by Keary Taylor
“How old is that thing?” Ian asks with a laugh.
I plug my old school iPod into my portable speakers on the counter. “I’ve had it since I was a sophomore in high school, probably,” I say as I click it on and scroll through playlists. I click on the one that says “RISE THE ROOF.” An old rock song starts blaring through the speakers. “I brought it with me to work every day back home. I’d put my headphones on and just…”
“Get in the zone,” Ian says in a half teasing tone.
“I guess,” I chuckle as I start measuring out my dry ingredients and mixing them in a bowl. “I think it started ‘cause my mom always listened to music when she was cooking in the kitchen.”
“You don’t talk about her much,” Ian says. He slides the sugar toward me when I point for it. “How’d she die?”
That familiar feeling of sadness sinks in my stomach as I remember the police call. “She was walking home from work one night. Her car was having problems and she really wasn’t that far from the diner where she worked. The girl was on her phone texting, the cops said. She didn’t even see mom crossing the road—or the red light.”
“I’m sorry,” Ian says. His voice is quiet and low and I can tell he means it. “That’s pretty horrible.”
I nod and crack an egg. “It was. I mean, I was nineteen. I was living on my own, so I’m sure if I’d still been at home, it would have been a whole lot worse. But still.”
“Of course,” he says. And I realize that Ian is one of the only people who can know what it felt like. Our parents died in different ways, but they’re both dead.
“I guess we’re both orphans, huh?” I say, trying to make a small smile.
Ian shrugs. “I do have Lula. What about your grandparents?”
I shake my head and tip in the vanilla. “They were pretty old when they had my mom. Grandpa died when I was like six, and Grandma died only a year later. I don’t really even remember them all that much. They lived in Levan, that’s where my mom grew up.”
“I didn’t know that,” Ian says. I pass the bowl to him and the whisk. He sets to mixing all the liquids together.
I nod as I pull out a baking sheet and the parchment paper. “Yep, my mom grew up there. She got a summer job here in Silent Bend after she graduated high school. She was only here for three months, but I guess that’s when she met Henry.”
It’s depressing, thinking that there was no love between them, no deep meaning, just one night—and they made me.
“I’m sorry you never got to meet him,” Ian says as he passes the bowl back to me. “I hate vampires, but he’s the only one that I ever respected. Didn’t know much of anything about him, but sometimes you can just tell when someone wants to be a good person. Henry never wanted to hurt anyone. He just wanted to be left alone.”
I nod. Maybe that’s what my mom felt when she was around him, that he wanted to be a good person. Maybe that’s why she spent a night with him and later left, not knowing what she carried.
Sometimes the past repeats itself.
“She left Mississippi at the end of the summer and headed to Colorado for school,” I continue the story, trying to push away the complicated feelings I have when it comes to my father. “She wanted to be a vet and they have this amazing school. It was nearly half way through the first semester before she’d admit that she was pregnant. She quit going to school after only one semester there so she could support me.”
“She sounds like a good woman,” Ian says quietly.
“She was.” I pour the wet and the dry together and mix in the coconut and the chocolate chunks.
“You’re lucky.” That tone in his voice carries a lot of weight.
“I’m sorry your parents fought so much,” I say. “I can only imagine.”
“It was ugly,” he says. He hoists himself up onto the counter and crosses his ankles. “I think Mom had all these big dreams of what she’d do with her life. She wanted to be somebody. But then she met my dad, fell enough in love with him, married him, and got pregnant right away with me. She knew she had to take care of me and Dad, and I think she kind of resented that.”
“That’s awful,” I say as I roll the dough into little balls. “Couldn’t she do both? Follow her dreams and have a family?”
“I guess she didn’t feel that way,” Ian says with a shrug. “I don’t think they planned on having more kids, but then Elle came along.”
“I guess we’re both a little broken, huh?” I say as I slide the baking sheet into the oven.
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?” he says with a sad smile.
“You’re a strong person, Ian,” I tell him quietly and seriously.
“So are you, Liv.” I look up into his eyes and there’s depth and sincerity there. There’s also a tiredness that’s come from always being what I just told him he was.
He slips off the counter, his thigh sliding down mine in the movement, catching my towel and dropping it to the floor. But Ian’s eyes don’t dip, don’t search my body. They stay locked on my eyes.
Slowly, his hands rise to softly rest on my cheeks. He brushes his left thumb over my cheek. I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it.
“It’s all very tragic, you and I,” he breathes quietly. His gaze is intense and deep. “I’m the enemy of a House you won’t be able to run from. I stand for what I stand for, and we can’t deny what you will become one day.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way, but suddenly there’s a sharp pain in my chest. “It’d be easier to walk away now, wouldn’t it? Before this goes any further. Just call it done.”
“There’d be nothing easy about it,” Ian counters, shaking his head. I realize he’s taken a step forward, pushing me back toward the bar. “It’d be extremely painful. But it’s what should happen.”
“But…” I whisper. My eyes are locked on his lips. My nerve endings are sizzling to life. There’s an electric storm in my lower belly.
“But I just can’t.”
I don’t know if it is him or me that closes the distance between our lips, but instantly it’s gone. They’re fierce, and demanding, and frantic. There’s no distance between our bodies and my back is being pressed against the bar. Ian’s center is pressed against mine and I’m sure I’m going to loose my ever-loving mind into blissful obliteration.
Skin to skin. It’s a maddening, beautiful thing.
Ian’s hands clamp around my hips and he hoists me up onto the counter, wedging himself between my knees.
There’s no walking away from this.
Ian’s lips trail from my mouth down to my neck. My head falls back with a sigh as I expose more territory for him to claim.
“We should stay away from each other,” Ian growls into my skin, even as his right hand trails from my neck, down my arm, over my thigh. He wraps his fingers around my ankle.
“We’re going to be enemies someday,” I manage through my quickened breathing.
Ian kisses his way across my throat and then back up to my lips. “But damn, there’s no time like the present.”
A smile crosses my lips as they are consumed again. Ian slides me back on the counter. My butt catches something and the mixing bowl with the rest of the cookie dough goes flying to the ground. Ian places a knee on the counter, hoisting himself up, pressing my body back onto the countertop. I hit something else, and the open container of sugar crashes to the floor.
Ian places a hand next to my head to support himself and smashes an egg. But neither of us cares too much, apparently, because our lips never part. My hand is exploring the wonderland of Ian’s torso, and his other hand is snaking its way around my bare back.
It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been with a man. I’ve been on only a few dates since my mom died. I’m far out of practice and I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be any good at this anymore.
But Ian and I together…we are magic.
I’ve crossed a line before, though, and there was a price to be paid.
>
“Ian,” I say against every instinct in my body. “I…I want to be careful.”
Ian backs away from me just slightly so he can look down in my face. “I don’t exactly want to stop this, cause damn,” he chuckles, and I can feel all the ways his body is reacting. “But I’m not the kind of guy to just take a girl on the kitchen counter for his first time.”
A little chuckle makes its way out of my chest. “There’s no way you’re a virgin,” I say before I can think to stop it.
“And why the hell not?” he demands, his brows furrowing in offense.
“Because,” I say. I can’t help the smile on my face, he’s totally joking. “You’re you. You’re all cocky and presumptuous and you say the stuff you say without thinking twice about it. There’s just no way.”
“Well,” he says, his eyes softening. He runs the back of his fingers over my cheek. “It’s true. I’ve been too busy taking care of my family and trying to keep the streets of Silent Bend clean to form much of a relationship. And honestly, it’s hard to bond with anyone with a normal life, when mine has been so…un-normal.”
His eyes are soft and open. And I can see it there, that it’s true.
“I’m sorry,” I say, placing my hand over his and trapping his hand on my cheek. “I just—”
“It’s okay,” he interrupts. “But I take it that you’re not a virgin, too.”
I shrug, trying to be casual, but really, I’m ashamed. “Just once, the summer after high school. I’d just broken up with my high school boyfriend. You could say it was a rebound or revenge. Whatever it was, it was a mistake.”
“That sounds super romantic,” Ian says as he climbs off of me and back to the floor.
“Yeah, it was about as much as it sounds.” He gives me a hand so I can slip to the edge of the counter. There’s sugar caked on my entire back and everywhere in my hair. “You’ve got egg all over both of us.”
“Now I’m delicious and smoking hot,” he says with a wink. The timer goes off and I pull out some perfect cookies. I grab one and hand another to Ian. They’re scalding hot, but I have baker’s hands after all those years in the kitchen.
Ian takes a huge bite out of his cookie, no doubt burning his tongue. “Come on, let’s go get cleaned up.” He reaches out for me, and hand in hand, snacking on cookies made in the dark, we walk back toward the stairs.
We find Ian’s and my clothes folded and placed on my bed. I blush at that. Did Rath really make those assumptions? But Ian takes his clothes and heads for one of the guest bathrooms while I shower in my own.
I pull on some cotton shorts and a tank when I get out and braid my hair over my shoulder. A minute later, Ian saunters back into my room and leans with his shoulder in the doorway.
“Well, I guess I’d better get back home,” he says. He studies me, but it isn’t demanding, or provocative. He’s just seeing…me.
“You don’t have to,” I confess quietly. Because for the first time since moving here and living in this house, I haven’t felt alone.
Neither of us says anything for a long time. We stare at each other, and there are a lot of thoughts going on. We know this can’t end in a good way. He has his place in life and I have mine, whether I want it or not.
But we’re here. And there’s no question that we are something cosmic when we’re together.
“Okay,” he finally says quietly.
He flicks the light switch off. I turn off the light in the bathroom. We both climb into the gigantic bed, and I tuck myself into Ian’s side. He presses a light kiss to my forehead, wrapping his arms around me.
Here. Here I am safe. Here I am understood.
And that’s it.
We listen to each other breathe for a long while. And eventually, we sleep.
IAN ISN’T THERE WHEN I wake in the morning.
Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. He’s always doing stuff when he should be sleeping. I’m sure he had something to take care of. And he does have work today. He’s doing a double shift.
So, with him out of the way, I spend the day planning my future. Because once again, I’ve just been waiting for the House to take control. It’s time I take matters into my own hands.
At ten o’clock, after the sun has gone down, I walk down to the garage. There’s a row of hooks that hold the keys. I grab the ones for the Jeep, because it’s the least intimidating of all the vehicles.
The engine growls to life, and I carefully back out of the garage. With every day I spend here, I’m feeling more like things are mine. Like it’s okay to touch and use them. I’ve been here for exactly a month now. I don’t get lost in the house anymore. I know where things are. I’ve made a mess in my room, walked through the house naked. I’m feeling at home. This is the house my father lived in and where I should have grown up. The Conrath house feels like it was where I was supposed to end up all along.
The night is quiet and incredibly dark with the moon nothing more than a tiny sliver. I turn onto Main Street, drive a quarter of a mile, and take a left at the bakery. The road stretches on, through the swamp. And then there’s the decaying, half-ruined House. I park right in front of the steps and climb out.
I knock on the front door three times and wait. I’m nervous, that’s without question. But it’s time I grow a backbone.
One of the Bitten I remember from my last visit opens the door. For a second, black veins surface on his face and his eyes brighten to a glowing yellow.
“I want to speak with Jasmine,” I say, sounding confident, despite the immediate threat. I shove my way past him, pulling a stake from my purse.
He gives a small hiss when he sees it, but takes a step back. He’s recognized me now, and I have no doubt he knows what it would mean if he kills me.
“Wait here,” he says with disdain in his voice.
My palms are slick with sweat and my heart is racing. I slip the stake back into my purse. I stand there waiting, listening to the sounds of the House. Cameron and Trinity sound like they’re playing a game somewhere. There’s this metal singing sound I can’t identify. And then there’s a small scream somewhere upstairs, followed by a wet ripping sound.
Now I know where Markov is.
Movement to my right catches my eye.
The door to the library is cracked, and just inside I can see Christian. His fangs are deeply sunk into a woman’s neck. Veins sprout out onto Christian’s face, his eyes glowing. He takes one more pull and releases her. With control and careful movements, he lowers her to the ground.
The breath must catch in my throat because suddenly he looks up.
A smile crosses his face and he wipes a thumb at the blood under his lower lip and sucks it clean.
“Don’t worry,” he says as he walks out into the foyer. “She’ll wake up in about an hour. The House had need for another Bitten.”
“Oh,” is all I manage.
He gives me another one of his smiles and starts up the stairs.
“Alivia.” I look up as Jasmine rounds the corner. She has a pleasantly surprised smile on her face. “I wasn’t expecting you this evening.” But there’s that annoyance hidden in her voice that says she didn’t summon me, so why am I here?
“I know,” I say, taking a quick, deep breath. I tell myself that I am technically a Born Royal and this is my House. I am ruler over her. “I wanted to discuss some terms with you.”
“Terms,” she repeats, a wary expression in her eyes.
Micah rounds the corner, and he stares me down coldly with his arms folded across his rather defined chest. And then comes Lillian, who doesn’t look annoyed to see me.
“What kind of terms?” Jasmine continues.
“The terms of me claiming this House,” I say.
All three of them grow silent and serious. Jasmine is thrown off, angry, surprised, maybe a little bit relieved. I’ve turned the tables on her, invading her life and imposing my wishes on her, and she doesn’t know how to take my assertion.
“Let’s
talk,” she finally responds. She extends her hand out toward the library.
I walk through the doors, and I’m shocked to see that everything looks back to normal. Maybe even better than it was before. The windows seem to have been replaced, covered once again. The bookshelves are repaired. There’s no pool of blood on the floor. Only one stain on Jasmine’s chair.
I’m tempted to sit in it, just to piss her off, but then I remember what she is, and I don’t really want to die and resurrect tonight.
I choose to stand instead.
Jasmine sits in her chair. Micah sits beside her. Lillian sits on the couch and folds her hands elegantly over her lap.
“I know how badly you want the respect of the Royals again,” I start. “If you claim me, you won’t be shamed anymore. I can only imagine how hard it has been keeping the House afloat without any support.” I play to Jasmine’s sympathies. I need her to agree to my terms if I want to stay in control of my life. “But I also understand what may happen if the King comes.”
I meet each of their eyes. Lillian seems understanding and nods as I speak. I decide I might like her. If I ever tried to gain an ally here in this House, she might be it. Micah just looks at me with disdain. We will never be on good terms.
“I will help you,” I say, turning back to Jasmine, who watches me with impassive eyes. “I will claim the House, and I will help you get the respect you need back. By doing this, I know that the King will try and probably succeed in killing me. I’ll resurrect and become a Born. But you have to wait a little while.”
“How long?” Jasmine asks. “I’ve lead this shamed House for fifteen years.”
“Just until January first,” I say, letting it out in a breath. Because after that day, I’m surrendering my life as a human. “That’s my twenty-third birthday. And if I’m going to stop aging, that seems a good one to be frozen at.”
“What’s wrong with being well seasoned?”
I turn to see Markov walk into the library. His face is covered in blood, it drips down onto his white, button up shirt. He dabs at himself with a handkerchief.