“You’re standing on glass,” Absolon comments calmly.
I look down at my bare feet, at the shattered martini glass around it. I can feel the shards poking up through my soles, but I don’t feel any pain. Not physically, anyway. Emotionally is another story.
He gets up from his chair and I hear him stride over to the door to the lounge, opening it. “Wolf,” he barks. “Come in here, please.”
I stare down at my feet, feeling blank inside, then turn to see Wolf stepping in the room, staring at the both of us, brow raised. “Things get out of hand?”
I look at Absolon. His white shirt is completely splattered in blood, and I must look like a fright.
“She was hungry,” he says, eyeing me admiringly. Then he looks back to Wolf. “I need you to get Yvonne to clean up this mess, and wake up Ezra while you’re at it. I’ll be taking Lenore to her room.”
He gives me a commanding look to come over and I’m half-expecting him to snap his fingers.
I raise my chin, faking calmness, coolness, all those vampire things I should be but aren’t, and walk out of the cigar lounge. Behind me Absolon gives a grunt of disapproval, then appears by my side, taking me by the elbow, his fingers digging into my skin.
“You know you don’t have to hold me so hard,” I tell him as he leads me out of Dark Eyes.
“I believe I do,” he says. “You might take on some of my characteristics for a while.”
This is news to me. “What kind of characteristics?” I ask as we head up the stairs, holding up my nightgown with my hand so I don’t trip.
“Not sure yet,” he says, his tone tinged with curiosity. “I hope for my sake it’s none of the bad ones.”
“You mean you have good characteristics?”
He shoots me a wry look. “They’re few and far between.”
He brushes against me as we round the corner to the main floor, his scent flooding through me again, but it’s not just of roses and tobacco anymore. I smell his blood too. The scent is indescribable, but it turns me warm from the inside out, not just stirring up my hunger, but desire, too. It feels like something very basic and raw and primal.
I swallow the feelings down.
He takes me up all the stairs until we get to my floor, but when we walk down past the roses and candles from earlier, he stops, his grip tightening on me.
“What do we have here?” he asks.
I stare. The roses are no longer dead, dried and shriveled. Instead, they’re alive again, the red petals so lush and voluminous…and dripping with blood.
“Did you do this?” he asks me in a quiet voice, a brow arched as he eyes me.
I blink. “I don’t know. Wolf was joking around, said the flowers always die when you’re around. Said I could use magic to make them come alive again.” He continues to stare at me, forehead creased. “So, I just thought about them coming alive again, but nothing happened.”
“That’s all you did? You just thought about them?”
“Well, I said excelsior,” I say quietly, feeling silly.
He chokes back a laugh. “Excelsior?”
“I told you, I don’t know what I’m doing. Is that a magic word?”
“Any word can be a magic word if you’re the one that wields the magic,” he says carefully. His grip tightens. “But you brought these roses back to life. Maybe it didn’t happen right away, but clearly it happened. Not only that, but they’re filled with blood. Is that what you imagined too?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
He observes me for a moment, the intensity in his gaze making me squirm. Finally, he says, “You shouldn’t have this ability, moonshine. Not so soon. You’re supposed to be taught how to use it, and you haven’t been.” He pauses, eyes narrowing. “Have you?”
I shake my head. “No, of course not.”
“Very curious indeed,” he says, leading me down the hall to my door.
We step inside, and only then does he release me. He gestures to the shopping bags piled on the bed. “I did my best, but Amethyst helped as well. Find something you want to wear. Just remember you want to look as good as possible.”
I stare at the bags for a moment, a couple of them from Alexander McQueen. What on earth?
I whirl around to face him. “I’m sorry, did you just say you want me to look as good as possible? How about I don’t fucking wear any of it and just show up in this?” I raise my arms out, gesturing to my bloodied nightgown. “What are you going to do, force me into the clothes?”
“I could,” he says, a smoky look coming over his eyes. “You know I could.”
“I thought you couldn’t always compel me.”
His expression darkens and he takes a step toward me. I move back instinctively, the back of my legs hitting the bed. “There are other means of force.” He keeps coming, stopping inches away, and I suck in a breath. “Be a good girl. Wear the clothes. Make yourself beautiful. You’re not doing it for me. You’re doing it for yourself. Make me want to keep you around.”
I swallow thickly, trying to avert my eyes from his, but I can’t. I don’t know if he’s compelling me again or not, but once again I can’t move, and the more he stares at me, the more I lose control.
Then he breaks the spell and leans in, the headiness of his scent making my eyes fall closed.
“Play my game, Lenore,” he says into my ear, his voice so low and quiet it feels like it’s originating inside my skull. “I’ll let you win.”
And then he pulls back, the air around me growing cold, and when I open my eyes, he’s gone.
Chapter Eleven
I’m dreaming again.
About people in dark cloaks. They’re standing in a circle, surrounded by snow, the land barren and frozen, going on forever. Long curtains of red thread hang from the tops of their hoods, obscuring their faces. The effect is disconcerting.
They’re chanting in a language I don’t understand. Suddenly, one of them holds out their hand, as pale as the snow, a skeleton-thin finger pointing toward the center of the circle. Red blood drips from the fingertip and onto the snow.
One by one, all the fingers point toward the middle, blood dripping, crimson splatters in the white.
In the sky above, the sun is eclipsed by the moon, turning the world dark, and when the sun reappears, I’m standing in the middle of the circle.
I’m frozen in place, unable to move, the fear building inside me.
The chanting gets louder.
The blood starts trickling through the snow, slithering toward me like red snakes, climbing up my legs, all the way to my throat where it wraps around me, again and again, choking me.
I collapse to the ground.
The last thing I see are the cloaked figures scrambling toward me on all fours, like animals, the veils in front of their faces moving just in time for me to see a flash of teeth.
A flash of my death.
When I wake up, I’m in the bathtub, hit with a woozy sense of deja vu. But this time I’m not being drowned under ice water by Absolon. I’m alone, in lukewarm water, the bubbles from earlier having faded. In the corner, black candles flicker, casting shadows around the room.
I sigh and close my eyes, trying to regain the strength I had earlier.
The moment Absolon left me, I collapsed to my knees.
I had no idea how much energy it took for me to just keep myself in control when I was around him, but the moment his presence was gone, my body finally gave up.
The release came in the form of tears.
I cried for what felt like hours.
Over everything.
The loss of all I knew.
My parents’ lies and betrayal.
But most of all, I cried because I no longer understand what I was. I thought as I got older I would experience that kind of wisdom that people get with time when they understand who they truly are, that confidence in your skin, that assurance in yourself. I was working toward that, I was counting on it, to one day not be such a lost mess i
nside, constantly hiding that turmoil, my inner scared self from the world.
Now, that day will never come. Because I will never be normal again. I knew I never was quite right, I knew, especially from the way others were always so wary around me, that I would never really fit in, never be normal. But I wanted to pretend forever.
And now I can’t.
Eventually though, I had no more tears left to cry. I sat there on the floor, trying to make sense of the warring sides inside me, the good and the bad, then I realized there was no point trying to understand. It was too soon. Even I knew that, and besides … I might not have a future at all.
So I got up, ignoring the bags of clothes, and went into the washroom where I discovered Amethyst had left me a present sitting in the tub. A soaking kit filled with aromatic bubbles, salts, and dried flowers.
There was a note with it.
Sometimes a hot bath makes our troubles seem trite.
Amethyst.
Had I been in any other state, I would have thrown the jars in a fit of rage over such obnoxious, ignorant words.
But I was weak.
I lit some candles, drew a bath, and got in, and pretty soon the smells of dried lavender, roses, chamomile, carnations, mint, and other fragrant herbs sunk deep into my soul, grounding me in that well, and I floated away into sleep.
Now, I’m staring at my naked body in the water, feeling like it belongs to someone else, the lack of tattoos making me wonder what else about me has been wiped clean. My morals? My personality?
I’m even thinner now. I’d blame it on not having anything to eat for a week, but that’s not it. Maybe thin is the wrong word. Strong would be better. I still have my curves, it’s just that I suddenly have all this lean muscle that wasn’t visible before.
I sigh and get out of the bath, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel before looking at myself in the mirror.
At least my face looks the same. I don’t have those weird moons in my eyes. I don’t even look as tired as I should. But I do look afraid.
It’s no wonder, you’re going to be auctioned off to vampires tonight.
I shudder at the thought. Even if I am a vampire now, it’s only part of me, not all of me, and these creatures seem more than happy to attack their own. I mean, Absolon himself must be seen as a traitor of the highest order to do what he does.
And that’s why you have to look good, I remind myself. Make him want to keep you around. Keep him fascinated.
I put my hair into a towel and go into the bedroom to get started.
I start going through all the shopping bags, one by one, bringing out the clothes from the more casual stores, like Anthropologie and Nordstrom. I have to admit, I’m impressed. Most are just normal clothes, a pair of black jeans, sweaters, leggings, and a bunch of dresses, but not only do they all seem to fit me, they all have the same vibe and style. It’s not quite mine per se I don’t wear dresses often and these seem to be ripped from a cottage core Pinterest page—but they’re still pretty and deeply romantic. I have to wonder if this was Absolon’s influence or Amethyst’s. I then find a Sephora bag with about a grand worth of makeup—I know Amethyst had everything to do with that.
Then I move on to the designer goods.
I’m speechless. So much so that I totally forget why I have these clothes in the first place. At least it’s a distraction from the ugly truth.
There are two dresses from Alexander McQueen.
One is black, calf-length, made entirely of leather, with a bustier top that will barely fit my breasts, and red leather overlay over one shoulder. It reminds me of the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland, if she were into BDSM.
The other is a strapless sweetheart neckline, vibrant red, draped with layers and layers of gauzy fabric to the floor. Gorgeous.
Obviously, he wants me to wear one of them tonight.
I gravitate to the one that might make me feel stronger. Looking pretty is not my objective—I want to look like a badass. Plus, the duality of the red and black is calling to the duality that’s waking up inside me.
I put it on, and it fits like it was made for me, even when I struggle with the zipper for the bit. Then I take a look at the price tag. Over seven thousand dollars. I feel sick to my stomach, the amount of money Absolon must have has to be beyond obscene. I briefly wonder what that would be like, to accumulate so much wealth over so many centuries.
With the dress on, I put on my new makeup, going for the smoky eye look that I’ve tried to duplicate many times from YouTube and TikTok makeup artists but never had an excuse to wear. While I work, I trick myself into believing this is a normal party I’m going to, surrounded by rich people. But instead of getting excited, I just feel nauseous.
I decide it’s better to just go through the motions. So I blow dry my hair and pull it up into the fanciest updo I can manage with a set of bobby pins that Amethyst must have picked out for me. I think about putting on some perfume, but there’s none to be found, and with my sense of smell heightened now, perhaps all perfume will give me a headache.
When I think I’m finally ready, I slip on a pair of slingbacks, a modest stiletto heel but with a deep cut in the front, spikes at the tip. Handy if I need to kick someone and maim them.
All that’s missing is jewelry, but of course mine was all taken from me.
I glance down at where the ram and Tempest Stone used to be on my hand, feeling the absence. It really had been protecting me—along with the rest—this whole time, and now it’s gone.
All girls need protection, Lenore.
I think about what my mother said. How scared she got when I mentioned Atlas Poe. She thought he was going to take me away, arrest them for treason, or something like that. I don’t know anything about the guild, but I’m going to guess if they like killing vampires, they’re not opposed to spilling a little blood.
And yet, Atlas never got his hands on me.
Instead, it was the other ones my mother feared. Absolon said he knew my parents, had dealt with them before. Did they know he would be the one to find me? Did they fear him like I do? Why didn’t they kill him when they had the chance? Why deal with vampires at all if your job is to slay them?
I would give anything to see my parents right now. To get the real truth, the answers. I know they lied, I know now in the deepest parts of me that they killed my parents and stole me. But part of me believes their love was real.
Then why do you think they were taking you to Joshua Tree for your transformation? The middle of nowhere. Think about it.
I don’t want to think about it.
I want answers, and not the ones from Absolon, because I know that vampire lies. I need to see them again.
I have to find a way.
A knock at my door brings me out of my thoughts, and I can smell the roses and tobacco already, knowing exactly who is on the other side of the door. Something tingles at the back of my head, another way of sensing him. Or maybe it’s the way my blood moves when he’s around, my veins now full of blood that used to belong to him.
I clear my throat, wondering if I really picked up on any of his characteristics, good or bad. “Come in.”
The door opens and Absolon strides inside, dressed in a sharp black suit, black dress shirt, collar open. For some reason I thought he would be in a tux, but of course he looks impeccable in this. Stealthy and deadly, like a walking weapon. Gorgeous beyond words.
I instinctively inhale, my heart thudding.
He stops in his tracks and looks at me for a moment, his eyes flicking over every inch of skin, leaving sparks of electricity in their wake. His gaze is intense, smoldering, something that makes me feel restless and unsettled.
He quickly breaks the spell, closing the door behind him, and it’s only then that I notice he has a jewelry box in his hands.
“What is that, a corsage?” I comment.
He stops right in front of me, his smell washing over me, and holds out the box, the dark blue velvet shining. “Funn
y,” he says dryly. “Take a look for yourself.”
Curiosity gets the best of me and I reach out and flip open the lid.
Inside are a pair of drop earrings and a matching necklace on a delicate chain. Blood red rubies sit amongst burnished silver. The beauty of the stones takes my breath away. For a moment, it feels like I’m being wooed by some wealthy gentleman, instead of what this all really is.
“I thought vampires couldn’t wear silver,” I say after a moment, not wanting to fawn over them.
“Don’t believe everything you read,” he says. Then he hands me the box, leaving the earrings to me while he takes out the necklace.
“Burma rubies,” he says in a low voice that makes me shiver as he comes behind me. With his presence at my back, my neck exposed, I’m on high alert. “Very, very rare. Pigeon blood is the color.”
“That’s disturbing.”
“I’d say macabre. And beautiful. Now you realize how some things in this world can be both.”
I swallow as he gently places the necklace around my neck, the ruby sitting below my collarbone. There’s a feeling of warmth from the back of the jewel, like it’s connecting to my skin and fusing with it. I have to wonder at the magic of stones and where he got this, if it means anything, if it’s doing anything.
His hands go to the back of my neck, and I feel his unblinking eyes burn into me, more of those sparks alighting my skin, alternating between flames and ice. He fastens the necklace and I hear a low sigh from his mouth, as if there’s some sort of relief.
Then he runs his palms over my shoulders, smooth skin skimming over mine, until he grips my upper arms.
I hold my breath, feeling his face come closer, his nose brushing over the back of my head. He inhales sharply, a sensation that causes goosebumps to prickle down my entire body, his nose moving behind my ear.
He’s smelling me.
I can hardly stay still, but his grip is strong, and my pulse is going wild, and I’m not sure if I want to flee, or fight…or fuck.
“So much fear,” he breathes into my neck, and my eyes roll back into my head. “Alongside so much desire.”
Black Sunshine Page 15
