by Jax Garren
“Ain’t you his secretary?” Emma asked.
The woman took the paper back with a satisfied grin. “I believe the word you’re looking for is weren’t—as in, ‘Weren’t you his secretary an hour ago?’ I’m resigning.” She kissed Cash on the cheek, clearly thrilled with the entire chain of events, and Javier wanted to melt into the glass to get out of the awkwardness. “Thanks, sweetie.”
Boss and former secretary shook hands, she winked, and then she was gone.
Cash slapped the close-door button with the side of his fist and slumped back onto the glass. “Fuuuuuck. Loli’s going to kill me.” Loli ran the temp pool for CoVIn. When he’d first arrived, Javier had been offered a secretary, a personal assistant, a launderer, a cleaning person, and about fifteen other workers—all of them women. It was like stepping back a hundred years in time. Maybe vampires from other eras were comfortable with servants. He was not.
After Loli killed Cash, Javier’d like a shot. His sister was screwing this asshole.
“Treasure hunt or bingo?” Emma asked, voice too innocent.
“Deuce if I know. I didn’t look at the paper. I probably just signed my un-life savings away. Get ready to move, Em. We’re homeless.”
Treasure hunt or… It took Javier a moment to get it. Bedding Cash was an item on a vampire treasure hunt? That was nuts. Like, Vampire Housewives of CoVIn nuts.
Thank God vampires didn’t do reality TV; too much chance of being discovered should the video fall into the wrong hands. Still, his sister let the guy on a bingo fuck-me card drink her. It made his blood burn. Did Rhi even know this was going on?
“What was her name?” Emma asked.
Cash glared at her with bleary eyes. He had no idea what his assistant’s name was, and that was appalling. Nurses were not executive assistants, but Javier knew the name of every damn one that worked at East Side Children’s.
“Can we get back to talking about your hoo-ha? Because…” Cash casually raised his middle finger. The corners of his mouth turned up.
Emma howled with laughter as the elevator started up again. “You know, I think my hoo-ha’s the only thing that’s had more tours of duty than your twig and berries.”
“I prefer timber and coconuts, thank you.”
Emma took Cash’s arm and squeezed, as comfortable with him as she was awkward with Javier. Javier wished he could change that, but he had no idea how. Everyone loved Cash; the queen’s fledgling was rich, powerful, white—everything that made life easier. And now Emma would be going home with Cash instead. As nervous as the idea of sun-sleeping next to Emma had made Javier, the thought of her not being there crushed his heart.
No matter what Javier did, men like Cash would always win. And the asshole was drinking his sister.
Emma’s laughter faded off, and she became serious, arm still linked with Cash’s in casual friendship while Javier leaned against the wall by himself, trying to squash his rising ire before he did something exceedingly stupid. “How’d your meeting with Modron go? We met a voodoo priestess’s daughter and learned that voodoo zombis are actually…what’d you Vikings call them? Thralls. So this ain’t voodoo.”
Cash’s expression twitched, then smoothed. “Bully for you. Did the voodoo priestess’s daughter tell you if it can affect vampires?”
“No. She didn’t know nothing about our zombies. See, our zombies have an e on the end of the name. Her zombis don’t.”
“Your modern fascination with consistent spelling is not only strange but a pain in the ass. What in the name of Helheimr is the difference?”
“Whether or not they’re thralls or crazy killing machines.”
Cash frowned, an unusual severity in his tone as he said, “These things are not mutually exclusive.” He smacked Javier in the chest none too gently. Javier tensed, fists balling in a reaction he’d never lost, but Cash didn’t look angry, just drunk enough to not realize he hit with bruising force. “Check the blood samples. Figure out if this thing can affect vampires, and get me a report first thing tomorrow.”
Javier raised his eyebrows. “And how am I supposed to do that?”
Cash raised his hand and flopped it around like he was summoning dark magic. “Science. Isn’t that what you do? We bought you all those, uh, those lab things.”
Science probably was dark magic to him. “Of course, let me just whip out some science.” Javier snapped his fingers to emphasize his sarcasm. “I’m a neuropathologist, not a paranormal epidemiologist, or whatever you call that branch of study.”
Cash blew out a loud breath and shrugged, dismissing that yawning maw of scientific ignorance as if it were nothing. “You’re in charge. Call it whatever you want.”
“Let me make sure I’ve got this right. I’m to invent a new branch of science and have a report on your desk sometime tomorrow? I agree it’s time someone approached supernatural biology as a field of scientific study and not as alchemy’s more capricious and mysterious cousin. Study, however, implies years of dedicated research, not one night’s miracle.”
The confident smirk Cash gave him wasn’t as joking as Javier would like. “CoVIn is not getting involved unless vampires can be infected. I think that’s dog shit, so be useful and give me the proof I need to change Mama Mo’s mind.”
The elevator stopped on Javier’s floor, and he stared at the vampire prince. Cash started to exit, looked around, realized he was on the wrong floor, and sauntered back into the elevator like he’d meant to do that. And wasn’t that just the way the world worked. Idiots with power were forgiven for all missteps on principle, but Javier had to prove himself over and over, each feat seeming more Herculean than the last. What Cash wanted didn’t even made sense.
Javier stepped into the doorframe, keeping the doors open. “You want vampires to get infected? That would be a bad thing. Did you feel how strong those were? And the zombie-were-beasts, or whatever we’re calling them, had claws. What would a vampire be like with that infection? A killing machine. We still don’t even know how it propagates. By blood? By bite? Drugs? A spell?”
Cash waved his hand again, like he could erase any problem—like, say, the problem of reality—with the magic eraser of his prestige. “That’s your job to figure out. My job is to kill it if it becomes a problem. Go do your job. I’ll take care of mine.”
Javier stepped out of the elevator, frustrated and alone.
“Night, sweet cheeks,” Emma said.
Sweet cheeks? Was that an upgrade to get Cash’s nickname? He should turn around and tell her good night back, but he didn’t want to see her there, arm in arm with Cash, when she’d already said she was sun-sleeping next to him.
The good grace to turn still hadn’t mustered when Emma’s fingers slid into the crook of his arm. He looked down at her candy-pink-painted nails in confusion, then pivoted to the elevator, accidentally spinning Emma with him.
Cash leaned back against the glass, looking worn through and a little lonely. But he smiled at them. “Night, Em. Doc.”
“You’re not…” Javier blurted out before he could stop himself. Then he shut his mouth. The man who seemed to have it all had accepted as a matter of course that Emma had chosen to be with someone else.
“Oh,” Cash said, “almost forgot, I got a present for neuro-whatever you.” He tossed a plastic baggie at him. Inside was a spent bullet, coated in red and gray. “You study brains, right? That went through Sergio’s brain; it’s what killed him—or zombie-him. I picked it up when I got Kristoff.”
Javier snapped his head up. “You already went back?”
“Why wait? Maybe that’ll help with our new branch of science.”
Javier turned the little thing over, hoping there was enough to grab a sample. “Thanks.”
The doors closed. For just a moment, the world looked different. Cash had done something helpful, and Emma was with him.
“I’m embarrassed as a cat falling off a hayloft. I got no idea which way to turn to get to my fledgling’s place. Wo
rst sire ever, lucky you.”
“I, uh… thought you were staying with him.”
Emma’s small hand tightened on his elbow, and she gently pulled him back around. “The relationship between Cash and me has been exaggerated in the popular mind. ’Sides, I got me a fledgling that I clearly don’t know very well. That is a situation what has got to be rectified. What’s that number again, Javi?”
He loved it when she said his name like that. He glanced at the key and then the numbers on nearby doors. “Left.” His nerves shot to life. Every touch of her skin on his was intense, every word loud. The woman he couldn’t seem to erase from his heart was going home with him.
* * *
Emma kept her hand casually tucked into the crook of Javier’s arm, determined to brazen out her nervousness. The last time she’d gone home with him, back when he’d been human and they’d just met, he’d kissed her sweetly and run his fingers, soft fingers, across her lips.
“I trust you’ll say something if you change your mind,” he’d told her. “We can always do something else.” Some guys said things like that, but she’d gotten the feeling, from the caress on her face to the delicate pressure of his hand in hers, that this guy had meant it. She’d felt safe with him, and not because she’d known she could kick his ass from there to Sunday. Because instinct had told her she’d never need to. He had treated her with a respect unsullied by ownership, a rare thing in her experience.
“I ain’t gonna… I won’t change my mind,” she’d said. She hadn’t known why she’d standardized her grammar for him. But she had known why she’d assured him she’d go through with it. A girl didn’t get fed watching a movie. She needed something more distracting.
He’d pulled away and smiled at her. “If you don’t change your mind, I hope you’ll help me get it right the first time.” His fingers had slid off her lips, as if encouraging her to speak. “I’m not a great guesser, but I’m obliging, if I know what you want.” His smile had been equal parts shy and cocky. “I like to please.”
“Straight-A student?” Yeah, she’d had him pegged. Mr. Perfect, from his straight teeth to his squeaky-clean record. Not her usual type.
He’d chuckled. “Want to see my transcript?” He’d leaned in, voice low in her ear. “I listen carefully and I’m a quick study, but it helps if I’m interested in the material.” His hand had slid up her arm, raising unaccustomed goose bumps in the wake of his fingers. “And I’m already fascinated.”
So it had been a line, but the way he’d said it had made her feel special and yet heartbroken. For all her experience with sex, she had almost no experience with herself. She’d almost walked out right then, ready to look for someone who’d tumble her quickly so she could eat. But he’d been nice and fun to talk to, and it had been so long since she’d had fun with somebody she’d fucked.
No, she hadn’t run away that night. She’d waited until after he was a vampire, making her a damn coward. He was so prickly now, unlike when they’d first met. And it was her fault.
“Sorry I been gone,” she started, picking up on their old conversation. “I shouldn’t have left my new boy for so long.”
He opened the door and motioned her forward with a frustrated grunt. He still treated her with the respect of their first night, but the sweetness was all gone. “I’m not a boy.”
She took one step in, his protest cogitating in her mind. She hated it when people diminished her with their words, and people always did. In the twisted logic of hurt, it was why she did it back to everyone else—or to anyone who seemed to lord over her in some way. Javier, with his fancy car and his medical degree, had appeared quite the mountain high.
She stared down at the nice carpeting of his CoVIn-provided apartment. She should be lodging him, but she didn’t have her own place anymore. She should be providing for him, but she didn’t feel like she had anything to give. It had never been her intention to make another vampire, but that wasn’t his fault.
“You’re right; you’re not a boy. I just meant that you’re my responsibility, and I shouldn’t have spent so many months in San Francisco when you needed me here.” She ducked her head. That wasn’t accurate. Except for the whole not-drinking-blood part, he was a perfectly acceptable CoVIn vampire. Hell, he fit in better than she did. “Not that you need me.”
“I told you, you didn’t have to move here, Emma. You had a life in California. I can take care of myself.” Unable to meet her gaze, he wandered his new living room, eyeing the furniture critically. It was a nice place—nicer than the one he currently lived in. Didn’t mean he’d like it.
And his level of pissed-off was odd. Yeah, they sniped at each other normally, but this was different. What had happened? She scrolled through the evening in her head, trying to figure out where it had gone so sour.
When it hit her, it hit so hard she stumbled back a step, flinching at her own stupidity. “Javi?” She kept her voice soft but intense and waited for him to face her. It didn’t work.
“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He rearranged the pillows. “It’s not like I can feel anything when I’m out.”
“Javier Tomás Reyes, look at me.”
He did. “You know my middle name?”
She ignored the question. “I said I don’t like sex. That’s an entirely different thing than saying I don’t like sex with you.”
He picked up a pillow and shuffled it around in his hands as his cheeks darkened in embarrassment. “It amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it?”
She stepped forward, and he stiffened like he’d back up. But he didn’t. “It’s entirely different. This ain’t about you. I’m a whore. Sex is my job.”
“Were a… whore.”
Time for some deep truth. “Am. I have sex to eat. I did that when I was a human, and I still do now. Sex is not something I do for fun. Never has been. It ain’t that you’re not good or anything.” She licked her lips and told the weird truth. “You were far more pleasant than my average dinner date, and that’s no lie.” Like, maybe if she was normal and thought of sex like a normal person, they’d be good together.
Hell, there was no maybe about it. She’d be a moon-eyed fool for him.
His jaw clenched as his fingers compressed on the pillow. “Right. Twice now you’ve put up with me touching you. I’ve never forced myself on anyone before, and I didn’t mean to with you either. I’m sorry I—”
Anger shot her spine straight, and she took a step forward. “What part of me picking you up at a bar is you forcing me? That was my choice.”
“Come on. You said yourself, you fuck to eat. I was a john to you. That’s not a choice on your part.” He tossed the pillow onto the couch with angry force. “I know how you got into this line of work, and it wasn’t the exciting career potential. You were forced into it, and now I’m on par with every other man you had to touch to stay alive.”
Oh, how she wished she were taller so she could get in his arrogant face. “I’m so sorry, is this about you? Your feelings get hurt because I fuck around and you’re not special enough? My bad. I guess making you a damn vampire instead of letting you bleed out on that ugly carpet ain’t enough for you.”
“Don’t give me that. You didn’t turn me because I mean something to you. You did it because I was dying in front of you. Danielle was in high school when she had me; I know all about getting stuck with someone you never meant to create. But I’m not a baby. I’m not a boy. You don’t have to take care of your mistake. Nobody does. I got this.”
“Mistake?” Emma laughed, making the sound as nasty as she could. “I make tons of mistakes, but turning Mr. Perfect over here is not one of them. You think I ain’t left anybody to die in my day? How many folks you think I’ve tried turning, boy?” She dug into the word, giving it all the insult she could. “Total of one. So sorry that ain’t special enough for you.”
His fists clenched, anger visibly rolling through his system like fire. So like a man, needing constant assurances that he was unique�
�that he was important. Stupid thing was, for once she wasn’t lying. And he was riled up like a mad bull anyway.
But instead of pressing forward swinging, Javier took a step back. His fists opened and clenched as he breathed, head down, a textbook example of how to control anger. “I know there was at least one other.” His voice shook with the control it took to pull back from an outburst.
In spite of her aggravation, she had to admire his control. She rolled back on her heels, letting him have his space. “No, there ain’t been.”
He gripped the couch, easing himself against the back, like he could make himself be calm by assuming a calm pose. “I know the story. You had some great love, you tried to turn him, and he died. There’s no reason to hide something that everybody in CoVIn knows. You don’t need to take care of me, but please stop lying to me—about us, anyway.”
A brittle smile made her face feel like it would crack. She leaned back on the couch next to him. He was her fledgling. He deserved to know what sort of family he’d blooded in to. “Yeah. Great love, that Joshua Laurenstein.” She paused, wondering if he’d recognize the name. Nobody else had. Or if Cash had—and he caught on to more than he let on—he had the violence inside him to not give a damn.
Javier’s brow creased like he knew he’d heard it, and he had. She’d told him part one of this story.
“He was one of my regular clients, despite his sweet little wife at home. I did indeed fill out the CoVIn paperwork to turn him and got approval. I did indeed tell good old Josh I was gonna make him immortal. We met in his uncle’s barn. I brought bread and cream, offered it to him as his last human meal. He thought it was hilarious that I remembered. I did warn him about the fifty-fifty shot of turning, but he was pretty confident in his divine right to immortality. I’d figured he would be. I might’ve forgotten to mention to him that he needed to drink my blood after I drank his, though. But you know, we whores are an ignorant lot. Can’t do nothing better with our lives than spread our legs, so what do you expect from a complicated procedure like that?”
