by J. R. Ward
What was his father up to, Peyton thought. Of all the families they might want to associate with, why these people?
Then again, the Founding Families in Caldwell were aware of Peyton's reputation. Maybe this wasn't so much the best his father could do...as the best the son could do.
"Well?" Idina of the Libido prompted. "Tell me everything about them."
Fuck this shit.
Peyton turned around and looked at the young female.
This shut everyone in the room up, a hushed disapproval slamming the door shut on all that social drooling.
The daughter recoiled, but then she collected herself quickly, shifting her stare downward as was appropriate considering his social faux pas: They had not yet been properly introduced.
She was lovely in a low key kind of way, her beauty not the sort that grabbed the eye immediately, but rather something that was revealed the more you stared at her. Her features were even and small, her limbs long and graceful, her body in that soft blue dress possessing all the curves a male could want.
A slight flutter off to the side drew his attention. It was her hands...her hands were shaking--and as if she didn't want him to notice that, she clasped them together in her lap.
What have you done to deserve me, you poor thing, he thought.
"I'm Peyton," he said, much to his father's horror.
As he spoke up, the female's eyes lifted to his, and there was surprise in them. But she immediately glanced to her parents.
Her sire cleared his throat with a disapproving grunt--like he wished this were going better, but knew he had no right to expect shit in that department.
And then he muttered, "This is my daughter, Romina."
English, not the Old Language. An insult to which one of us? Peyton wondered.
In any event, he bowed low. "My pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Before he straightened, he tried to communicate with her telepathically: It's going to be okay. We're going to get out of this.
As if they were both prisoners.
Take out the "as if."
And clearly, they were on death row, at least in the female's opinion. The girl was flat-out terrified.
As Saxton stood beside the open sliding door of his penthouse, he didn't feel the freezing cold or the punches of the wind gusts or the hunger that had been agitating his belly. The male before him took all of that away, Ruhn's big body tensed as if he were ready to bolt off the top of the Commodore, his hair blowing asunder, his eyes too bright and very wary. But that scent...that scent.
Dark spices. Arousal.
Sexual need.
What fantasy is this, Saxton wondered. Was he asleep and dreaming?
"Don't go," he said in a rough voice. Except then he caught himself and tried to pull back from a tone that was too close to begging. "I mean, come in and tell me what happened. At Minnie's. Please."
Ruhn's stare shifted so that he seemed to focus on the interior.
"There's no one here but me." Saxton stepped back even farther. "We're alone."
Dear God, why did that sound like an invitation?
Because it was.
"Stop it--" As he realized he'd spoken aloud, he closed his eyes and tried to pull himself together. "Sorry. Please, it's cold."
Or maybe it was sweltering hot. Who the hell knew.
"All right," Ruhn said in a low voice.
As the big male turned sideways and came in, Saxton couldn't keep from closing his eyes and inhaling. He had never smelled anything so sensual in his life. Ever.
With shaky hands, he closed them both in together by pulling the glass back into place. "I was...well, I was just going to make--would you like some coffee?"
Ruhn looked around and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm fine. Thank you."
"Won't you sit down?"
"This shouldn't take long."
And yet the male did not start to speak. He stayed there right by the exit, his boots planted on the pale gray rug, his black leather jacket and blue jeans making a mockery of all the carefully constructed minimalism around him, a giant in a dollhouse.
"Tell me what happened?" Saxton went across and sat down on his sofa. "Is anything wrong?"
Ruhn seemed to take a deep breath, his chest expanding so much that that jacket creaked. "I went out there, to the farmhouse, to make sure Mistress Miniahna was all right. There was a truck parked in the driveway, just before the circle in front of the house. Black, with darkened windows. I waited, and after a moment, two human males got out and looked at the trees. One had a sensor in his hand."
"They know we removed the cameras."
"Yes." Ruhn put his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "They do."
"And?"
"Well, I couldn't just leave with them there."
Here we go, Saxton thought.
"What did you do?"
"I dematerialized around to the back and approached them as if I were coming around the house. The men were surprised. I told them I was staying with my aunt and was out chopping wood when I heard them come up the lane. I asked them what they were doing on the property. One said he and his buddy were concerned for her, what with her being all alone. When I pointed out that she wasn't alone, that I was there, they said they knew she lived by herself. Then they went on about how the neighborhood was really changing and that she should consider selling. I told them that there was no more reason to worry about her as I was going to take care of things at the house and that I would deal with any trespassers. Then I asked them what their names were and why they were on the property at all, and that was when things got interesting."
"Did they threaten you, too?"
"They gave me these." He pulled out some papers that had been folded in quarters. "And told me that they were for Mistress Miniahna. They had tried the front door during the day a number of times, they said."
Saxton sat forward and held out his hand. "Did you show these to her?"
"I can't read." Ruhn came forward only far enough to give whatever it was over and then he immediately dropped back. "As I didn't know what they were, I didn't want to show her something that would upset her for no good reason. I wasn't sure what to do for the best. That's why I called you."
Saxton unfolded things, and a quick scan got him right up off the cushions onto his feet. Then he paced around as he did a more careful read.
"What is it?" Ruhn asked.
Saxton stopped and looked over at the male. "They're accusing her of being a squatter."
"How? It's her property."
"It is, but she and her hellren made a mistake with the property records. I discovered it late last night. They didn't file redundant real property contracts over time."
"What is that?"
"It's a strategy for vampires who hold real estate in the human world. Every twenty years or so, generally, you want to pretend that you've sold your house or your land to what appears to be a fellow family member. Otherwise, you have what Miniahna is going to have to deal with here--which is that the records show a single owner since 1821. Needless to say, that is impossible for a human to pull off, and clearly, the developer has discovered the issue, even as he cannot guess the truth about our species. Anyway, tell me--did you wait for them to leave? The humans?"
"Yes. They took off right after they gave me those." Ruhn frowned. "Can you do anything to help her?"
Saxton walked into the kitchen area and went straight for the coffee machine. As he poured himself some Starbucks Breakfast Blend, his mind was racing.
Backdating documents. Yes, he had to create an artificial paper trail--
When he turned around, he caught Ruhn wincing as the male gripped under his arm and seemed to stretch his torso.
"Are you all right?" Saxton asked.
"Just fine."
"Then why are you looking as if you're in pain."
"It doesn't matter."
"It does to me."
Ruhn opened his mouth. Closed it. Opene
d it again.
Saxton shook his head sadly. Abruptly, he was tired, horny, and totally confused by the male--oh, and he was truly pissed off at the human race and its meddling ways. So, indeed, he was done with being socially appropriate and polite.
"Look," he muttered, "whatever it is, just say it. We're working together, right? And I don't want you involved in all this if you're compromised."
There was a long silence. And then Ruhn re-crossed his arms over his chest with mostly no grimace. "I've always known you didn't approve of me."
Saxton recoiled. "I beg your pardon?"
--
"I don't see what the problem is."
As Novo spoke, she tried to look as strong and powerful as she could. Okay, fine, so she was still in her hospital bed with wires and tubing in places she would really prefer to be wire-less and tube-lacking, and she was, in fact, wearing a johnny that had little pink bouquets of flowers all over it, but damn it, she was perfectly fine.
And she had every right to--
"You're not leaving this facility." Dr. Manello stood over her and smiled like he held all the cards. "I'm sorry."
To keep from throat-punching the human, she looked down at herself...and blamed those frickin' rosebuds that were all over her johnny. Why couldn't the hospital gowns have prints of, like, Deadpool's mask. Knives. Bombs with the wicks lit. Vials of poison.
"No, you're not sorry," she bitched.
"You're right, I don't give a shit that you're pissed off at me. What I care about is your heart. Now, I'll spare you the be-a-good-little-girl speech, because I don't want to get castrated--but do me a favor and don't screw up all my nice knit-one-purl-two and stay where you are, 'kay."
"I feel fine."
"You passed out going to the bathroom."
"I got dizzy, that was all."
"I found you on the floor, in a heap."
"I had my IV still in."
"But not your catheter, which you had taken out yourself." He put his palm up to stop her from arguing. "Tell you what, I'll award you the Patient of the Night trophy for all your efforts. Congratulations, your prize is a jelly donut and a whole lot of going-absolutely-nowhere."
Novo grunted and tried to link her arms over her chest--when that caused an arrhythmia that made some alarm go off, she had to let them sulk back down to either side of her body.
"I'm fine."
"No, you will be fine." Dr. Manello went around and reset whatever monitor had started talking. "In another night or two. Provided you stay put."
"FYI, I'm giving this establishment a really crappy Yelp review."
"I would be honored." The doctor put his hand on his heart and bowed. "Thank you--oh, and your mother called."
Novo went to sit up and hissed before collapsing back. "My mother?"
"Yeah, she'd been trying to reach you? She was afraid you were dead. Needless to say, I told her you were breathing. Didn't mention that I knew that because of an oxygen sensor clipped to your finger, but at least I was confident that I was giving her accurate information."
Novo tried to look like she didn't care. But that fucking alarm, the one connected to her fucking heart, started going off again.
"What did she say? I mean, what did you tell her?" She shut her lids. "Not that I got hurt, right?"
"I'm not authorized to report on the condition of my patients." He leaned over to whatever was beep-beep-beep'ing and silenced things again. "I informed her you were in class for the rest of the night. But you may want to call her when you feel up to it."
How's never, on that one? "Can you give me a doctor's note that says I don't have to."
"Will you promise to stay in bed?"
"Sure, but I'm pretty certain that's something I'll break."
"Fair enough. Quick question. If you don't want to hop on the horn with your family's version of Carol Brady, I'm not sure her getting a note from your surgeon is going to de-escalate whatever is going on, am I right?"
"Look, Doc, if you're going to continue to be logical and reasonable, I'm going to have to ask you to reassign my case to a crazy person."
"Right, 'cuz why be difficult when you can be perfectly unreasonable."
"Exactly."
Dr. Manello smiled and then headed for the door. Before he opened the way out, he hesitated. "Is everything okay in your family?" He held up his palm again. "You don't have to go into specifics if you don't want to. It's just...she was worked up, and it's very clear you're avoiding her."
"My mother is always worked up about something--and usually it's my sister. Who's getting mated. As her bridesmaid--oh, sorry, I guess I'm the honor maid, or something?--I'm supposed to be planning things, not doing my job to protect the species. Yeah, 'cuz really, picking out dresses and organizing a goddamn bachelorette night out is more important than fighting lessers."
"I didn't know vampires did that kind of shit. Bridal showers and stuff."
"We don't. My sister needs all the attention in the world, however, so one species' traditions are not enough for her. She needs two."
"What a charmer." Her surgeon smiled even more, his handsome face crinkling at the eyes and around his mouth. "And may I just say, in a totally non-creepy way, that you are going to look fantastic in bows and ribbons. Especially if they are the color of bubble gum."
Novo closed her eyes with a groan. "Can you just knock me out?"
"Nah, I'm afraid if I hit you in the face, the rest of your classmates will beat my ass."
"I was talking drugs."
"Ah, where's the fun in that." The man got serious. "You rest up. If you're stable by the time the night's over, I'll consider letting you go home, 'kay?" As Novo flipped her lids back open, he glared at her. "But you have to feed. I don't care who from, and that is mandatory."
After the doctor left, Novo thought about the bride-ette night, or whatever you call it, and decided she should take all those females to The Keys.
Yup, surprise! It's a sex club! Now get your nipple clips on there, young ladies, and go find yourself a glory hole.
As she pictured her sister trying to make it through just the wait line, she had to laugh--and the sharp-shooter that came in response made her worry that she had sprung herself a leak.
No alarms, though. Just the regular beeping that seemed to suggest some kind of circulation was happening on a regular basis--
All at once, she was back in that empty cold house, on the bathroom floor, bleeding from between her legs. Pain, different than now, was deep in her belly, twisting her like a rag until she thought she would snap in two.
No medical help then. No nice doctor with a sharp wit and kind eyes, no medical equipment, no drugs. No clear understanding of what was happening to her until something had come out of her.
Her young. Not alive, although perfectly formed.
There had been so much blood. She had been sure she was going to die.
Fate had had other plans for her. In fact, she had lived. It turned out that just because you wanted to gain entrance unto the Fade didn't mean you were granted what you prayed for. No, she had survived, but she had never been whole again.
Wait...that was wrong. She hadn't been whole even before the miscarriage had happened, and afterward? How could she not blame herself for the loss. Her body had failed her young, had let that innocent being down--
No, not her body. Her mind, her character. She had been so distraught over Oskar leaving her for Sophy that her emotional meltdown had caused the miscarriage: She had not been strong enough for her young, hard enough, tough enough. She had failed.
"Stop it," she snapped. "Just...fucking stop."
To get her mind off the past, she focused on getting herself the hell out of the clinic. Feeding, she thought. She needed to get the feeding thing arranged.
With a grunt--that suggested the doc had a point about the whole not-yet thing--she reached out to the rolling table closest to her. Batting away the can of ginger ale, the rose-colored plastic bedpan, the Kleenex
box, and the remote to the TV she had yet to turn on, she finally grabbed her phone.
Her ringer had been off when she'd been in the field, and what a good choice someone had made in not turning that back on. As she triggered the screen, there was a raft of texts. A lot were from her fellow trainees...there was one from John Matthew...and a couple from the Brothers. Also one from Rhage looking to see when she would be well enough to give a statement about what had happened in the alley.
And then about...oh, seven hundred and fifty from her sister.
As well as some voicemails from the female. And their mahmen.
Novo closed her eyes as she felt like screaming. Then she refocused. Feeding. She needed to feed.
And on that subject, now would be a great time to make good choices, she told herself. She needed to hit up Craeg, Axe, or Boone and ask one of them if they could help her out.
Yup. She was just going to text one of those guys, and she knew they would come as soon as they could arrange transportation. And then she would be one more step closer to having this all behind her--and a step further away from complications she could do without.
Read: Peyton and his blue-blooded vintage.
Yup, she was going to hit up Craeg...
Or Axe...
Or...Boone.
They were going to do just fine, she told herself as she signed into her phone. Just fine and dandy.
After Ruhn spoke up, he fell silent and really wished that he hadn't said anything. Actually, wait, what he would have preferred was not to have come here at all. Because if the latter had been true, then the former never would have been a problem.
I've always known you didn't approve of me.
Had he really said that? "Never mind, it is hardly relevant--"
"What gave you the idea I disapproved of you?"
"I should not have brought this up."
"No, I'm glad you did." Saxton shook his head. "We need to talk this out. I'm trying to see how I could ever have given you that impression."
For a moment, Ruhn got too busy falling into those gray eyes, those big, beautiful pearl-gray eyes. He loved the way they looked up at him, the thick lashes framing that stare, the brows arching perfectly, the head tilted in polite inquiry...