asked. “I was saddened to hear that she went missing recently. I guess this poor woman felt the same way. Nothing like knowing the author passed away, and the series won’t continue.”
Evidently, she didn’t know that Leslie Love and Leslie Cutlass were one and the same. He wasn’t going to correct her just yet.
“Series?”
“Yes, she wrote about the Highlands. Romance at its best.” Rose must have noticed that her words weren’t as contrite and restricted as when she’d started their conversation. She stepped back. I’ve warded this place for as long as I can, but soon, the other police will be here. Do you know anything about this?”
Alistair wavered. Nothing screamed “target” like having actual evidence with the suspect’s name on it at the scene of a crime. Geesh. He glanced around the room and didn’t even spot a bookcase with books. He headed from room to room, and with all the shelf space, there weren’t any books to be found.
Did the killer bring the book along, or was it a book the victim decided to read?
“You know how it is,” Rose continued. “Once bitten by the romance bug, she wasn’t going to put that book down even when facing death.”
He wasn’t sure if Rose spoke from personal experience, or what this one clue meant besides leading to his Leslie.
“Have you read this one?”
“Of course.” Rose rolled her eyes. She was being honest, almost too honest, as if a spell were working on her, forcing her to let down her police officer persona and instead, divulge what he needed to know. For a spell to work on such a powerful hybrid showed sustained and powerful magic.
“If I’m right, that’s the one about the völva; women versed well in our ancient magic and ways.” As she spoke, she slowed down. “You don’t think this is a clue, do you? That this Leslie Love knew or was a part of this world—our world?”
The humans would do a toxicology report. They’d discover if something else was at work, but völva knew how to heal and kill, which meant that, back at the compound, Leslie probably knew those things, too.
Could she be the one responsible for this murder, and maybe not even know it?
Chapter Nineteen
Leslie
I lost track of time. Days and nights blended together in my room where I chose to stay. Hidden behind thick curtains, many might have enjoyed this new world, but not me. Hate might have been a strong word, but it wasn’t strong enough for me.
A young woman knocked on the door and entered before I said yes. “I’m Reva,” she introduced herself. “If you can put this on, Alistair will be happy to see you up and at it.”
The dress reminded me of what it must have been like to have new money—clothes that felt expensive, which fit perfectly. The rich material in a pale periwinkle on a plush hanger was thrust my way.
Reva kept her distance, and I was to accept that I couldn’t kill her. Unfortunately, that was the thought throughout the day. How to kill and drain the maid with the heart murmur dry. This thirst fought against the rising hate of the situation, too. I didn’t care that I was now in what must have been an upscale compound for supernaturals, based on the décor.
“Uh, I usually don't find clothes that fit so easily,” I muttered, hiding my thoughts.
“No worries, these are just for you,” Reva said. Her chestnut-brown hair was falling from its ponytail, and she seemed as if she didn’t want to look me directly in the eyes. With a downcast gaze, she then handed me a pair of black high heels that fit as if made just for me.
I painted on a smile and waited for the door to click closed.
“Gran,” I loudly whispered. “Gran.”
“No need to shout, dear. Aren't you happy I was able to get Alistair to help out?”
“How is it that you can appear and disappear?”
“I don't know. Haven't figured that out, but this place is just perfect for your next Macleod book. You could even start the saga with a billionaire slant. The ceiling height, the grounds—I've seen it all.”
“And the strange vibe I'm getting here?”
“Well, you don't have the best instincts. This place is incredible. Better than being on that ship, I tell you. You wanted to get out of there anyway. This is an improvement.”
I slowly put on the outfit. “Have you seen anyone else here?”
“Anyone else?” Gran stopped to think. “This place is filled with people. A complete unique society. I think it’s because Alistair has arrived though. He’s supposedly hardly ever leaves his castle in Scotland. From all of the gossip, this is usually just a compound for the wolves. But all the wolves are staying at the den.”
“The den?”
“Yeah,” Gran chuckled, “This den place must be a hoot.”
“Whew.” I sighed. “I was starting to get worried.” I was sure she heard the annoyance in my voice.
“They are
all just supernatural, some even dead, spread across the property, but this house is specifically for the wolf pack. But you don't have a thing to concern yourself with. Seems that Alistair wants to limit the access to you. The more people and creatures here, the more danger you’re in. Only the essentials are here now, anyway.”
“What?” My hands stopped trying to button up the pearl-button sleeves. “I'm surrounded by things I can’t fathom. This doesn’t make sense.” I shook my head in disbelief, knowing full well what she said was true, but it was easier for me to live in denial.
“You know, you get this way when you are upset—all scientific. And there are tons of reasons to consider your current situation as not being optimal, but just because you can’t see it, or didn’t know it existed, doesn’t mean it can’t be true.”
“This is not just about believing in Santa Claus. This is about a dragon! He is a dragon. Not a cuddly dancing bearded dragon that you like to feed strawberries to, either. No, he’s telepathic, powerful.” My voice dropped. “And dangerous.”
“You always wanted a bad-alpha type.” Gran gulped down air. “I should tell you something now. You are bound to him by blood and my oath.”
“You did what?” I screamed. “There’s a difference between alpha-ooh and alpha-dick. I’m too old to try and train a dragon to be a proper man.”
“He’s not like that.”
“I know my worth and I’m not willing to settle. Even with all of this around me, I won’t sell my desires to the highest bidder. I want a lover of my soul, one who keeps my heart safe.”
“Are you going to give him a chance? Promise me you will give him a chance. He is an unpolished diamond, Leslie. It takes two for love to grow, flourish. You’re scared, letting your past determine and destroy your glorious future.” Gran came close and gripped my face between her palms.
There was so much I didn’t see.
How could you take hold of a future you couldn’t imagine? If my own father couldn’t love me, and my mother neglected me, how could I expect someone else to? Water could create rivers but also drown the brightest of hopes.
I’d been baptized in pain, nurtured by unholy hands, and fed from poisoned springs.
“Rewrite your story, Leslie. Everything before was your first draft. This is your chance to thrive. All you are is what you determine. Start again. Become what you want. This is your one chance. You’re a professional author, rewriting is what you do. Now it is time to do it for yourself.” She wiped my tears from my cheeks. “This place is perfect for us. Come, you don't want to leave His Lordship waiting. “Just you wait and see. He is going to sweep you off your feet and then I can finally see those grandbabies I've been waiting for.”
“Oh, my God, I barely know him, and you're trying to plan a wedding.” I tried not to think about Jordan, who I suddenly remembered and wondered why he’d ghosted me. I even wondered where Sunflower was. Plus, if I’d been knocked out of it for days, surely Claudine was worried sick.
“No, dear, I didn't say wedding. I said grandchildren. You can't live in a cave forever, and this man is like an Adonis. I might be dead, but if I had ovaries, they would quiver.”
“Ew, Gran.” A fresh wave of rage punched me. I clenched and unclenched my fists.
Gran stared at me.
“The rage is normal, I hear. Why don't you put all of that frustration to good use? Now that you're immortal, your body can move like a machine.”
“I don't want to move like a machine, wear incredibly tight leather, and rock a katana. I'm not a character in some freaking urban fantasy tale. This is my life.”
Gran folded her hands in her lap and stopped floating to take a seat. “Your angry with me. I understand, but what would you have me do?”
“Help me find my way. I can't do this alone, but I also don't know anything about what it means to be… this thing. If you were truly alive, I would have killed you by now.”
“That is the thing, Leslie. I think you need to find a way, an outlet to let go of all that rage.”
I understood her words, but all I saw was my pain. If I’d stayed on that ship with Alistair, surely, I would have fallen in love with him. He was debonair, like a hero in one of my novels stepped off the page. Now I realized that everything in my imagination had been true, down to the color of Alistair’s hair. I’d dreamt him and this entire world up, but it was all fucking real. A lie maybe … but real. Digging my heels into the carpet, I took one last steeling breath. “How?”
“What did you want to do when you were a child?”
“Play football?”
“No, not that.”
“I wanted to be Wonder Woman.”
Gran frowned. “That is a start, but you also wanted to be a wrestler, remember? You could surely do something with that.”
“I was eight, and it was the eighties.”
“Well, you did something then, and I expect you to do it now. What were we supposed to do? Let you die? If you are dead set on having a pity party about it—go, walk into the sunlight and get it over with, but I will not take you pouting around like a little brat when someone does something good for you. So, put on the damn dress, get downstairs, and thank Alistair. It cost him, too, you know. Tonight, let him wine and dine you, and maybe you can let your hair down, for once. I wish I could have saved you back then, but I saved you now. Go make the best of it.”
“I'm not having sex with him.”
“Pfft. I'm not asking about that, but I promise not to think less of you if you do. You will have to see his wonderful face and a body that will encourage you to do bad things with him. You remember the time I sent you to that bondage workshop for the third Macleod book?”
“Gran.”
“Well, just imagine all of those kinky things you could do.” She began to hum.
“I told you about it, but not because I wanted your expertise in case I met someone.”
“Just promise me, you won't give him the cold shoulder. He is too fine to be ignored.”
“If you say that one more time, I'm going to take the ring off and put it in my pocket.” I raised my hand. There were times when she enjoyed the game of romance way too much, and I wasn't sure if I was up to playing with her whispering in my ear.
“You don't have to worry about that. I don't think I'd be able to sneak in on him, anyway. He seems to have a knack for seeing the undead.”
Finally, dressed and composed, I headed toward the door. Unsteady on my feet, I wobbled on the high heels down the long hallway. Large painted portraits hung on the wall that I hadn’t noticed previously. At my speed, they were a simple blur.
“Welcome to the Compound,” Gran called after me. “Do you think all of these women are his ex-lovers? If so, boy, does he have a type. Look, if we stay long enough, he might be able to paint one of you, too. Wouldn't that be romantic?”
“I just want to make it through tonight, climb back into a bed, and pull the covers over my head. If I’m lucky, he’ll have a stake. Whatever shenanigans you have planned will have to wait for another day.”
Long shadows covered up what I assumed to be perfectly painted and beautiful women on the walls, and as my gaze drifted, I didn't expect them to land on Alistair, who was waiting in the hallway with his arms crossed. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, with the collar of his black shirt slightly undone. I gulped.
Freaking hormones.
“Did you hear a lot of that?” I asked him.
“No worries. I've been accused of more than just collecting paintings.” He turned away and assumed I should follow. “Come, Leslie.”
I took a step and pulled my shoulders back. He could be good for me, but even more, I could be great for him, too.
Maybe.
Chapter Twenty
Alistair
In the grand hall, members of the Order convened, all in their human form. Alistair and Rose stood at the front of the room, waiting. But more entered than even he expected, as if this was a casual vote. Usual
ly, in such cases, only the heads of the Orders and their representatives needed to be in attendance. The dangerous undercurrent ran through the crowd, led by Rose’s raging energy next to him.
“Much is happening that you simply refuse to see,” Rose said. “I’ve requested for those nearby to attend and given them access to the guest cottages. This place has a hundred rolling acres of space, so until this is over, I expect the supernatural presence on the Compound to be exceptionally busy.” Rose gestured to a golem to move forward, then lifted up a box and placed it at Alistair’s feet. “I had this delivered.”
“Are the wards in place?” Alistair asked, ignoring her huge display. He refused to look at the box.
Standing at the front of the great hall, with Gullinbursti, his pet golden-haired boar loudly snorting beside him, Alistair considered his options. He ignored the makeshift throne Beau had situated on a dais. Sure, with his arrival, Beau had hired maids to clean the place up. No more dirty socks or the place smelling like an animal kennel. He wasn’t in Scotland and had no need to appear like he was holding court, but he did need them to know that he was still in charge, Ruler of the Order, even if he was just visiting Charming’s Compound.
With the woman’s death in the city, he must now speak to the community and advise them of what this could mean.
* * *
Within the compound, Rose still gave him due deference as the Dragon Prince, ruler of the Order, and the one who kept their worlds safe. “Yes, your Highness. Today we must make sure everything is taken care of. They will make it that no one can enter.”
Alistair wiped his brow. The last thing he wanted to be reminded of was that if Leslie stayed, she'd be in danger, and if she left, their souls would forever remain connected.
And it also didn’t help that her hostility was growing more and more each day. She’d need to work out, but also be introduced to this new world where she would be under his protection.
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