Vampire Debt: Supernatural Battle (Vampire Towers Book 2)

by Kelly St Clare

  My relief was bittersweet.

  Rory gestured to the lift at the top of the stairs. “Are you going to yell at Kyros for protecting you?”

  “I don’t like yelling at him.” I frowned at my hands. “And no. In this instance—no matter that it isn’t right—I’m grateful for the interference.”

  Even though the mind of another occupant of Bluff City had to be put in chains to make it happen.

  That seemed like a slippery moral slope.

  “I’ve entered our numbers into your phone. All my brothers’ and sisters’,” Rory said as we entered the elevator.

  I shot him a wry look. “Great.”

  “It will be if your three problems decide to show.”

  I had fifty Indebted. “I don’t feel like the triplets are that smart. Their efforts are fumbling at best.”

  “And that’s how Lady Treena disables her prey.”

  Contemplative, I looked at him anew, ignoring the elevator usher. “I see.”

  They made clunky moves until they really struck. “They’re feeling me out.”

  He dipped his head. “Don’t make the same mistake so many do.”

  My lack of criminal experience put me at greater risk than anything. I had no idea how depraved they could get nor what they were most likely to attempt.

  “Thanks for the advice.”

  “Welcome.”

  I liked Rory when he forgot about appearances. Which was about as often as Gerome stopped joking around. By the time I’d rattled off a text to Laurel explaining the change of plans, vain Rory was back. He remained in charge on the short ride to Kyros Sky, schmoozing me with all manner of horrible pick-up lines. I played along to distract myself from thoughts of the triplets who could be following us at that very moment.

  What would they have done if Gina hadn’t warned me? Would I have ended up like Rhys? Chest caved in. Dead in ICU.

  Rory didn’t budge when we pulled up outside Kyros Sky. “Get out.”

  “Love you too,” I said sarcastically. “You’ll be back later?”

  I guessed Rory had to go through his own meetings in his finance tower before the siblings met at 2:00 a.m.

  “I’ll try not to miss you too much, darling.”

  Chh.

  I kept my steps even between the car and the lobby, certain the triplets were somewhere close by, but I didn’t breathe easier until the elevator doors slid shut.

  Clicking the button for Lower Level 1, I reached into my pocket to make sure the storage locker key was still there.

  I dialled Laurel upon leaving the elevator, hoping Kyros had his listening ears on.

  “Miss Le Spyre.”

  “Hey, Loz. Can you ask anyone on Lower Level 4 to meet me on Lower Level 1? I’ve got a whole bunch of house stuff in a locker here that they can have. I thought everyone could take a bit each? There should be enough to go around.”

  There was a pause. “I’m sure that would be appreciated, Miss Le Spyre. I’ll call a few Indebted to spread the word.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be in the tower until three thirty.”

  “Roger that.”

  Smiling at Kyros’s fresh irritation, I flipped the phone and slid it back into my pocket. He’d already advised against me removing my possessions from the tower. This would push his buttons well and truly. I glanced at the number on my key and, heels clicking, strode down the concrete hall lined with storage lockers until I located mine.

  I stared through the wide grates to the contents within. Reaching through the bars, I rolled the edge of my barely used duvet between my fingers. These things belonged to another Basi in what felt like another life. Trying to return things I’d brought so I could try to make rent. Clint taking my stuff. If I hadn’t failed so miserably, I wouldn’t have discovered Vissimo. I might still be living in that shithole. Or maybe Clint would’ve gone a step further. Kyros still wouldn’t have tried to seduce money out of me.

  Perhaps I would have ended up here either way.

  The stairwell exit door opened.

  I faced the male Indebted, fishing for his name. “Marcus, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Miss Le Spyre.”

  Peering past him, I saw he’d brought ten others along. “I don’t want to force this stuff on you guys, but I literally used the contents of this locker for four days and I don’t want it to go to waste. Do you think anyone on Lower Level 4 will use it?”

  He looked at me incredulously.

  “Yes!” a woman at the back called. “My towel is barely holding together.”

  Anger swirled through me. They didn’t even have fucking towels. “Is it Kristen?”

  “Kirsten, Miss Le Spyre.”

  Oops. “I apologise. Kirsten, when you’re next on a shift at my estate, can you come and speak to me? I’m certain my staff can find enough towels for everyone here.”

  She bowed low. “Thank you, miss. I will.”

  I tossed the key to Marcus. “Please make sure it’s evenly distributed. I don’t want anyone missing out.”

  He glanced at the key, then back at me. Edging closer to the grate, he inhaled deeply.

  Amusement coloured my voice. “Does it pass the sniff test, Marcus?”

  The vampire jerked away. “Of course, miss. I—”

  I gripped his arm. “I’m just kidding. Is there a problem?”

  Glancing back, he wet his lips. “It’s just that, I’m not sure the master will like us taking everything. The blanket smells like you. I-If you were mine, I wouldn’t want another male sleeping with it.”

  His face flushed red. Adorbs. I wanted to smoosh his handsome cheeks together.

  “Thank you for telling me, Marcus. How about I take the blanket then? Is everything else okay to leave with you guys?”

  The vampire ducked his head and inhaled again, moving along the locker. “Yes, miss. But we can take the blanket for you. Kirsten will pass it over to your estate guards.”

  I smiled. “I appreciate that. Walking in heels is dangerous enough without limited vision.”

  “Have you been at a party, Miss Le Spyre?” a petite brunette in the middle asked wistfully.

  She sounded young. Older Vissimo had a steadiness to their tone. And the really old ones often sounded bored.

  Holding out my dress, I swished to make the satin rustle. “Just another ball.”

  “I think any ball would be lovely to go to,” she said, drinking in my earrings and dress and the point of my gold shoes.

  There she went making me feel bad for taking things for granted. “It’s nice to dress up,” I said. “If the company was better, I’d have a great time. They’re all rich fuckers with sticks up their butts.”

  Marcus threw Kirsten a grin.

  I left them to distribute the contents of the locker. Whipping out my phone again, I dialled Angelica. Time for the cherry on top.

  “Miss Le Spyre.”

  “Angie. I need to get into my old room to grab my stuff.”

  A pause. Murmuring voices. Kyros’s anger.

  “Certainly. I’ll send someone down with the key.”

  “Air kisses, babe.” I made a few kissing noises and hung up.

  I leaned against the back of the elevator as it shot up to Level 61. A quick look in the shiny walls told me my hair was still in a flawless side-chignon courtesy of Rosie. Glowing skin was displayed from my neck to the large swell of my boobs—thank you, bodice. Loop sleeves hung loosely about my upper arms and the forest-green gown flared dramatically from my cinched waist, the material falling in folds to the floor. The piece wasn’t the most original I’d worn, but Grandmother always said I wore classics well.

  I agreed with her.

  The doors opened and I took one step before clutching the base of my throat.

  Leaning against the wall was a towering god of a man dressed to devastating effect in a cashmere suit that would bankrupt someone in Orange.

  His green eyes were wide. His throat worked as he took me in.

  In silence
.

  Not a peep.

  Was Kyros struck speechless? I stepped off the elevator. “Kyros.”

  “I’ll remember the sight of you in that dress to my dying day,” he said quietly.

  The fervent marvel behind his words took my breath away.

  Not sure of my ability to talk, I closed the space between us, sliding the key to my old room from his grip.

  Disappointment panged between us, and I couldn’t be sure if it was all his.

  I shook my head and began walking to my old room. “Your father was pretty clear. And I think he’s right.”

  His heat was at my back. “No, you don’t.”

  Dang. “No comment.”

  “If you did agree with him, arriving at my tower while looking like a goddess was a terrible choice.”

  I tensed as he twirled me back, pressing me against a random door. His warm hands slid down my arms, pinning them by my sides. A groan slipped from him as the action pushed my breasts higher.

  “Your nipples are just below the edge,” he whispered, gaze firmly on the low neckline of my dress.

  His want was intoxicating. Hypnotising.

  I turned my head away, eyes squeezed shut as I tried to control my response.

  “Don’t turn away, my beauty. That’s for others. Never me.”

  Kyros drew my face back.

  My breath hitched as I tipped my head back to meet his meadow-green gaze.

  “Do you understand?” he asked.

  I lifted a hand and traced his bottom lip. He sucked my forefinger into his mouth and I jerked violently.

  With blurring speed, he took hold of my wrist, trailing his nose over my pulse. “I asked if you understood, Basilia.”

  His hooded gaze settled on my breasts again.

  I clenched my jaw, trying to rein in the heaving of my breaths. “Sometimes you’re too much to look at, Kyros. So no, I’m not agreeing to that.”

  He grinned, and the change was blinding. My heart squeezed and I just forgot everything.

  Coming down to land was sobering. And frightening.

  This isn’t part of the plan. Or was it? I didn’t know anymore.

  “Move. I need to get my stuff before my shift.”

  His fangs lengthened, and his grip on my wrist tightened.

  Seriously?

  “Move, please?” I said impatiently.

  Kyros flipped my hand and pressed a kiss to the back. My hand was scientifically attached to my vagina somehow. It had to be. I’d had foreplay that didn’t feel half as good.

  “Your possessions are in my quarters.” Straightening, the vampire prince dropped my hand and strode back the way we’d come.

  I stared after him, jaw dropping. “What do you mean they’re in your lair?”

  He didn’t answer.

  That fucker!

  Maybe this suited my strategy just fine, but it was hard to recall that as I stomped after him. “Heels aren’t meant for running, you jerk!”

  Kyros was waiting in the elevator, face smoothed of the amusement I could feel.

  I slammed both hands out to stop the doors closing, breath coming fast. Did I say I liked bodices? I lied.

  “Why did you move my stuff?” I gasped.

  He tilted his head, eyes on my bosom. “My tower. Don’t need a reason.”

  “Has anyone ever drawn size comparisons between your ego and this building?”

  Blurring forward, Kyros yanked me against him and retreated into the elevator once more. I struggled until that began to feel too good.

  He crossed my arms over my body and my breasts popped up again.

  Kyros growled, frustration filling him.

  “Are you trying to force my nipples out?” I said, outrage swelling.

  His face hardened and he set me down, striding to the far corner. “That dress is fucking lethal, vixen.”

  That’s a yes.

  Near boiling point, I pulled out my phone when it chimed, reading the text from Laurel.

  Got your blanky

  Grinning, I typed back:

  Bitch <3 <3

  Kyros jabbed the button for Level 65. “Who are you texting?”

  “None of your business.” I slipped my phone away.

  His gaze narrowed.

  “It wouldn’t be the caveman that Rory mentioned in his text earlier this evening?”

  I edged to stand in front of the doors. “So what if it is?”

  The vampire pinned me with his stare, and suddenly the elevator was nowhere near big enough for the two of us.

  Ding!

  I almost ran to get off the lift, forgetting that Kyros at my back was the most uncomfortable feeling ever. He followed me to his office at a leisurely pace, footsteps echoing. On purpose. Because I damn well knew he could move silently as a shadow.

  My flighty response was turning him on big time, and like some twisted positive feedback system, his reaction turned me on.

  I threw open his office door and marched into the large, bland office space, beelining for the desk. I flung back the password panel for him, then continued to the far wall.

  His amusement trickled through our bond as he punched in the long-ass code, and I sent him an extra-strong dose of ire, maintaining it as I climbed the stairs to his private rooms.

  Ugh.

  I hadn’t been here since finding a bag of blood with my name on it in his fridge.

  He was behind me, so I hurried to the fridge and ripped it open.

  One bag left.

  “The shelf was nearly full,” I said, covering my discomfort. “How much blood do you need?”

  Fisting my hands in my satin skirts, I whirled to stare at him. He closed the door to the lair. “The correct question would be how much blood do I need now that I’ve completed three exchanges with you. I’m happy to tell you if you let me know who the spy in the tower is.”

  I… What? “I never found the spy.”

  His eyes glinted. “I believe you wanted to ensure the spy was indeed the spy.”

  “Yes. And I didn’t exactly get time after finding my blood in your fridge,” I replied sarcastically. “I’ll work on it when I next get time.”

  Kyros didn’t accept that one bit. “I need to drink three times my usual at the moment.”

  His subject changes would give me whiplash one day. And the fucker did it entirely on purpose.

  “What happens when you run out of my blood?” I asked after closing the fridge.

  He crossed to the kitchen, filling two glasses with water. “I’m fairly certain that drinking your blood is the only thing giving me some shred of control around you.”

  Good. “My blood in particular?”

  Kyros’s nostrils flared. “Yes.”

  My hand crept to my throat. “Don’t look at me like I’m a strawberry mojito, Kyros. I’m not giving you more. You’ll need to sort out your control issues some other way. Your dad was crystal clear.”

  I spotted my Elegance pack on the dresser and ignored the glass of water he held out. Crossing, I riffled through the pack. Razor, body wash, moisturiser, two sets of clothing, flats, sandals, bank cards, and cash. Everything was here.

  As I hoisted the bag, my eyes fell on what lay next to it. The broken pieces of the pinecone I’d gifted Kyros.

  After I’d hurled it against the wall, he’d picked up the pieces and put them up here? I forced my eyes away. “Okay, thanks. I’ll be going now.”

  I trailed off as Kyros crossed and gently took my bag, setting it on the bed.

  Hooking an arm around my waist, he drew me to the round sofa where we’d completed our second blood exchange. He kept a firm grip on my hand as he shuffled back on the couch.

  Pain suffused my chest.

  This sofa was the only homey thing in the minimalist apartment. Kyros relaxed here after a hard day. We’d had a real moment on this couch in the past. Or one I thought was real at the time.

  Being back up here hurt. Sitting on this couch with him would hurt more.
<
br />   “Please let me hold you for a moment, Basilia.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip, a similar loneliness to what I’d felt the last several weeks hit me. A pain over our separation. Bitterness at how things had ended. Anger and hurt. Regret.

  None of that stopped me crawling onto the massive chair—but my ball gown did. Kyros leaned forward and gripped my waist, lifting and depositing me on his lap in a puff of satin.

  Heart in a vice, I slowly rested my cheek against his chest.

  Our breathing synced, enough for the two chutes of champagne I’d consumed to lull me into calm. That’s the explanation I’d stick to anyway. I’d conveniently ignore that I hadn’t felt this tranquil and safe since Grandmother died.

  Kyros dropped a kiss on the top of my head. “What if there wasn’t a game?”

  I inhaled where I remained tucked against him.

  He continued. “You told me that you felt unsafe because of Ingenium. What if there wasn’t a game? Where would you stand then?”

  “Is that likely with the massive bluff you guys are playing?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  Good to know. “I don’t really understand how that works. Are you guys waiting for Mr Ringly’s drug addiction to come to light or what?”

  Kyros inhaled my scent, a dreamy feeling filling him. “For a decade, Mr Ringly has pushed for his land space to become residentially zoned, entering into steadily more debt with the council fees attached to that process. We’ve watched him since he submitted the DA—never expecting the development plan to be approved. Now, we’re applying financial pressure to his drug dealer to repay her debt—that pressure then falls upon her clients to pay their tab. We control the bank where his loan is held—as soon as he fails payment, we’ll seize his land. There’s also the option of alerting the police to his stash, but Mr Ringly is close to breaking point, and we’ll have use for him in the future.”

  I hummed. “I feel bad for him. He can’t have any idea why all these crappy things are happening to him. Poor guy must feel vulnerable.”

  “Is that how you feel?”