by Sarah Black
“Then how do humans sit on the council?”
He snorts. “Humans hold a resilient strength that none of the supernaturals possess. Their lives are so short that they live, when many of the rest don’t. They embrace the world and its flaws. They love.”
It’s something I understand far too well. For so long, I just didn’t live and didn’t dare to live for fear of my magic leaking out and taking a life.
“The houses stem from each of those races. The strongest of that race holds the house in that country. There are vampires out there in the old world that make me look like a kitten. Yet, somehow, I hold the house in the united states. We all answer to a higher head.”
“So, this council is more like a syndicate?” I worry my bottom lip as he mulls over his answer.
“In a way.”
I nod, ready to move on and in no way ready to understand how this world works. I only want to kill the ones who tried to kill me. How I’ve jumped off that ledge so quickly astounds me, and I rush to speak lest I get caught in my own head. “You believe my attacker and the one who killed my parents to be a vampire?”
“I do.”
“That night, the vampire said that their blood tasted wrong.” My mind flashes to that night, remembering the creature I now know is a vampire sucking their blood and tasting them.
“Yes, not many other creatures can taste blood. The fae can smell the iron in blood, but other than you, vampires are the only ones who can taste it.”
I blow out a breath, eyeing the pretzel and Italian ice stand on the corner. My stomach grumbles, and taking a chance, I pull up to the curb. I blink over at Valentino, pleading with my eyes for him to go grab me some ice and a pretzel. “Watermelon and a pretzel please?”
“Too dangerous, keep driving.”
I put the car in park, reaching for Poppy’s emergency food fund in the center console.
“Must you eat right now?”
“I must.” I dig through CDs, a hairbrush, and condoms, my hand reaching into the abyss trying to find a rogue five.
“Fine,” he growls, opening the door. I watch as he steps up to the window, his once pressed slacks wrinkled while his white button down is splattered with blood. Yet his eyes sparkle as they dart to me, his hair in disarray as it sweeps over his forehead. I can’t help but smirk as he pays and walks back with a bag and two Italian ices.
As soon as the door opens, I go to snatch the pretzel, but he dances away, thinking better of it. Walking around to the driver’s seat, he utters one word. “Move.”
I hate driving anyway, and I don’t actually have the heart to tell him I don’t have a license, so I hop the seat, reaching back for the pretzel bag and now my prized Italian ice. Breaking a piece off, I dip it in the ice then pop my prize into my mouth. The cool, salty flavor dances across my tongue and eases my hunger pangs.
“I’m going to have to keep you fed.” He fixes the mirror and pulls back out, the old engine rumbling.
“So, we are looking for a vampire and that’s your business?” I speak around a mouthful of carbs and ice.
“Yes. I don’t allow for innocents to die, Penny. I haven’t in the last hundred years, and I won’t begin now.”
A vampire with morals. I suspect that is a rare commodity in this world. “What now?”
“We back up and think this through. Lay low for a day and go over everything in your life.” His tone turns serious, even as he licks the side of his ice, his lapping tongue a distraction that has my cheeks flushing.
He gazes over at me, his eyes flaring with lust, his mask slipping away as his eyes hood. His stare intensifies, causing my breath to quicken.
“Why?” I struggle with the word, even as a bit of Italian ice slides down my hand.
“Because, kitten, I don’t think my rogue vampire is working alone, and I suspect someone close to you is the ringleader.” His eyes turn back to the road as ice trickles down my spine in foreboding.
“Impossible.”
“Is it impossible? There are few who know you are a blood witch, and whether you know it or not, for your lineage to have survived all this time, they would have had to have been in hiding. That kind of hiding requires help in this era. The past, not so much.”
I want to rebut his words. Deny them because I trust everyone in my life, but there aren’t many I love and cherish. That list is short, and I refuse to admit the ones on there could have done anything to hurt Poppy or me. “What if you’re wrong?”
“Pray that I’m not.”
Unfortunately for him, I’ve never been one to waste my time praying, instead choosing to lean on cold, hard evidence.
23
A comfortable silence settled between us long ago, though every once in a while Valentino peers over at me from beneath his ridiculously long lashes. I’m not ashamed I looked, and I stared at them as they perfectly framed his eyes. It’s a shame perfect lashes befall men. Maybe us women mess ours up by wearing mascara.
My mind refuses to focus on any one topic, and instead wanders from pointless thoughts, like lashes, to whether or not someone will accomplish killing me. Then all thoughts float away, leaving me with nothing to think upon aside from the passing homes and shops.
Sometimes silence overwhelms the mind. It settles like a lead weight, and with each thought its burden grows. Except with Valentino, he eases my thoughts. I don’t have to pretend to fill the void with meaningless conversation, and I can breathe without worry.
We’ve been driving long enough, turning and traveling in obnoxious circles only to drive out past the city limits then back again. I’d assume if we were being followed, we would have picked up on it by now. Though I’m sure Valentino wants to be perfectly sure after what happened last time with his car.
The air in the bug is stifling at best, so I roll down my window as the sun begins to set, cooling the humid day and my body. Though I can’t part with the leather jacket that seems to keep me at the perfect temperature.
Finally, after several hours—my butt far too numb to bother with adjusting—we end up at the shipyard, which is somewhere I didn’t think you could go without access, but then again I wasn’t paying attention as I lost myself in my head. I watch carefully now as he drives to the desolate and abandoned buildings. Weeds grow from huge cracks in the pavement, while trees and shrubs desperate to reach the sun flourish without worry of a landscaper’s blade. The car rumbles over potholes as the car dips with its weak suspension. In the distance, I can smell the river as I glimpse out across the murky water to see ships, while behind me decrepit buildings litter the lot.
Still, I keep quiet as he brings the car to another building that has absolutely seen better days. Across from us is a chain-link fence that tells me we aren’t in the yard but damn close. Valentino adjusts so he can pull a remote from his pocket, and with the click of a button a door rumbles and rises. Without waiting, Valentino pulls in and parks, hopping out moments later to shut the door and turn the lights on.
Ambient lighting flickers to life as I climb out. He’s parked off to the side of the interior while the rest is an open floorplan apartment. A sitting area complete with television sits separate from a raised platform bedroom, delineated by a small divider of bookshelves. A door leads to what I hope is a bathroom that I take off to and enter.
Inside is a simple shower against one wall, enclosed by glass. Green and blue tiles of what looks like sea glass line the shower space, and chrome fixtures dot the space, including a rainfall showerhead. I quickly make use of the toilet then wash my hands.
Cupping my hands, I splash water on my face, rubbing the grit from my eyes and hydrating my skin. The mirror greets me with a woman I know well. Her icy gaze stares back at me, yet the fading bruise reminds me that I no longer live in a world of safety.
I was never safe. I just pretended to be something I wasn’t. And now that price sits around me after we drove for miles to a location I never would have thought to go to. I look away, no longer able to f
ace myself or my demons.
“What is this place?” My gaze strays to the small kitchen in front of us, hoping it’s stocked. Though small, its cabinets speak of wealth with granite countertops stretching the length toward an industrial-sized fridge.
“My safe house.” His words make sense and ease me somewhat.
“What now?”
He’s in the kitchen pulling out ingredients here and there to set them on the island. I sit at a stool with the car behind me, ticking as it cools down, yet it warms my back with the heat of our drive.
“Now I assume I must feed you.” His lips kick up into a rare smile before it leaves his face. “I’m limited to what I’ve got here. There is mostly just water in the fridge, though the freezer is somewhat stocked. I assume you will eat pasta?” He raises a brow in question, his hand settling on a box of penne as he awaits my answer.
“I eat pasta.”
“But not meat?”
Observant. “Not meat.”
He leans on the island, his elbows supporting his weight as he stares at me intently. “Tell me.”
“It’s a foolish reason.” A blush creeps up my chest to my neck where his eyes dart. No doubt hearing my blood thumping to flood the area.
“Humor me.”
Rolling my eyes, I spit out, “Fine.” Satisfied, Valentino begins to pull jars of something from cabinets as he waits for me to talk. “That night when my parents died messed me up.” I’m actually surprised at the strength in my voice as I talk. “Every time Aja’s mom, Angela, made me eat it, I ran and threw up.”
He points at me. “Shifters.”
“I know that now, but twelve-year-old me didn’t know that. They cooked raw red meat nightly. And by cook, I mean they walked through the kitchen to warm it before setting it on a plate for me. I just couldn’t do it.”
“All you saw was the blood from your parents.” It’s a statement, not a question, a pure observation of my past telling me more than anything he listens when I speak and when others speak about me.
“Yes,” I whisper, the strength from moments earlier leaving me.
“I’m two hundred and fifty-four years old.” He pauses to fill a pot with water, his brow furrowed as he thinks carefully over his next words. “Grief doesn’t go away, but it changes, it evolves. How we handle that grief and trauma is solely individual. Your reason isn’t foolish, Penny, it is your reason. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”
I blow out a breath, releasing tension at his words. “Two hundred and fifty-four, huh?” I tease before following up with my curiosity. “Are you immortal?”
“Ah. First, do you eat cheese?” He holds up a block of cheese he pulled from the fridge.
“Is that even good to eat?” I wrinkle my nose.
“It’s cheese, it doesn’t go bad, you just cut off the mold.” He proceeds to do just that. “See? It’s fine now.”
“You’re such a bachelor.” I shake my head with a smile as he grates, taking my words for a yes. Honestly, it doesn’t actually bother me, but I’m having more fun teasing him. “Answer my question.”
“I don’t believe true immortals exist in this world anymore.” He pops the last of the cheese block into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Even the angels grow weary and need naps for centuries.”
“Why?” I lean in, enjoying this relaxed version of Valentino. This man, vampire, is showing me a side of him that I could quickly become addicted to. Generous and protective, even if his reasons have everything to do with a murder on his territory that went unreported.
“Most don’t live that long. They are usually killed off at the five hundred mark. Murdered by loved ones who deem that time sours the mind.” He pauses, taking another bite of cheese before moving on. “Angels and demons tire, hence the long nap. The world bores them. And the guardians haven’t been away in a millennium. They may as well not exist anymore at all.”
“That makes you middle-aged,” I tease, but his words affect me more than I’d like them to. I grow bored if I have nothing to do for a day. To live centuries? Millennia? I’d take a nap as well.
“It does.” He begins to pull sun-dried tomatoes from a jar, a weakness of mine. I love cooking with them and their taste as they explode over my tongue. Actually, I love tomatoes period, and by the way Valentino is looking at me now with a teasing glint in his eye, I’m guessing he’s aware of that little fact.
“Does time sour the mind?”
“Vampires are cursed humans. We aren’t like the fae, angels, or even demons. We need to adapt more than they do. So yes, I suppose in a way the mind does sour, but not because of time, but because as we age we understand the patterns of humanity and supernaturals. That it doesn’t change even as it grows. That our wars and conflicts will never end and, honestly, Penny, it just gets exhausting.” The lines around his eyes deepen, the skin beneath them graying with his words.
“So, immortals have the options to live forever but they don’t?” I push, before asking what I really want to know. “And what of witches?”
“Long lived, not immortal. Think of immortal supernaturals as those with fast healing. Long lived means you are as fragile as a mortal, but you age slower.” He chops the tomatoes with the snap of a knife against the cutting board
“That’s a bummer.” But is it? Would I truly want forever laid out before me? To watch Joe grow old and die? Which is what I’ll have to do anyway. No, I decide. I wouldn’t want that either, and I can understand why they would kill each other off at five hundred.
“A witch’s lifespan is usually around three hundred to four hundred years. You’ve got time.” He smirks at me, a secret playing about those sinful lips.
“What’s that smile for?” I can’t help myself, he’s addictive. A bad addiction, one that isn’t just bad on my body but my mind and soul.
He stops what he’s doing, even as the water boils up and over the pot, sizzling on the stovetop. His eyes stay locked on mine. “You and Poppy will change everything.”
My heart skips a beat, finally normalizing as he looks away. I don’t want to know how we will change things. Not yet. I just want tonight to be normal, or as normal as I can get. “What about demons and angels?”
He snorts. “God’s children.”
My mouth salivates as he begins to cook. “I don’t know if I believe in God.”
He nods in understanding. “We’ve all been there. But angels and demons are deathless. You kill them and they just respawn in heaven or hell, eventually making their way back to earth. They no longer sit on the council, and the day they do we are all fucked.”
“Why is that?” He reaches into a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of table red. He grabs two glasses before filling them and pushing one to me.
He shudders as his lips touch the glass, the liquid splashing onto his tongue. Heat pools in my belly at just watching him enjoy his wine. I feel like a voyeur as he takes in that simple pleasure. Mouth dry, I look away, sipping my own wine. This is nothing more than desire by circumstance. Like in action movies where the girl falls for the guy because they are being chased by the villain.
That’s all this is. The need to act based on a ticking clock.
“Because power is addictive, and they chose to consume all they can. Greed is a motivator for the deathless.” His glass clinks as he sets it on the granite.
“Does a witch sit on the council?” I recall the card from Hilda that I tucked away in my new jacket.
“Not anymore. To sit on the council, you need to be able to walk through the door to their chamber,” he spits, telling me what he really thinks about it, venom dripping off of each word. “Many have tried to walk in, and if they aren’t strong enough, they die, exploding from within. Their ashes swept away under a rug.”
“Mortals?”
I stare at him in horror, and he pauses in his cooking, those eyes full of secrets now spilling sorrow. “They must pass.”
I swallow back bile, ready to move on from this conversation.
How can anyone be that cruel?
“Penny, look at me.” His voice, so soft as he throws together food for us to eat, tears at me. Yet I look at him, unable to help myself. “Learn now that these rules aren’t played by soft hearts. They aren’t fair and they aren’t equal. They are performed by creatures without morals and ethics. They bathe in blood and revel in it. This is our world. Accept it now or run forever.”
I look away, his words stinging me like a slap. He damn well knows I won’t run. It just isn’t in my nature.
Liar.
I swallow my pride because I have ran from the person I am inside. But no longer. Now I’ll stay even if I don’t agree with the bloodshed. Even if that blood exhilarates me.
“Good.” He goes back to cooking as I grasp my wineglass, taking a healthy swig. The bitter flavor swirling on my tongue. “Eat and rest, tomorrow will be a long day.”
I swivel, eyeing the lone bed and wondering who gets to sleep there. Instead of asking about that, I pose a different question. “How can you eat food?”
“Because my ancestors were mortal once, that just doesn’t disappear. Food gifts me sustenance. Blood gifts me life.” He pulls the pasta from the stovetop, moving to churn together his sauce and noodles, a succulent aroma filling the air.
“If you didn’t have to protect me out of moral obligation, would you?” I don’t know why I ask, but the words spill from my lips.
Valentino pauses, his eyes darkening as he leans in, his voice but a breathy whisper. “I’d still chase you, sweet Penny, because just seeing you makes me want more. Hearing your voice wakes up a piece of me I thought was long dead.” His voice drips with seduction, igniting an inferno inside me. “Smelling your skin, that lavender perfume, and the heady scent of your arousal stirs the beast inside me. He roars at me to claim you, Penny. So yes, without obligation I would chase you to the ends of the earth.”
He goes back to cooking like he never uttered those words. But my blood pounds in my body, pumping to every erogenous zone that is fully awake for the first time in my life. It’s then I realize there is no coming back from Valentino DeLuca.