The WOLF Gene (WereGenes Book 4)

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The WOLF Gene (WereGenes Book 4) Page 5

by Amira Rain


  I couldn’t believe I’d allowed myself to want to. All I could think of in my defense was that by caressing my hand how he’d been doing, maybe Nick had cast some kind of a spell over me that had made me especially susceptible to the feel of his fingers on my skin. I knew that was a stretch, though.

  Other than possessing superhuman strength that gave them the ability to, among other things, hurl themselves and each other hundreds of feet in the air, vampires typically didn’t possess any skills as far as supernatural spells and wizardry. It seemed more likely that I had just let myself fall prey to some very human, very sensual feelings.

  After pacing around my new living room for a few minutes with my anger at myself only increasing, I opened the glass French doors in the middle of a wide row of windows and stepped out onto the balcony, hoping that some early evening fresh spring air might cool me off a bit, in more ways than one. To my extreme irritation, images of Nick’s handsome face and his long, hard body had been stubbornly flashing through my mind the entire time I’d been pacing.

  Placing my hands on the high, wrought-iron railing that surrounded the balcony, I looked down on the city, trusting that the view from the eleventh floor would be enough to distract me from the unwanted thoughts spinning around in my head. I wasn’t the kind of person who was absolutely terrified of heights and looking down from high places, but I was the kind of person who felt plenty enough rattled by it, usually just enough to get my mind focused on the distance between me and the ground, if nothing else.

  It was now after seven, and because it was only April, the sun was already sinking low, painting the few dozen tall buildings around me in shades of brilliant orange and gold. Although tall for Everglen, the buildings were all on the shorter side compared to the ones I was usually surrounded by living and working near downtown Detroit, each of them being anywhere from five to ten stories tall.

  For a city the size of Everglen, some of them might have even been considered simply high-rises, not “skyscrapers.” However, since these buildings were probably the tallest buildings around, and since they constituted the entirety of the city skyline, the definition of “skyscraper” almost seemed to fit.

  The majority of the buildings were made from gleaming steel and glass, which made them all appear golden in the dimming light. I imagined that I might take my morning coffee outside on the balcony every morning, just to see the beautiful sight of all the buildings gleaming in the sunrise.

  Across the street from my building, one of the tallest buildings in the city stood proud and shining, with a steel-framed wide base and three progressively narrower levels ascending to the top, where an enormous blue-and-black flag, which I guessed must be the official flag of Everglen, flapped in a stiff breeze. On our way up to my apartment in a glass-walled elevator, Nick had told me this building was where all official Everglen business was conducted, where all elite coven spies were trained, and where Nick held meetings with his council members and advisors.

  The building my apartment was in was a building primarily used for residential purposes. Nick had a penthouse on the floor above me, but other than him, I had no clue who my neighbors were. Nick hadn’t said who shared the eleventh floor with me, if anyone, and who lived in all the floors below, and I hadn’t asked.

  Far below me, shiny cars wound their way through the city streets. From what I’d been able to see at a distance, all of the cars were brand-new, which didn't surprise me. Nick had mentioned that a few decades after the city had been built, residents had started manufacturing cars at a plant to the east of the downtown area. Nick had thought of the idea in order to accomplish two goals at once.

  For one, it provided the city’s residents with jobs and purpose, something Nick said that many people needed, being that most vampires only needed to sleep an hour or two a day. This had been the same with the members of the Dormio Coven, so this was at least one way the two groups were alike. For another thing, the manufacture of cars increased the city’s wealth, which Nick had said was important to keeping all residents happy.

  “No one wants to live in run-down dwellings like the other vampires,” he’d said. “What little they have, they’ve stolen. It’s not a right way to live.”

  He hadn’t elaborated, and I hadn’t asked, but I got the feeling that the “other vampires” he’d been referring to had been the Dormio Coven, back in Detroit. And although I hated to admit it, them being accused of stealing sounded about right.

  Many of them had been thieves back during the time when I’d dated James, anyway. I hadn’t liked it, but he’d insisted it was necessary. Something about how stealing from humans and various private businesses wasn’t wrong because the ends justified the means, or something similar.

  I had to admit, grudgingly, that no matter how evil Nick’s coven of vampires truly was, his idea to get the city started in manufacturing cars for the good of everyone struck me as a fairly noble one. It was at least better than stealing.

  I remained out on the balcony, just looking down at the ant-sized cars, for a long while, until I suddenly realized that my feet were freezing, and one of them in particular. A glance at my feet told me that somehow, I was still only wearing one sock, after having taken my slippers off inside the living room. And the early spring evening certainly wasn’t warm, probably only in the upper fifties. Hoping that Nick’s employees had filled my dresser drawers with lots of socks, I soon left the balcony and headed back inside.

  After making myself some dinner and enjoying a long bubble bath in my luxurious new master bathroom with sunken marble tub, I didn’t sleep well that night, tossing and turning. I’d always been something of an insomniac, and the problem had only gotten worse while I’d been held captive by the government. So it was safe to say I was used to it. However, on this night, my first night in Everglen, my insomnia problem seemed to even be a bit worse than usual.

  Three times, I awoke after dreaming about Nick -- his handsome face and his long, lean, muscular body. In the third dream, he was holding me and kissing me, with his hands freely exploring my naked body. But almost as soon as this dream had begun, it morphed sickeningly into the scene when I’d found all my coven members dead, drained of all blood and their throats ripped out.

  I awoke from this third dream, although maybe nightmare would have been a better description, in a cold sweat, trembling, and at least an hour went by before I was finally able to fall asleep again.

  The next day dawned clear and cold, and I took my steaming mug of coffee out on the balcony, knowing that this day would be the day that the sexual parts of my dreams about Nick would likely come true. Which thoroughly revolted me, even while at the same time, I couldn't stop butterflies from swarming in my stomach. I couldn’t deny that I’d never wanted a man as badly as I wanted Nick.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Around noon, an older woman named Clara, who was one of Nick’s female employees from the day before, came up to my apartment bearing a basketful of fresh fruit, and also a bag full of odds-and-ends that she’d forgotten the day before and thought I might need. She gave this bag to me with a smile, and I couldn’t help but be grateful that my new “food bringer” was a woman who was much warmer than Nora at the secret government prison had been.

  Frankly, I was grateful that clothes and food were even brought to me in Everglen by anyone at all. While Nick and I had driven to the city, I had been slightly afraid that I might have to endure some serious mistreatment before I’d get a chance to execute my revenge plan. After all, all I’d ever heard about the people of the Everglen Coven was that they were unspeakably cruel, more like wild monsters than any kind of vampires.

  Now, after having met a few of Nick’s employees, I could clearly see that this wasn’t exactly the case. Yet, anyway, I told myself. I realized that the vampires of Everglen might just be the type of monsters that could go from zero to evil within a second. I figured that anyone who could kill an entire coven of innocent “good” witches almost had to be like th
at. At any rate, I knew I was going to have to be somewhat on guard at all times around Nick and his people until I was able to kill Nick. For whatever good being “on guard” would do me without my supernatural powers.

  I’d tried to almost force them to return to me that morning, attempting to shoot fiery beams of light at nearly every object in my apartment. I’d had no success, though. For a quick second, I had thought that my “light trick” had finally worked when I’d tried to shoot a beam of light at a potted fern, but then I’d realized that the flash of light I’d seen had only been the reflection of my silver bracelet on the brass planter that the fern was sitting in.

  Eventually, I’d given up. I still felt like my powers would return someday; it was just a matter of time. I decided I’d try not to force things anymore, or at least not force them as hard as I had been. Instead, I’d just spend a minute or two each day “testing” to see if my powers had returned. In the meantime, I’d just have to resign myself to being without powers, come what may.

  After I’d spent a fairly pleasant day arranging all my new things in my new apartment, Nick showed up at exactly at eight, knocking on my door a little less forcefully than he’d done the day before at my government prison apartment. When I opened the door, which had been unlocked, Nick stood leaning against the frame, looking so handsome that it nearly took my breath away.

  He gave me one of his small, vaguely sly-looking smiles, while at the same time straightening up from the doorframe and extending a single rose to me. “This is for you."

  With a blend of pink and red petals, the rose was unlike any I’d ever seen before. It was perfectly unique. It was gorgeous. Exquisite. However, it was also a rose from a wolf in sheep’s clothing, of that I was certain, no matter how handsome, and sexy, and spell-inducing that wolf was. This was exactly what I was going to have to be “on guard” about, I suddenly realized. It was one thing to share pure, physical pleasure with Nick, I figured, but I couldn’t let little things like roses sway my heart toward him.

  Committed to spending the night acting like a regular woman with no plans of assassination, I took the rose from Nick, returning his little smile. “Thank you so much. It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s exactly like you. Although gorgeous might be an even better word to describe you.”

  My face flamed, and I couldn’t think of anything to say in response.

  Sparing me, Nick lifted a covered plate he held, gaze on me. “May I come in? I brought you some dinner in case you haven’t already eaten. As for myself, I ‘ate’ beforehand, so as not to make you lose your lunch. I figured that seeing someone sucking blood from a live deer on the dining room table might just have that effect.”

  Nick gave me a sheepish little grin, and surprising myself, I laughed. It was just a brief chuckle, just for second or two, but enough to make me think that my acting job of getting him to trust me that evening might not be such a tough one. It also made me think that I was a terrible human being for laughing at a little joke made by the man who’d killed, or had at least helped to kill in some way, the only real family I’d ever known.

  Now grinning, obviously pleased that he’d gotten a chuckle out of me, Nick strolled on into the apartment. Somewhat to my chagrin, he truly looked even more handsome than he had the day before, which I wouldn’t have thought possible. However, that had been before I’d seen him in dress pants and a collared Oxford shirt, which he wore with the top button undone, allowing me a tantalizing peek at his chiseled chest.

  I myself was a little more dressed up than I’d been the day before, wearing a knee-length, pale blue sheath dress with a neckline that was somewhat low-cut, though not outright plunging. I’d decided on this fairly conservative look after trying on two other new dresses from my closet, not really sure at all what kind of look I should be going for.

  The first dress I’d tried on, a rose-print one with a below-the-knee hem, had seemed a bit frumpy, while the second, a short magenta one with a neckline that was definitely plunging, had seemed far too sexy. Especially since I couldn’t quite decide if my goal was to get Nick very worked up before we entered my bedroom or not. After all, even though I wanted him badly, it seemed somehow just plain wrong to intentionally want to arouse the man that I was fairly certain was an evil man just pretending to be otherwise.

  My footwear was also a bit dressier than what I’d been sporting the day before. Instead of just a single sock and fuzzy slippers, I was now wearing a pair of silver ballet flats that Clara had brought up to me that day. She’d also brought up a pair of heels, but like the magenta dress, they’d just seemed far too sexy.

  After Nick had escorted me into the dining room, seated me, and set the covered plate in front of me, he said he’d be right back. “I’ll get a vase for your rose, and some glasses for our drinks. Just one minute.”

  I saw that under one arm, he held a bottle of white wine and another bottle of some amber-colored liquid, maybe whiskey. I had to wonder just exactly how drunk he was planning on getting me. I wasn’t going to allow that to happen, though. I’d have a glass or two of wine, but I was determined to remain more or less “on guard” at all times. Something just told me that it was going to be all too easy to fall “off-guard” that evening, even without an excess of alcohol.

  Alone in the dining room, I allowed myself to relax a little, noticing little details about the room that I hadn’t before, because I hadn’t yet eaten in the dining room. This was because since arriving in Everglen, I’d only ever eaten by myself, and the spacious dining room had seemed a bit too formal for just a meal for one. A granite-topped island in the kitchen had seemed more suitable for my casual meals.

  Above a long, polished oak table in the dining room, a glittering crystal chandelier hung suspended by a shiny gilded fixture, and a few tall floor lamps in the room looked to be of polished brass. Two oil paintings that flanked a single enormous, wide window on the east wall added to the room’s air of elegant, effortless sophistication. Making for an interesting juxtaposition, one of the paintings was a woodland scene with lots of greens and blues, and the other was a cityscape, Everglen itself by the looks of it.

  In contrast to the other areas of the vast apartment, which were decorated, painted, and furnished in shades of creamy beige and white, the dining room was all color, with walls painted a vivid burgundy, although a burgundy that was very much on the red side. In fact, as I surveyed the walls, I thought that if I’d had to pick a name for the paint color, I probably would have gone with red-burgundy. The shade seemed perfect for a dining room in a building apparently owned by a vampire leader. It was almost the exact same color as blood.

  Nick soon returned from the kitchen, with the bottle of whiskey and the bottle of wine still under his arm. In one hand, he held a few glasses, and in his other hand, he held my stunning, unusual rose in a clear glass vase.

  Seemingly determined that this evening would have all the trappings of romance, he soon returned from another quick trip to the kitchen carrying two brass candle holders with tall red taper candles, already lit.

  Along with the vase, he set them in the middle of one of the far ends of the table, near where I sat at the left of the head of the table. I wondered if he’d sit across from me or sit at the head, in the position of most authority and power.

  He quickly answered this question, sliding into a seat across from me. He then began pouring our drinks, his expression unreadable, which was somewhat typical for him, I was starting to think. Even though he was quick to give me little smiles every so often, he seemed like the type of man to keep all emotions and thoughts close to the vest, which troubled me. Maybe because I knew that this was going to make it hard for me to tell when he was just “acting” and when he wasn’t.

  After handing me a glass of wine, he poured a glass of whiskey for himself. With his dark gray eyes twinkling, he then looked from his glass to me. “I usually like to enjoy a glass of wine when I’m in the company of a beautiful woman who’s drinkin
g the same.

  “However, tonight, I think I’m going to have some whisky neat, no ice and no water. See, you have to do something to assert your masculinity when you voluntarily forego your usual spot at the head of the table just so you can directly look into the eyes of the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.”

  For the second time that evening, I laughed before I could really think about it or stop myself. However, like the previous time, I only chuckled for a second or two before I caught myself. Clearly, Nick had a good enough sense of humor to tickle my funny bone, but I was determined not to disrespect my deceased family members by engaging in a full-out chuckle fest with the man who was surely responsible for their deaths in one way or another.

  After smiling in response to my chuckle, Nick took a sip of his whisky and set the glass on the table. “Let’s finish our talk from yesterday at the government prison. I’d like to answer your questions, and any others you may have thought of, while we enjoy our drinks and dinner.”

  Lifting my wine glass, I gave him a polite nod. “All right. Well, question number one, I guess, who painted the dining room this color? And was there a particular reason for it?”

  I wasn't exactly sure why I was asking this question or what I wanted to hear. Maybe some confession or admission of guilt that the Everglen Coven was made up of all dark-hearted vampires who were so bloodthirsty that they even liked their walls to be painted the color of blood. I didn't know why, but I felt like it might give me a little satisfaction to know that Nick at least felt free to hint that they were evil. I wasn't going to get that satisfaction, though.

  This was because Nick simply answered that a non-vampire interior decorator had picked the color. “I guess she just thought it was a good choice for a formal dining room.”

  “Oh.”

  Sipping my wine, I asked him several other general questions about the apartment and the building before once again trying to get him to reveal something of his true nature in a response.

 

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