Blood Song: Prelude (Blood Song Series Book 1)

by Charli B. Rose

  “Celesta, come sit,” came the smooth voice that would forever be associated with the lips that kissed me so tenderly.

  I wanted to ignore him, but I wasn’t sure how to accomplish that without looking even more foolish than my fresh out of bed look already made me appear. Turning to the table, I discovered my plate was positioned beside Toven. He pulled my chair out for me like the gentleman he was.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

  “Yes, I did, thank you. I haven’t slept all night long in months, so I’m more rested than normal.”

  Gravity pulled my gaze to his. I couldn’t fight it. A smile played across my lips of its own accord. I glanced back to my plate. I ate quickly, tuning out the conversation around me.

  Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear Toven address me initially. But when he lay his palm on my bare thigh and said my name, I jolted to the present.

  “Sorry, I was daydreaming. W-what were you saying?” I stammered as heat filled my cheeks.

  He grinned at me. “I was saying you should go get dressed, so I can give you that tour of the grounds I promised. Unless you want to wander around in your PJs, that is. They are kind of cute.”

  His hand remained on my thigh, his thumb tracing small imperceptible circles on my burning skin.

  “Uh . . . no, I’ll go put some clothes on.” Clumsily pushing my chair back, I hurried from the room.

  Less than thirty minutes later, we wandered the grounds. As we followed the path through the garden, I worked up my nerve to ask, “Who was the creepy guy at the restaurant last night?”

  Toven glanced at me. “You mean Terrence?”

  “Yeah.”

  His lips pressed into a thin line before he answered, “I’ve known him for at least a lifetime. He’s unscrupulous and ruthless, both professionally and privately.”

  “So, what happened to make you hate him?” I asked, genuinely curious about what evoked such strong emotions in this often-stoic man.

  “Hate is such a strong word. I dislike the man’s business practices,” he hastily explained as he stopped walking.

  “Really?” I scoffed in disbelief and turned to stare fully at him. “Your reaction to him was far from dislike. It was nearly murderous. So, I’ll ask again, what happened to make you hate him? Remember we promised honesty.” I rested my hand against his shoulder.

  He drew in a deep breath before answering, “My issues with Terrence have been ongoing. But the most recent run-in was over a bid to build a new hotel and casino in Las Vegas. The job was a huge opportunity. Five developers submitted bids on the project for the vampire-themed casino, which was my idea. With my concept and then my company handling the development and construction, it stood to really launch my development company to a whole new stratosphere. I pulled out all the stops, calling in all kinds of favors to get very competitive prices on materials. And then after all the bids had been submitted, Terrence’s bid came in a mere ten thousand dollars under mine.” His fingers clenched into fists.

  “Is that really such an odd thing? I mean, he probably knows many of the same sources you do if he’s been in the business for a while.”

  “Normally, no it wouldn’t be odd. But in this case, it’s incredibly suspicious. I priced the job pretty much undercutting most of my profits because the exposure from the job in my mind would’ve more than made up for the lack of profit on this one construction job. I have connections to supplies that there’s no way Terrence has. I’m not the only person who has issues with how he conducts business, either. My supply sources would never work with him. It was almost like . . .” he trailed off as the lines in his brow grew deeper.

  “Almost like what?” I trailed my hand from his shoulder down to one clenched fist. Gently, I pried his fingers loose and meshed our fingers together.

  He squeezed my hand. “It was almost like he knew exactly what my bid was going to be, and he undercut it just enough to guarantee he’d win the job.”

  “But him beating you out on a job, even a lucrative one, wouldn’t garner that much hatred from you. What else happened?” I continued to push for answers.

  We started to stroll around the estate again, our hands joined. He led me through a wrought iron gate. As I gazed around, I realized we were surrounded on both sides by tall hedges. It seemed we were in a well-manicured garden maze. Toven was silent for so long, I finally decided he wasn’t going to answer my question.

  “Many, many years ago, Terrence and I worked together. We were partners in my developing firm. I started the company and hired him to oversee the projects. I was too busy to do it myself. I drafted the plans and generated the bids; Terrence handled the purchases and oversaw the day-to-day construction. Things went well for a few years. Our company was well-respected and was getting so many opportunities we couldn’t accept them all. We were elated we’d found success so quickly. Then one of our apartment buildings collapsed a month after cutting the ribbon . . .” his voice had trailed off to a whisper by the end.

  “Oh, no,” I gasped.

  “Thirty people were injured, and ten people were killed, including an infant,” his voice hollow, haunted.

  “Did the tenants blame your company?” I’d have thought if there’d been any bad press surrounding his companies, I would’ve discovered it in my internet search yesterday. Even if it occurred before the invention of the World Wide Web, most major news stories were archived to databases online.

  He dropped my hand and ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it in such a sexy way. “No, at least not initially. There was an investigation and some whispers that shoddy construction was to blame. Several companies yanked their projects from us during those early days. Ultimately, the official investigation concluded nothing could be proven, and my company was cleared of any wrong doing. But I launched my own investigation. I didn’t tell anyone in the company I was digging. I discovered a few of the investigators in the official inquiry were paid off to stop the search. My examination also revealed the supplies I’d listed in that particular bid were never purchased. The purchase orders I approved were returned for cheaper, substandard materials. Terrence placed the orders for those inferior supplies and pocketed the difference in the original supplies and the subpar items he used. He pocketed thousands of dollars on that job. I dug into several other projects that had recently been completed. It turned out Terrence had pulled the same stunt on eight other projects and pocketed over two hundred thousand dollars.”

  I placed my hand on his arm in comfort. “What did you do?”

  “I paid each tenant from the original apartment collapse a settlement and helped them find new lodging. I paid medical bills and funeral costs. Arranged for all the other locations that were constructed below my standards to be quietly repaired. And I fired Terrence immediately,” Toven growled.

  I snaked my arm around his waist and squeezed, offering a silent show of support. He leaned into me but made no other move to touch me. I could give my touch without receiving anything back from him. He needed the comfort my touch could provide right now.

  “So, he took the money he pocketed and started his own company?” I asked.

  “Pretty much. And he’s tried to get even with me every chance he’s gotten since.”

  “That sucks, and not in a vampire way,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

  He chuckled briefly before a grim line set on his face. “Their faces still haunt me sometimes.”

  “Whose faces?” I whispered.

  “The tenants who died in the building collapse. Steve, a young college student, twenty-two years old. Mary, a waitress, thirty years old. Milton, a banker, forty-two years old. Estell, a grandmother, sixty years old, and her husband, Jesse, sixty-five years old. A day trader, William, thirty-six years old, and his wife, Samantha, a teacher, thirty-four years old. Jamie, a caterer, twenty-seven years old. Gina, a single mother, twenty-five years old, and her infant, Jim, only three months old. I watched as each closed bag was removed from the
rubble of my building. I went to the morgue and looked on each face. I attended each funeral. I did all I could to make things right for the people they left behind. But still, their faces float in my unconsciousness, in the sea of victims I’ve left in my wake,” his tone was filled with agony.

  We’d stopped walking during his recitation of the lives lost in the collapse, either because it took too much strength to speak of their lives or because we were at the end of the maze. I stepped in front of him. The brokenness in his voice and vulnerability in his eyes made my heart break. I gazed deeply into his eyes, searching and yearning to erase the pain visible there, but I had no idea how to do that. Instinctively, I reached a hand up to his cheek. The skin beneath my fingertips was smooth to the touch, having just been shaved. His eyes ticked rapidly back and forth over my face, and his breathing became shallow. We stared at each other, both too scared to move forward yet wanting too much to step back.

  I didn’t know who finally moved toward who. At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter who jumped the chasm of space separating our lips. All that mattered was his lips were melded to mine. And it wasn’t in the form of a barely-there kiss. This kiss was an all-consuming, scorching kiss. His fingers tangled in my hair as he tilted my head to allow deeper access. My hands grasped the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. His hard lines pressed to my soft curves. My mouth parted for him on a groan. His tongue stroked mine then began to seek out every corner of my mouth. He groaned as our tongues tangled together. One of his hands gripped my hip tightly while the other kept my lips anchored to his. I’d never been kissed like this before. It was more than a physical meshing. It was a touching of hearts, a fusing of souls. I felt like I was really seeing him through this kiss. I never wanted it to end, yet I wanted even more.