Having successfully poked a hole in his inflating tizzy, Rau’s shoulders sagged. An amused smile twisted the corners of his lips. “My darling, Vincenza, how did I ever get along without you? You truly keep me sane.”
“That’s why you keep me around.” The chuckle died on my lips, chased away by the startling truth that I didn’t begrudge my time with him. Not anymore. No longer did I force a smile simply to appease the “monster.” Somewhere along the way, I had come to respect him. Which would make it that much more of a bummer if it turned out I had to kill him. Clearing my throat, I chased away that dreary thought. “Your press secretary sent over your winning and losing speeches. Let’s grab a couple of blood bags, read them over, and take notes on needed changes.”
“Fantastic plan. But first … did we decide on the red or blue?” he deadpanned.
Snatching the blue one out of his hand, I was tossing it over the bannister with a laugh when Duncan came thundering up the stairs.
“Lord Mihnea, you’re needed in the foyer,” he rumbled, nostrils flaring with the urgency of the situation. “It’s Lawrence Rawling, sir. He’s back.”
Chin falling to his chest, Rau shook his head. “I worried about that the moment I saw him at the camp. I had hoped he would prove me wrong. Prepare a cocktail, Duncan, in case it comes to that.”
Duncan moved surprisingly quick for a glacier-sized man, skirting around his boss to get to the fully stocked humidor across the hall.
“A cocktail?” I asked, following Rau down the stairs. “If all else fails, get him drunk? What is the guy, just a colossal bore?”
“It’s a tranquilizer,” Rau corrected, chest expanding at the scene he was walking into. “Rawling is a hardcore blood addict.”
I recognized the man in question at a glance. He was the same pinched-face weasel who disappeared behind a supply truck with Elodie. With wild eyes and glasses askew, he grasped the front of Thomas’ shirt in a white-knuckled grip. His scrawny frame quaked with the intensity of his shouts. “Please! I have money! I’ll give you anything you want. Anything! I just need to see Elodie. I’m in love with her!”
“You are, huh?” Thomas glared down his nose at Rawling, lip curling to show a hint of fang. “And when you threatened her with a silver stake, that was your devoted adoration?”
“She was trying to leave me! She can’t! We belong together … we belong …” Rawling’s caterwaul melded into a quiet chant of self-soothing.
Leaning toward Rau, I asked out of the corner of my mouth, “Does this happen often?”
“More than it should,” he grumbled. The moment his shoes connected with the white marble floor, he erased all emotion from his face and approached the twitchy addict.
“Rau!” Rawling yelped, as if seeing a flicker of hope for the first time. Red-rimmed eyes streaming with tears, a bubble of snot swelled from his nostril. “You have to help me! I need to see Elodie. We belong together. Let me have her. Let me leave with her, and we won’t bother you again. I promise! You have my word.”
“Lawrence,” Rau tsked, clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder to keep him at arm’s distance. “You were doing so well, my friend. We got you treatment, and you were walking the road of recovery. What happened?”
Collapsing against Rau’s chest, despite the vampire lord’s attempt to avoid him, Rawling peered up at him with the adoration of promised salvation. “At the camp, I saw her. I … I saw her and needed her. More than I have ever needed anything in my life.”
“You have a wife and daughter,” Rau countered. “What of their needs?”
“I’m no use to them or anyone without her,” Rawling sniveled. I would have thought it a beautiful testimony of love, had he not added, “She let me feed from her at the camp. That pull, that rush … it’s why I need her.”
Stepping back with disgust, Rau’s face folded into a frown. He glanced to Thomas, he seeking confirmation to the claim. “Your sister fed him?”
Brow furrowed, Thomas shook his head.
“I think she did,” I offered, cringing at the way Rawling drooled over me like a steak dinner. “I saw the two of them disappear together behind one of the trucks. If he keeps looking at me like that, can I bite him?”
“Not if I bite him first,” Thomas’ wide chest reverberated with a menacing growl.
“She fed me!” Rawling squawked, seemingly oblivious to our blatant threats. “She loves me, too. I know it!”
The stairs behind us creaked under Duncan’s formidable weight.
“If she truly is your one true love and heart’s desire, tell me her last name,” Rau demanded, brows lifting in expectation.
Rawling’s mouth opened and immediately snapped shut.
“Too hard a question?” Rau pressed. “Okay, how old was she when she was turned? Was it voluntary or forced? Does she have any human family members still alive?”
Again, silence was his only response.
Head bobbing, Rau acknowledged his made point. “You need to go back into a treatment program, Mr. Rawling. Do you consent?”
A sideways glance to Duncan signaled him to ready the tranquilizer.
Inching toward the door, Rawling’s leery stare darted from one to the next of the three vamps slowly surrounding him. “No! I just want a taste. Please! I don’t need a program, I just need the blood. It doesn’t even have to be her. Any of you could help me, if you would just have mercy.”
Darting around him in a blur of speed, Thomas caught Rawling in a bear hug from behind, holding him steady as Duncan moved in with the tranquilizer.
“Blood! I need the blood!” Rawling shrieked. He snapped his jaws at Thomas’ face, narrowly missing lobbing off the tip of the vamp’s nose.
Seizing his wrist, Duncan stabbed the syringe into his forearm and emptied the contents into a vein. Eyes rolling back, Rawling sagged against Thomas, who celebrated by dropping him in a heap on the floor.
“This is the society we fight so hard to be a part of!” Thomas bellowed, jabbing a hand at Rawling’s slumped frame. “One that sees us as a fetish to exploit? We’re better than them! It’s the natural order of things, the fucking food chain! Yet we muzzle ourselves just to fit into their warped and jaded world?”
“We join them, that we may make changes from within of how they view us.” Tone soft yet commanding, Rau looked on his men with the compassionate understanding of a long-felt oppression. “We cannot admit him to a treatment facility without consent. Duncan, please take him home. Tell his wife of his indiscretion and inform her that if he shows his face here again it will be viewed as trespassing and dealt with as such. Thomas, find your sister and bring her to me. She will take to the earth until the election as punishment for allowing him to feed. Vincenza and I will be in the study looking over my speeches.”
Dragging our leaden feet through the fog of melancholy that had settled into the foyer, we each went about our charade of normalcy in a world longing to devour us.
“Yes, I’m well aware he can’t vote, Finn. I’m not a complete moron. He is, however, the face of this bill. When people go to the polls, Rau needs to make an appearance. I’ll wait until just before sunset, slather him in SPF one million, and get him there to shake hands with voters. And while I’m doing that, you can do me a personal favor by crawling up your own ass.” Pausing, I barely listened to the colorful insult he threw back. “Yeah, right back at ya.”
Ending the “check-in” call with the first person on earth I deemed worthy of the title of my archnemesis, I yanked off my blue tooth headset and tossed it on the desk. The room I sat in, tucked in the back corner of the house, had once been my father’s study. Now, freshly furnished with a cherry stained desk and matching bookshelves, it had become my fortress of necessity to maintain my deep cover.
“It seems you and Finn have found a palpable level of loathing that allows you to work together without blo
odshed.” Hovering outside the office’s French doors, Carter leaned against the door jamb with his hands in his pockets. “Is that what the future holds for us?”
Wisps of blond hair fell across his forehead as his intense stare fixed on the curve of my lips.
“I don’t hate you, Carter.” Unable to maintain eye contact with him, my gaze flicked to the slew of papers decorating my desk.
Pushing off his perch, he braved the risk of crossing my threshold. “You aren’t exactly pleased with me either. Which probably has a large part to do with the fact that I’ve never said I’m sorry. And I am, truly. I agreed to help you, because I thought it would get me back in the fold so I could find Coraline. That said, I need you to know that somewhere along the line, it stopped being about that. I should have told you the truth, but—”
I halted his long-winded ramble with one raised finger. “I understand, Carter. Really. You don’t need to explain.”
Especially after what I witnessed from Rawling earlier that same night.
He dragged his hands through his hair, causing flaxen strands to dart off his head in messy spikes. “You say that, yet I really feel like I do. I was weak, I got caught up, and that’s not me. Actually, in some ways it is totally me, and I hate that. I don’t want to be that guy.”
Realizing this purging of conscious was unavoidable, I leaned back in my leather chair and turned into the spin. “Close the door.”
When he turned to oblige, I thumbed open the top three buttons of my blouse, allowing the lace camisole beneath to peek out. Spinning back around, Carter flinched in surprise, a blush of color warming his cheeks and neck.
Rising from my chair, I prowled around the desk with feline grace. “I mean it, Carter. I understand your situation. It’s all science. Right now, you’re experiencing vasodilation, or increased blood flow to your more sensitive regions. Your balls are tightening, dick twitching with primal impulse.”
“Vinx, what are you doing?” Carter asked, his voice husky with a confusing blend of desire and uncertainty.
I closed the space between us, and the rise of my breasts brushed his chest. Tipping my head back to give him a grand glimpse of the money shot, I dropped fang.
Body rigid with desire, the breath caught in his throat. “Vincenza,” he murmured, stare locked on the curve of my mouth.
“Now, the chronic beast of addiction is rearing its ugly head,” I explained, mouth teasing over his. “What you feel is bigger than want. It’s a compulsion. One that makes any potential consequences seem insignificant. With a vamp’s legs wrapped around your waist, you’re touching death. The thrill of it entices you to push farther, to delve deeper for that next fix. Personal limits mean nothing. Not a thing on earth can touch you when you’re riding that high.” Pressing into him, I pinned his back against the wall. The tip of my nose nudged his pulse point, urging his head back with a throaty moan. “Had you not got out when you did, you would have kept pushing that line until you ended up dead.” Pulling back, my stare locked with his. “Like I said, I understand what you were going through and acknowledge it as the sickness it is.”
“Th-thank you,” Carter stammered, fingers curling into the bottom hem of my blouse.
“That said,” I wove my fingers into his hair, wrenching his head back hard enough to illicit a yelp, and words tumbled from my lips in a menacing hiss, “I wasn’t ready for any of this. I plunged into this snake pit to save your stupid ass. We thought you were being tortured, or worse. Instead, you were in treatment to stop yourself from boning your way into an early grave. Micah having to be changed? That’s on you. We charged in, and shit went south. And all the while, your head was on swivel, looking for your undead booty call. So, yes, in scientific terms, I get it. But don’t, for one second, confuse that with us being okay.”
I released my hold, stumbling back to fling open the door in silent invitation for him to go.
Hanging his head, he strode toward the door, pausing before he stepped out into the hall. “You and Micah … you’re my family now. You can hate me if you want, but I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to have to make your peace with that.”
Without another word, he stalked off.
Chapter Twenty
Experiment Day 508: Effect
Election Day
Narrative Fallacy – Limited ability to look at sequences of facts without weaving an explanation into them.
Thanks so much for coming out. Whether you support our cause or not, you are doing your civil duty by being here today. Next year I hope to be standing in this line with you.” Rau Mihnea, the face of the modern-day vampire, worked his way down the line of folks patiently waiting to cast their votes. Oozing charisma and charm, he greeted each and every one of them. Not all among them were in favor of the NPI bill, but being that close to the infamous vampire was still a novelty they enjoyed. It was as close to a celebrity sighting as many of them would ever get.
To find the reality of the differing sides, one needed only to look as far as the sidewalks leading to the high school gymnasium housing the voting. The supporters were positioned on the north sidewalk. Waving their Vampire Rights banners over their heads, they chanted on a loop, “Movie monsters no more! Learn vamp history, not the lore!”
To the south were the loud and rowdy opposers with their signs that opted for graphic gore over sunshine and glitter. “Save your votes, save your lives! Don’t be a meal! Let humans survive!” Over and over they chanted, as if anything with fangs wanted a taste of their cholesterol-riddled blubber.
No, thank you.
So far, the protests had been peaceful, but tension sizzled through the air as the long shadows of twilight stretched across the ground. The scales of civility threatened to tip at any moment. Nearing the end of the line, Duncan spoke into the mic at his cuff, calling for our limo. A beat later, it glided around the corner three blocks up.
All three of the triplet’s hovered in an orbit around Rau, Elodie never wandering farther than arms distance away. A few days sleeping in the ground over her dalliance with Lawrence had her behaving like a scolded pup eager to win back favor—a situation I knew a little something about with Carter lingering at my elbow. I wanted Micah to be my plus one. She refused, making some point ladled with big words about Carter being a public figure and the benefits of having his recognizable face among us. Truth be told, I stopped listening. The setup to get us to kiss and make up wasn’t even cleverly covered up, and I was nowhere near that point. Still, in his quest to mend things, Carter kept a smotheringly protective watch, eager and itching for the chance to prove himself.
Annoying as I thought it was at the time, it was that same diligence that drew his stare to a slowing Benz with its dark tinted window sliding down. Following his stare, I noticed the glow of the streetlight, which clicked on only moments ago, gleaming off a sliver of metal that emerged.
The world slowed to a deathly crawl as Carter formed the words, “Gun! Get down!”
Elodie threw herself at Rau, forcing his head down. Shielding him with her body, she hustled the vampire lord toward our approaching ride.
Dropping fang, which earned a chorus of shrieks from the stunned crowd, Thomas hurled himself at the brandished weapon. A lone shot rang out, slamming into his left shoulder. The force of it whirled him around. Protestors and voters hit the ground, screaming and sobbing in fear as the guard’s arm exploded into smoldering ash.
“Silver bullets! Get down, stay down!” Carter hollered to anyone listening. Cocooning me in his arms, he rushed me toward the limo.
Brain moving at the speed of a turtle in peanut butter, I blinked his way in confusion. “I should be covering you. You’re human and frail.”
“Your gratitude is humbling,” Carter countered, practically dragging me to the limo as it slid up to the curb in front of us. To whoever was inside, he shouted, “Get the door open!”
Angling herself between Rau and the assailant’s car, Elodie waved us in. “Get in, I’ll keep you covered.”
Pausing, Rau glanced back, his desperate stare searching for me. “Vincenza!”
“She’s right behind you! Go!” Duncan growled. Having appeared in a flash of superhuman speed, he gave Rau an insistent shove into the car.
Forcing my head down, the mammoth guard pushed me in next, Carter following a millisecond later. Gunning the engine, the limo started moving, forcing Duncan to dive in and slam the door behind us.
Only then, in the moment that should have been dog-eared for a sigh of relief, did we realize we weren’t alone. Across from us, grinning in smug satisfaction, sat Bob Berry, Neil Rutherford, and Alfonzo Markus.
“What’s happening? What is the meaning of this?” Rau demanded, searching their faces for answers.
Unease prickled up my spine, fangs aching at the tangible threat.
“We took the liberty of making plans on your behalf.” Markus’ calm, calculating tone dripped with malintent.
Swiveling in his seat, Rau glanced back at the voting site fading into the distance. “No! We have to go back. We must ensure no bystanders were hurt.”
The rebuttal came in the form of one muffled pooft! A polished Beretta, fitted with a silencer, poked out from under Rutherford’s coat, the contents of one chamber emptied into Duncan’s barrel chest. Skin cracking and splitting, tar-black ooze seeped from the growing fissures until his body imploded, filling the cramped space with the scorching dust of his charred flesh.
The scattered embers cleared to reveal a wide smile spread across Bob Berry’s ruddy features. A malicious twinkle brightened his sinister leer. “Hi-ya, Rau. Your calendar has been cleared, my friend. Your presence has been requested for a little side trip.”
The Veiled Series Collection Page 18