by Jess Haines
“If you had even a fraction of the experience I have had with such things,” he said, “you would wonder at my mercy. Thank your influence for that. Before that unfortunate incident with the sorcerer, I would have taken them as spoils and sold them to the highest bidder to recoup my costs for retrieving what is rightfully mine.”
I gasped. My eyes popped open and I pushed his hand away from my face. While I knew he had the capacity to be callous, that was a bit much to hear, particularly on the heels of his latest actions.
Not to mention being reminded of how I had become contracted to him, about the times he had been under a crazy magic user’s influence and tried to kill me, was totally unexpected. He rarely, if ever, brought it up. Neither of us did considering how terrible the circumstances were behind how we met. Until now, it had been nothing but a bad memory that lingered between us like a fart in an elevator; noticed, but politely ignored and unremarked. Using it as a way to make me accept twisting the minds and hearts of innocent people wasn’t doing him any favors, that was for sure.
His fingers snaked around my wrist, keeping me from pulling away as he continued.
“Since you had no way of knowing otherwise, perhaps it will ease your conscience to know that the bargain I struck with those other vampires in return for their aid requires these additions to their food supply to be temporary. They are bound by the terms of our agreement to offer the opportunity for the humans to dissolve the contracts and return to their families after a suitable length of time passes for any scarring to be explained away.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you serious? Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“I’ll admit,” he said, a ghost of that familiar, teasing smile returning, “I wanted to see if you could stand by to let me do what was necessary without interfering. You doubted and you disagreed, but you recognized the danger and let me do what needed to be done. Call it a test of sorts.”
I hit him as best I could, which hurt like hell since it was the wrist I had sprained in the fight against Max. He didn’t budge, though it did put a crease in his otherwise immaculate shirt. “You asshole!”
“One who saved your life. Perhaps a thank you is in order, hmm?”
“Fine. Thank you, asshole.”
Gideon gave my shoulder a companionable pat, making me jump. I had forgotten he was there. “Cheer up, buttercup. He’s just getting you ready for the lifetimes ahead of hard choices.”
Royce gave him a withering look that would have sent me running had I been the one at the receiving end. The necromancer shrugged and leaned his butt against the arm of the chair, invading my personal space and giving no sign that he was picking up the ahem-private-conversation-is-supposed-to-be-private vibes we were giving him.
“Perhaps,” the vampire said once it became clear Gideon wasn’t getting the hint, his tones silky and dangerous, “you should consider occupying yourself elsewhere until I am ready to deal with you.”
Gideon shrugged. “I’m not about to wander around a vampire’s den without being introduced to the household first. Your people will either tear me to shreds or force me to defend myself in ways that will get me into trouble. I’ll keep my ass planted right here, if you don’t mind.”
As a born and bred New Yorker, I’ve honed my skills to a fine art at saying “fuck you” with no more than a look. Gideon ignored my sour expression as he put an arm around my shoulder and turned a pointed look on the vampire. I wrinkled my nose even more when I got a good whiff of him. Ugh, he needed another shower something awful. Airport smells did nothing to improve his natural odor of preservative chemicals with a heaping side of dead things.
Royce frowned, but gave a sharp nod, rising and pulling a slim cell phone from his back pocket. He tapped out a text message, waited a few moments for a reply, and then put the phone back in his pocket. With that, he returned his attention to the necromancer draping himself over me.
“One of my progeny will be along in a moment to show you to a room.”
“Great,” Gideon replied with a notable lack of enthusiasm. “So when are we going to discuss the terms of my employment? My ex-lover isn’t going to be too thrilled with me for my part in killing his sire or running off without a good-bye kiss.”
Royce stilled. Though I might have missed it if I hadn’t been watching his features so carefully, there was a flicker of something I hadn’t expected there.
Sorrow.
It was gone before I could be certain that I had seen it. His tone remained brusque and nonchalant, with a light garnish of irritation on the side. “Max was a fool without vision if he thought he could control someone of your power. I am under no such illusions. Your presence here requires some preparation, so you’ll forgive me for taking the time to make the appropriate adjustments to my security before I commit to assigning you a detail or any responsibilities.”
Gideon tugged one of my curls, frowning at the vampire as he directed his question to me. “Does he always talk like that?”
“When he doesn’t want to make a promise he can’t keep, yeah,” I replied.
“Or he thinks he can’t trust who he’s dealing with,” another cheerful voice added. Gideon and I both twisted around to see Ken sauntering our way, his blond hair slicked back and his pinstripe suit immaculately pressed. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
Royce shook his head, reaching out to stop Ken before he could shake the necromancer’s offered hand. “Careful, now. Ken, this is Gideon. Gideon, this is Ken Alcantra, one of my progeny and the managing director of my nightclubs.”
Ken’s bright blue eyes widened, then briefly flickered with a red light. Whether from excitement or fear, I couldn’t tell. “The necromancer? I’ll be damned.”
Gideon withdrew the hand he’d offered, slumping against me like he’d meant to do it all along. I scowled at him and poked him in the chest, but he didn’t take the hint.
“Ken, since you’re at loose ends until the clubs are restored, I’d like for you to show Gideon around and make him feel welcome.”
“Are you sure that’s ...” Ken trailed off, and this time I was sure it was fear that did it. He knew the danger Gideon represented to him, but he also had to know that finishing that sentence could end very badly for him.
Gideon batted his lashes, doing a spectacular job of failing to appear innocent. “I promise I won’t misbehave. Not unless you want me to.”
Royce lifted a hand to rub his eyes. Mine had rolled so far that I could see the back of my skull.
Ken, on the other hand, flashed his fangs. “I’m not afraid of you. Touch me and I’ll finish whatever someone else started on your neck there.”
“Nice. Real nice. Hey, masturbating is supposed to relieve stress, so how about you go fuck yourself and come back when you feel better? Give me the grand tour when you aren’t about to piss yourself.”
“Ken, Gideon,” Royce cut in, voice sharp, “that’s enough. This is my home, and you will be civil.”
A bit of red brought some color into the blond vampire’s paper-white skin, right at the height of his razor-sharp cheekbones. Huh. Who knew vampires could blush?
“Right. Sorry.”
Gideon rose, giving my shoulder another pat before offering his hand—the one without the tattoo—to Ken. “I’m sorry, too. Sometimes I let my mouth run. Let’s start over, shall we?”
Though reluctant, at Royce’s nod, Ken accepted and shook Gideon’s hand. The set of his shoulders eased once it became clear the necromancer wasn’t doing it in an effort to bespell him.
Before Ken could lead him away, Royce spoke up. “There is one other matter that needs to be attended to before you go.”
Gideon tilted his head as he was addressed, a flicker of fear passing through the necromancer’s eyes when he saw the intensity of the older vampire’s gaze. “You can’t twist my thoughts like those sheeple.”
“No, I can’t. Not that I have any desire to do such a thing. But you did agree to be bound.”
&
nbsp; The necromancer took an involuntary step back, hunching his shoulders and bowing his head. It was odd, but just then it struck me how very young he looked, like a scared and lonely teenager. I had thought he must have been ageless, like the vampires, but maybe he was younger than I thought and hid his lack of experience behind bravado. Whatever pangs of concern I might have had for him didn’t matter. I didn’t trust him to behave himself without someone making him do it, so I wasn’t about to interfere. The bond and Royce’s influence were probably the only reason he was going to let Sara go.
“When the bond is set, it will free you from your ties to Fabian. As long as you uphold your end of the bargain, you have my word I will keep you safe.”
Gideon took a shaky breath to steady himself, then lifted his gaze. With a visible effort, he lowered his arms to his side and squared his shoulders, nodding as he forced himself to put on a brave face. He chose his fate. Circumstances might have brought him to a terrible place, but he was strong—stronger than I had been when in his shoes—and Royce would never be so cruel to him as he had been to Sara.
Remembering what he had done to her made it a lot easier to ignore any lingering apprehension I might have harbored for his safety and well-being.
Royce lifted his free hand to his mouth, using a fang to slash a crimson streak on his thumb. He then held the small wound out to Gideon.
The necromancer leaned in to lick the thin line of blood, doing his best not to touch any more of Royce than he had to. He grimaced as he swallowed, then made a gagging noise, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I’ll never get used to that.”
Royce chuckled in a way that made my skin crawl. “Give it time. You’ll develop a taste for it soon enough.”
Already the blood was visibly at work in Gideon, his eyes taking on a feverish glow that had nothing to do with his inner spark. He sidled closer, studying the vampire with the kind of lustful, appraising gaze that made my muscles twitch with the desire to put myself between them.
Jealous? Me? Perish the thought.
Royce laughed again, a bit more heartily this time, before turning to scoop me up into his arms. Though Gideon hardly seemed to notice that the vampire wasn’t paying him any mind, still staring fixedly at Royce’s face like he could will the vampire’s attention on himself, I gave a little shriek at the unexpectedness of being picked up. He buried his nose against my throat, breathing deep, making me squirm and pull at his hair to make him stop.
He did pull back, though his puzzled expression threw me for a loop. Whatever might have been bothering him, he didn’t say anything about it, instead returning his attention to the necromancer eagerly awaiting a command.
“It would please me greatly for you to take on the task of guarding Ms. Waynest when I am unavailable to do it myself. Will you do that for me?”
Gideon nodded, still staring at Royce without blinking. It was reaching the point of creepy with a side of stalkerish. I vividly remembered how that blood-fueled obsession felt, so I didn’t hold it against him, but it still made me feel better to slide a possessive arm around Royce’s neck. Ken, on the other hand, was watching all this with some trepidation. He was probably wondering if Royce’s blood would keep the necromancer from doing anything rash, like turning the younger vampire into a puppet at some inopportune moment.
“Good. Ken will get you a meal and direct you to a place to sleep. Let him know what supplies you’ll need to remove the familiar bond from Ms. Halloway tomorrow, and get some rest.”
Though Gideon made no effort to hide his disappointment, he did as he was told. Shoulders slumped, he kept half an eye on Royce as Ken led him to the door that everyone else had left out of earlier. And walked into the frame.
I flinched on Gideon’s behalf, even though he barely seemed to notice, adjusting his course and slinking out of the room in Ken’s wake. Poor bastard. For the couple of days that followed, he’d be pining for Royce’s next command something awful, finding as many excuses as he could to put himself in the presence of the vampire. Hoping for a look, a touch, a word of praise—anything that acknowledged his existence and gave him a reason for living.
He may not have deserved it, but in that moment, he had my pity.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Royce’s lips grazed my temple, a cold breath raising the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. “Now that we’re alone, care to explain how you managed to cure the infection in your blood?”
I frowned up at him. “Really? That’s the first thing you want to ask me about?”
“Far from it, but at the moment I consider it the most pressing issue.”
He grinned, wide and deliberate, so there was no way I could miss the extended fangs inches from my neck. Suppressing a shiver, I huffed and poked his chest. “Mister, you are about two seconds away from being banished to the couch. Or me banishing myself there, since this is your house,” I amended. “Or where you’re staying. Whatever.”
“Really? You don’t want to spend a single night with me to catch up for all that time we were apart?”
“Well, when you put it that way . . .”
With another laugh, he started walking toward a hallway I hadn’t noticed at the far end of the room, carrying me with him. “I thought so. Now, care to answer my question? You smell ... different. Like you did when I first met you. It’s been teasing at me all night but I didn’t want to bring it up in front of the others. Tell me—what happened?”
That sobered me. I bowed my head, not wanting to look at him while I talked about this. “You remember the Other I told you about? The collared one? She healed me. In exchange, I made a promise to return something of hers to someone she called the Sleeper.”
“The Sleeper? Did she give it any other name?”
I shook my head. “No. I know it’s a woman. Or female, whatever it is. If you don’t know where I can find her, maybe Arnold will.”
Royce said nothing, considering this for a time as he navigated the twists and turns of the hallway. At the end of it, he typed a code into a keypad, and a heavy oak door swung open, revealing a stairwell going down. It gave me a bit of vertigo as he carried me down the stairs, so I shut my eyes, suppressing what I knew was a completely irrational worry about being dropped, and a deeper anxiety about being trapped.
Once we reached the bottom, I cracked open an eye, then both, taking in the splendor. It was like a hotel suite. A really posh, nicely appointed, underground hotel suite. There were no windows, but the huge TV hanging on one wall and artwork strategically placed elsewhere made it easy to forget. Unlike upstairs, the furniture here was overstuffed, plush and inviting. Still tasteful, still expensive, but more for everyday use than simple looks.
Being underground again sent a fearful pang through me, but these circumstances were different. So very different. If only my screaming instincts believed that.
Perhaps sensing my growing apprehension, Royce stopped, waiting until I looked up at him to speak. His voice was low, soothing, and he must have been messing with my head because the urge to fight my way out of his arms to flee faded far too quickly. “You are safe. No one can reach you here.”
“You really need to stop that,” I scolded, though there wasn’t any heat to it.
He nodded, but it didn’t stop him from exerting enough control over me to keep me from giving in to the looming panic attack. The worry was still there, but it had lost its substance, like I was separated from it by a great distance. Once he reached his bedroom, he set me down, hands settling on my waist as he leaned in to press a light kiss to my forehead.
“I’ll try to contain myself. And I’m sorry to ask, but I want to make sure the infection is gone and see what else may have changed. I know you trusted Iana, but I would like to be certain. May I?”
Another pang of terror gave me a jolt, but if it meant being sure, I would let him do whatever was necessary. Closing my eyes tight, I nodded.
He drew me close, lips brushing over my cheek
until he reached my own, settling into a slow, sensuous kiss that did a great job of taking my mind off what was coming. Clutching his shoulders, I leaned into him, doing my best to forget every last iota of regret and fear and shame that had been haunting me these last few weeks. One of his hands settled at my lower back, the other rubbing lightly up and down my spine.
Once the worst of the tension eased out of my shoulders, he pulled back just a bit, whispering against my lips. “Just a taste. Relax.”
He dipped his head to reach my neck, and I shivered at the delicious stroke of his tongue over my pulse point, pressing closer to him. Though I should have been afraid, even though I knew what he was about to do, my knees still turned to jelly as hot desire burned through my veins.
He nipped my throat, and after a light pinch, the toe-curling pleasure of his bite washed over me. It didn’t last very long, though my interest in tearing his clothes off skyrocketed in the brief time he sucked my blood. Every swipe of his tongue, every stroke of his fingers, every minute bit of pressure he put on my skin, all made my need to drag him to the bed grow nigh unbearable.
A cold, shuddering breath against my hypersensitive throat dragged a moan out of me.
“You,” he said, voice thick with desire, “are a modern miracle. The infection is gone. Your blood is clean. And I’ll be damned if you don’t taste delicious. Better than I remember.”
“Alec,” I panted against his skin, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging him closer, “shut the fuck up and kiss me.”
His laugh rumbled in his chest, vibrating against my skin as he obliged me. He canted his head to one side and his lips slanted over mine, possessive and tasting of salty copper. As my arms slid around his neck, his hands cupped my ass, pulling me up until I was forced to wrap my legs around his waist for balance.
He carried me to the bedroom, easing me down to my feet again. Once I let him go—however reluctantly—he pulled back so he could start taking off my clothes.