by Missy Maxim
She shouldn’t like him, of course. As decent as he might have been since she came to stay here, Julian was still a killer, a murderer, a vampire. Feeding was a natural instinct for any species, but he hadn’t just fed to survive--he’d killed people and enjoyed it. Meditated how he would carry it out. It was all on the pages. Even without a conscience, he’d still had a choice.
Stockholm Syndrome was not where Catherine wanted to see her life going.
“Just continue getting yourself through this so you can escape later,” she muttered. “You have to think of how to survive.”
The next day, Alana came up to say they were going shopping.
“Does Julian know?”
The half-demon rolled her eyes. “Yes, Julian knows, it was his idea! Do you want some fresh air, or not?”
“Yes, definitely!” Catherine rooted around for her purse and coat, and hurried to catch Alana in the hall. “Where are we going?”
“Into London, of course. We’re not going to find you a ball gown in the nearby hamlet.”
“Ball gown? Huh?”
“Julian’s taking you to the opera next week. He didn’t tell you?”
“Not yet.”
Alana tsked. “Just like a man. Well, anyway, we’re getting you a dress and a makeover, no expense limit imposed.”
“A m-makeover?”
She rolled her eyes again. “Well, you can’t go looking like that! Haircut, manicure, make-up…the works, honey. Trust me, when I’m through with you, you’ll be the envy of every rich slob stuck with an old, fat wife. The gossip rags will talk for weeks!”
Gulp. Catherine looked heavenward and sent up a little prayer.
Alana chattered the whole ride to London, citing their route for best designer fashion efficiency. She tuned it out, looking out the windows at her first glance at freedom in almost four weeks. Would it be possible to give her the slip while they were out? Did she want to?
The first stop was at a salon/spa. To someone used to getting her hair cut at Fantastic Sam’s, the exclusive spot made her feel a bit overwhelmed. The women sitting in the chairs in this place were wearing jewelry worth more than her grandmother’s house. Alana didn’t seem to notice, breezing in like she owned the place and slapping down a platinum card on the desk.
“I need a trim and a pedi, and she needs the works,” she announced, jerking her thumb at Catherine.
“Yes, madam. Any specific requests?”
Alana looked at her with a critical eye. “Her hair should stay long. Anything else you do is up to you.” She was ushered to a station to have a seat while Catherine was whisked off further into the shop.
Several people buzzed around her at once, brushing her bangs off her face and looking at her hands. One woman held color swatches up to her face, then shuffled off. A man wearing a tight tee and designer jeans pushed her into a chair.
“What’s your name, love?”
“Catherine,” she meekly replied.
“Well, you’ll be Catherine the Great by the time we’re through. How do you feel about color?”
“Color? I-I don’t know about--”
“An intensity glaze, then. We just have to do something about this mousy tone, see? Goin’ to make your skin tone and eyes pop.”
“If you say so…”
He started mixing stuff in a bowl while the manicurist came over with polish bottles.
“Pick one for your toes,” she commanded, holding them out. Catherine pointed to the blood red. “Perfect. You use your hands much, hon?”
“I guess so…”
“Thought so. We’ll do a good buff and shape, then finish with the top coat.” She pulled out her files and grabbed a hand.
The make-up lady came back with some base colors. She tested them on Catherine’s cheek and bustled off again to mix the custom shade. Alana gave her a thumb’s up while she talked on her cell.
Two hours later, they finally let her look in the mirror.
“Didn’t I tell you they were fabulous?” Alana gloated.
“Yeah…” Catherine absently replied, caught up in the image she saw before her.
She looked…flawless. Ageless, yet definitely more grown up than the eighteen-year-old girl that walked in the door. Her hair was glossy enough to be its own light source, the mascara now on her lashes made her eyes look huge, and her feet felt soft as a baby’s. The bangs that had been too long were now trimmed just above her eyebrows, which had also been groomed into perfect arches. She was leaving with a bag stuffed full of products to help maintain this “vision”, though she felt she’d never be able to duplicate their results.
Alana paid for their services and dragged her back out to the car.
“Now you’re ready to walk into Dior!”
Catherine had only read about shopping being thoroughly exhausting. She’d never experienced it firsthand, until today.
Maybe it was a demon thing, because Alana was like the Energizer Bunny in her mission to find the perfect everything. They went to clothes stores, shoe stores, lingerie stores…it was all one big blur of horrendously expensive merchandise.
In the end, they had a dress being custom altered, shoes, a new lingerie wardrobe for Catherine (and wasn’t that embarrassing), and a formal clutch to match the dress. It was a relief when they finally stopped for dinner.
“I’m surprised a girl like you didn’t try to slip away today,” Alana said as she peppered her salad.
Catherine paused, then put the bite on her fork in her mouth.
“I thought about it.”
“So, why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. I do miss my old life. My freedom. The idea of being in Lorcan’s clutches scares me witless… But it was fun today, out with you. I certainly couldn’t have afforded this, over in California. I don’t know… This whole situation is so weird…”
“Well, if I were you, I’d play against Julian’s hatred for Lorcan. We don’t normally house girls against their will, you know. They come willingly and leave when they please.” Alana fixed her with a look. “You could curry his favor…”
“What, be his slave, instead?”
“No…convince him to let you go. Duh.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Catherine asked suspiciously.
“I’ll side with any female over a man, any day. I’d let you go right now, except I don’t think you’re done learning from us, yet.”
“Learning what?”
“That’s for you to figure out.”
***
Julian was boggled by the amount of bags and boxes being carried in by the servants in Alana’s wake.
“Bloody hell, Alana, did you buy out all of sodding London in one day?”
She gave him that look that said she thought he was being very stupid. “A new wardrobe can hardly be built in a day, Julian, though we did come close.”
“Where is Catherine, anyway? You didn’t lose her…”
“No, I didn’t lose her! I told her to wait outside to make her entrance once the boys finish carrying everything in.” She flipped her hair off her shoulders and picked up her bags to take to her suite.
“Alana… How’d she do?”
She paused on the stairs. “They swallowed it hook, line, and sinker. She’s a natural.”
The lady in question came through the front door as Alana disappeared upstairs. Julian turned towards the sound of her footsteps.
“Hi,” she said shyly, wiggling her fingers to wave.
Wow.
Julian could hardly believe she was the same girl he saw at supper the night before. Her hair was in glossy waves, instead of a French braid, and she wore snug jeans with a violet scoop neck sweater, instead of the usual baggy attire. A knee-length black wool coat topped the ensemble.
He glimpsed a tiny sliver of taut fair skin between the sweater and jeans as she walked closer. Her lips were glossed rosy pink. He’d never noticed their beautiful shape before.
***
“Cat got your tongue?”
Catherine asked, noticing his glazed-over expression.
I knew I shouldn’t have let Alana dress me out of the store…it’s all wrong…
She ducked her head and headed for the stairs. “I’ll just…” she muttered.
Julian snapped out of it and grabbed her arm. “No. Don’t. I mean, you don’t have to run off, pet. You look lovely.”
“You’re not just saying that?” she asked. “Alana’s taste is a lot more overt than mine--”
“Catherine. I mean it. You can even put on a bloody fashion show, if you like.”
***
There was that pretty blush he was used to seeing.
“I believe you. Thanks.”
He let go of her arm and guided her into the parlor to sit. “You enjoyed being out today? Alana can be a bit much in large doses.”
Catherine nodded. “It was nice, once I figured out the salon wasn’t going to do something scary. And she’s a pretty good shopping buddy, despite running me around until my feet fell off. London’s a beautiful city. I’m glad I’ve seen it at least once.”
“Good, good… And you got a dress?”
“Yes. It’s being tailored. We actually agreed on it, if you can believe it,” she said, chuckling.
“It must be special, then. Have you eaten?” They’d missed dinner with the others.
“Yes, we stopped at a restaurant before heading back. I was pleasantly surprised, since I’d heard English food…lacked.”
“Mocking my heritage now, are we?”
“Depends on if that offends you,” she teased back.
“And if it did?” he volleyed.
***
“Then, I’d apologize, or take my punishment like a good girl, depending on your preference.”
Thinking on Alana’s advice, Catherine realized she no longer feared Julian. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but she felt confident enough to show that she was more than a meek woman-child. The ball was now in his court.
Julian’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in scrutiny. “You don’t fear me anymore, do you?”
“Should I?” she replied mildly.
“Always,” he purred. “I’m still a vampire.”
“True, but if you were going to eat me, you already would have,” Catherine countered. “You’re not like Lorcan.”
“Maybe not, but you read the book.” He waited for her nod. “I’m a bad, rude man.”
“But with honor, and the capacity to love. It still sets you miles apart from him.”
“Romanticizing my exploits, love?”
Catherine shook her head. “No, but none of us are defined by one action. We’re the sum of all our decisions. I do want to know…”
“Yes?”
***
Might as well see where her sharp mind was heading.
“After Santa Barbara…you changed course, started all this. Why suddenly go under the radar?”
“Why do you want to know?” he snapped.
It was still a painful time to remember, almost ten years later.
“I…I just want to understand.” Her voice was soft, timid. “I kinda like you, when you’re not yelling at me.” She dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry for being too nosy.”
Why did making her feel bad twist his gut a little? He shouldn’t care.
“Catherine…maybe another day. Turn in early. You’ve had a long day.”
“Of course. Goodnight, Julian.”
Chapter 6
Julian flopped into the chair at his private desk and flipped the switch to turn the monitors on. Instantly, cameras showed views of every bit of the house and surrounding grounds.
Alana was in the business office tabulating expenses. The cook and his assistant were washing dishes from dinner. One of the girls was in the library, a couple others in the TV room…interesting…and openly flirting.
Catherine was just reaching her room.
He watched her set her bag aside and hang up her coat in the armoire. Her recent purchases were scattered about the room, and she set about removing the tags and putting the clothes away where they belonged. She was quite the little organization queen.
Julian wasn’t surprised--Catherine approached everything with methodical efficiency, practically to the point of being anal-retentive. He wondered if she’d freak if he mixed up all her stuff. A chuckle escaped as he imagined it.
“Well, now…”
While he’d been musing, Catherine had finished putting things away, and was now changing her clothes. Julian normally shut the feed off to preserve her privacy, but tonight, he was curious to see if Alana changed all what the girl wore. He was evil, after all.
She pulled off the sweater and hung it up, revealing a plum lace bra. He approved of the color against her fair skin. Would there be matching bottoms? The jeans shimmied down her hips, confirming his assumption. She wore bikini knickers in the same lace.
It was the most he’d ever seen of her body, let alone the newly-improved version due to the exercise regimen he put her on. She had tone and curves in all the right places, places Julian wouldn’t mind exploring. His prick seemed to agree, as it was well on its way to full hardness. He unfastened his pants and slipped his hand in to relieve some of the tension.
Catherine picked up a set of pajamas and walked into the bathroom, cutting off his show by closing the door. His sensitive ears picked up the sound of water in the bath a second later, though, so he let his imagination fill in the gaps.
He found it strange he was so turned on by a human woman. He found many women attractive, of course, and fighters had always gotten him hard, but raging lust had always been reserved for Celia. She’d entranced him with her mysterious beauty from the moment he laid eyes on her, and captured his devotion from the moment she took his virginity after his first feed. He hadn’t turned her down once in over one hundred years.
It hadn’t occurred to him until now that the night she left changed all that. Guess a bloke takes it to heart when his beloved leaves him for another man while he’s injured…when he needed her most.
At least they left him the minions.
Julian considered himself most fortunate to be healing while the most recent hunter was dead. The minions brought him a fresh victim a day, and by the time the new girl arrived three months later, he was back in good shape and self-reliant. He watched the young mouthy brunette for a couple nights, left a note describing her weaknesses on her doorstep, and left town.
From what he heard, she lasted five years, something no other hunter had ever done. They were on the third girl, or something, since.
The water rippled from behind the thin bathroom door as Catherine lowered her body into the water.
Julian imagined her creamy skin would pink with the heat, bubbles hiding her pert breasts from view. He already knew she liked citrus-scented soap, like orange blossoms. Fatigued from a long day on her feet, she’d sink down to chin level in the water, closing her eyes in bliss as the warmth soothed her aching muscles. It would be the perfect moment for him to slip in unnoticed and join her, catching her foot when she jumped in surprise and kneading the pressure point in the arch. She’d be instant putty in his hands, and then he’d show her just how useful it was for a vampire to not need to breathe…
He came suddenly, spurting all over his hand and belly.
“Think you were a soddin’ adolescent…” he chided himself.
That’s it, mate…it’s been too long since you’ve had a bit o’ rough and tumble.
He could go into London, find some chit for a fuck and feed…
Making up his mind, Julian changed clothes and headed for the easy part of town.
***
Catherine finally had a night to herself without needing to study until she fell asleep in the book, and she couldn’t fall asleep. Her mind kept going over the day, what Alana said, and her conversation with Julian.
And the fact that Lorcan was two and a half weeks away.
She could run away, but she had very little money. Without some kind of protection, Lorcan would probably find her again. If she befriended Julian, then she had a potential ally, but was he befriend-able? Being amicable during her lessons didn’t mean he cared for her.
And Julian was smart. He’d probably guess the reason she was trying to get chummy and call her bluff on it. But Alana suggested it was possible…
Two hours later, Catherine was no closer to falling asleep.
“Screw it.”
She got out of bed, donned a robe, and went down to the kitchen to make some warm milk.
***
Of all the places, on all the nights, I have to run into a demon hunter…
Julian had gone to a demon/human bar that was a guaranteed location to get laid, only to discover that it was demon-clearing-night for the current do-gooder. Barely got to finish his ale before the bint started tearing up the joint.
Bitch.
Uninterested in landing back on their radar, he snuck out the back while no one was looking and drove home. Stomped straight to the kitchen to raid the liquor cabinet.
“Hey…bad night?” Catherine asked, sounding surprised to see him.
Julian skidded to a stop. “What are you doin’ up?”
She held up a mug. “Warm milk. I couldn’t get to sleep. You?”
With her hair down, face scrubbed clean, and flannel pajamas, she barely appeared all of her eighteen years. Wholesome beauty untainted.
“Went out for a drive.”
Julian walked to the liquor cabinet, took out his key, and unlocked it.
***
In that? He wore a leather coat over a tight tee and even tighter jeans.
“Wearing cologne?” she ventured.
“What’s it to you…”
“Nothing. Just curious, since I’m awake and sitting here.”
“Curiosity killed the cat, love.” Julian selected Glenlivet and drank straight from the bottle.
“Good thing I’m not a cat, then,” she replied, stirring her milk.
He straddled a chair across from her as she sipped from the mug. “The kitten, then. Still applies.”
“If I were to guess, you planned to blow off some steam.”
“And now?”
“Still looking to…hence the bottle,” she said