by Bella Klaus
She wore her hair in a high bun with wavy tendrils framing her heart-shaped face. Her calf-length navy peacoat was buttoned up to the neck, and her long boots didn’t betray a glimpse of what she wore underneath. The morning traffic whizzed past, busy even for a Sunday.
Beatrice spread her arms out and grinned. “You invited me over for a day of unbridled luxury?”
I pulled her inside. “It’s nice to be able to treat you for once.”
Beatrice stepped over the threshold, her eyes wide and her mouth falling open as she took in the high ceilings, marble floors, gilded portraits. “Do you know how much a place like this costs?”
“A million or two?” I said with a shrug. “Three?”
She looped her arm through mine. “More like fifteen! I’ll bet this place costs tens of thousands in monthly rent.”
“Wow.”
Not all supernaturals were rich, but some of the older families had owned land in the Natural World for centuries and had amassed a tremendous amount of wealth. Most witches were more concerned about power as they could gather anything they needed through magic and nature.
I led Beatrice into the kitchen and opened a built-in refrigerator crammed with groceries. Whoever had prepared breakfast the day before had supplied us with Marks and Spencer finger food—perfect for eating by the pool. My face split into a grin. This was just like Beauty and the Beast, but without the surly monster growling over Belle’s shoulder. I much preferred my real-life version of the movie.
“Ooh, cheese and onion.” Beatrice pulled out a tray of miniature quiche slices. “Did you say there was a pool?”
“Actually…” I shook my head and pulled her toward the stairs. “Pool is an understatement.”
We reached the basement, and Beatrice clutched at the handrail with a gasp. Last night, when Kain had shown me what was in the lower level, I’d been tired and hungry and a little overwhelmed. I’d seen the pool illuminated by spotlights in both the water and the ceiling, but the space looked larger and more spectacular this morning. It spanned the property’s entire footprint, stretching beneath its back garden to accommodate a thirty-foot pool.
The color scheme consisted of pale neutrals, from the off-white walls to the gray stone floors that contained enough texture and grit to prevent slipping. On its right side was a decked area housing a small sauna, a round sunken jacuzzi, and a glass steam room.
Beatrice clasped her hands and squealed. “Did you faint when you first saw this place?”
“Not quite,” I said with a chuckle. While this villa was luxurious, Valentine’s palace boasted at least a hundred times the size and splendor.
I exhaled a sigh. Valentine’s palace was a fairytale. The sort of place a girl would move into, even if its owner was a frog or a slathering beast. But all the wealth paled in comparison to how Valentine had made me feel.
He’d looked beyond the Neutral no-hoper, and over our three-year courtship, helped me blossom into a confident young woman… What a shame that destroying that had taken a mere three minutes.
Beatrice rifled through her bag. “Alright, then. Where do we get changed?”
“Don’t you want some brunch and a glass of buck’s fizz?” I asked.
She gestured at a refrigerator recessed into the wall. “I’m happy with water. Right now, I’m dying for a swim, a sauna, and a soak!”
The pool turned out to have a current that worked against the body, so the swimmer always stayed in the same position. Beatrice said it was an exercise pool that people with smaller houses used so they could have a continuous swim without needing to constantly stop and turn around. I’d thought it was magic, but if she knew about it, it had to be human technology.
After the swim, we climbed out of the pool and brought our water bottles to the steam room, a square space with a U-shaped bench. The air was thick, and condensation soaked the walls. Trying to breathe in all that steam wasn’t as relaxing as we’d imagined, so we headed for the sauna, a gorgeous wooden enclosure heated with burning coals.
The sauna was arranged in an L-shape, with two tiers of benches for us to lie or sit. I stretched out a fluffy towel on the top row and lay on my back. Beatrice sat resting her back on the wall with her legs stretched out at the bottom.
“We had saunas every day in Finland.” She picked up a ladle of eucalyptus-scented water and poured it on the coals, filling the tiny room with a flare of menthol and heat.
I raised my head. “You didn’t tell me you worked there.”
She smoothed her wet hair off her face and hummed. “It was a short project I did a few weeks before meeting you, but more importantly, whose house is this? Does it belong to your ex?”
“Yes,” I said, keeping my features neutral.
Beatrice twisted around, her eyes wide. “You moved in with him?”
“He doesn’t live here. At least I’m sure he doesn’t.” This was his house, and he could install himself here at any time.
Concern creased the corners of her eyes. I couldn’t blame her. To anyone on the outside, it looked like I’d spent three years pining for a mystery guy, only to uproot myself the moment he and his limo swept back into my life. By anyone’s standards, changing one’s lifestyle at a man’s whim was perilous.
“It’s not what you think,” I said.
“When will you return home?” she asked.
“As soon as we’ve dealt with the pests,” I muttered.
She paused for several heartbeats before saying, “Don’t be like me—”
“No, it’s not like that.” I rose off my seat and placed my hand on her damp shoulder. “Valentine and I aren’t dating. We’re not even friends.”
She raised a brow, the corners of her mouth lifting into a smirk. “Valentine? Are you sure that’s not a pseudonym?”
His full name was Valentinus Sargon de Akkad, but telling her that would lead to more questions I wasn’t permitted by the Supernatural Council to answer.
Dry heat swirled around my head, so I lowered myself onto the bench, scrambling for a way to explain. I’d had the entire night to think up an excuse for being here as Beatrice was bound to ask.
Only a watered-down version of the truth would work because Beatrice knew me well enough to tell if I was lying.
“Do you remember that morning you called me?” I didn’t want to ruin things by mentioning Christian by name and I hoped she would know which day I was talking about.
“Yes, which is why I thought you’d have learned from my disastrous experience and thought twice before giving a guy exactly what he wants.”
“But I’m not.” I twisted onto my side and met her dark eyes. “One of the things I most admired about you was how you can bounce back from anything.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Really?”
“Compared to me, yes.” I nodded for emphasis. “It’s what makes you so courageous. You don’t overthink decisions. You jump in knowing that you’re capable of taking care of yourself and dealing with any consequences.”
Beatrice huffed a laugh. “I’ve got to have some spontaneity somewhere.”
I snickered. It was strange that such an exciting woman would have such a boring sounding job. Maybe tax was the dynamic part of accountancy and her work-life was more like Wolf of Wall Street.
“Anyway,” I said. “Speaking to you that morning made me decide to move on.”
“By moving in?” she whispered.
By the time I stuttered out an explanation, Beatrice was totally unconvinced that I was no longer in love with Valentine. She also pictured him as a domineering old guy with ogreish tendencies toward women. The worst part was that everything she thought about him was true. Valentine’s attitudes were old world, even though he tried to keep up with modern times.
“Why couldn’t you stay with Mrs. Bonham-Sackville while they’re fumigating your studio?”
“She’s an old lady,” I blurted. “What if she got affected?”
Beatrice pinched the bridge of her nose,
seeming like she thought I was lying to myself. “Why don’t we get a drink and talk about it later?”
My heart plummeted, and I felt all Beatrice’s notions of me being a paragon of strength and willpower float into the ether. That was the downside of keeping secrets. Not even a half-truth could sound convincing.
We stepped out of the sauna to find a wooden table on its side, laden with a platter of finger food, two glasses of buck’s fizz, and bottled water within a bucket of ice.
“Does he have servants?” she asked.
“Yes, but I didn’t see anyone this morning,” I replied with a frown.
Beatrice and I moved the tray of food close to the hot tub, and we climbed inside the warm bubbly water with our cocktails. I took a sip of my drink, letting the sweet liquid slide down my tongue. This was actually a mimosa, which was made with one-part orange juice and another part champagne. Buck’s fizz contained two-thirds of the alcoholic beverage.
“How have you been?” I asked.
“Oscillating between anguish and anger.” She took a sip and exhaled a satisfied breath. “Alcohol helps.”
“So do naughty nibbles in the jacuzzi.” I picked up a canapé topped with cream cheese and gestured at the tray for her to get something to eat. “Have you been tempted to call him?”
“Every time I felt like firing off a furious text, I asked myself what you would—” Beatrice’s mouth dropped open, and she drifted forward, nearly spilling her mimosa into the warm water. “Bloody hell.”
“What’s wrong?” I turned around, catching more than a glimpse of Valentine striding toward us, his perfect bronze body glistening with water.
Clenching my teeth, I snatched my gaze away, but afterimages of that glorious body still branded themselves into my mind’s eye. Broad, muscular shoulders, bulging pectoral muscles, a sculpted six-pack abdomen, and defined thighs.
Beatrice’s face darkened with a deep flush that spread down to her cleavage. She panted through parted lips, “Who is that?”
“Valentine Sargon.” He reached out a large hand. “You must be Beatrice. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.”
A rush of shock hit me in the gut, and I spun around to meet his smiling eyes. In the basement’s artificial light, they appeared more indigo than violet.
Valentine brought Beatrice’s trembling hand to his lips, all the time gazing at me with the tiniest of smiles. I pressed my lips into a tight line and breathed hard to expel the heat rushing between my legs.
This reaction didn’t mean a thing. Vampires were built to attract victims, and everything about them was seductive. I was only flesh and blood. One could get excited about the male form and not like or trust its owner.
“I thought you had business somewhere far away?” I said.
“Surely you don’t expect me to work on a Sunday,” he drawled.
“But we don’t want to keep you from important business,” I said with a little more bite in my voice.
Beatrice batted at me in a silent plea to stop trying to chase Valentine away.
My eyes narrowed. If the vampire wanted to stick around and make a nuisance of himself, nothing I could do or say would stop him. He had that in common with Macavity.
I turned my head, which only made him grin wider in the periphery of my vision.
“Ladies, I will take my leave,” he said. “When you’ve finished exercising, I would be delighted to take you both out for a late lunch.”
“We’re not hungry,” I snapped.
Valentine chuckled and strolled away. I glowered at the rippling muscles of his broad back, and at the trunks clinging to his ass. The laugh he made seemed to say the lady doth protest too much. He opened the door, making the muscles of his shoulders bunch in a way that caused a tiny groan to reverberate in the back of my throat, and disappeared into the stairwell.
I brought my mimosa glass to my lips and took a long drag of champagne-infused orange juice to moisten my dry throat.
Beatrice leaned into me and whistled. “Forget everything I said earlier. With a body and a face like that, I’d jump on that dick, ride it to the sunset, and damn the consequences.”
I spat out a fountain of mimosa but half of it went down my throat. “It’s not like—”
Beatrice gave me several hearty claps on the back, trying to dislodge errant drops of orange juice and champagne. “There’s no need to explain yourself. Just breathe.”
The more I protested, the more the mimosa travelled down my throat. The bubbles raged as I leaned forward, gasping and coughing and spluttering for air. Damn that vampire for flaunting himself. What did he bloody want?
“Seriously, you’re going to have to give me some tips,” she drawled. “I wouldn’t want any of the London riffraff after drinking from the font of Valentine.”
“Beatrice,” I hissed.
She turned to me and smirked. “Give us a few juicy deets.”
I rubbed at my temples. “Men like Valentine know they’re gorgeous and sought after. To them, women are wholly and utterly disposable.”
Beatrice blew out a long breath and downed the rest of her drink. “I should know.”
“Sorry.” I turned to my friend and frowned. “I didn’t mean to remind you—”
She raised a hand. “I was being insensitive. It’s obvious that you’re still hurting. He must have really gotten under your skin.”
“And into my heart and soul.” I finished my mimosa, now wishing it was a buck’s fizz, or better still, straight alcohol.
Beatrice set down her glass and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Forgive me?”
I hugged back, letting the heat from the jacuzzi engulf our bodies. “That’s the thing about true friendship. There’s nothing to forgive.”
Beatrice’s hand fell away, and she drew back, trying to scramble out of the water. I raised my head to see what had upset her but couldn’t see her through the thick clouds of steam.
Steam?
The jacuzzi was supposed to be warm, not hot.
“Mera,” Beatrice croaked.
My heart leapfrogged into my throat, and I rose to my feet, waving my arms about.
“What’s happening?” I followed her toward the steps, where the steam was less intense.
Beatrice’s skin glowed a deep shade of red, making my breath catch. It looked like she was having an allergic reaction to something. Her limbs trembled as she stumbled up the steps, breathing hard and fast.
Once she was out of the water, she straightened, seeming a little calmer. I exhaled a relieved breath and climbed out after her.
“Are you alright?” I placed a hand on her back.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. “I’m—”
Beatrice fell face-first in the roiling water with a hard splash.
Chapter Twelve
A scream tore from my lips, and everything happened in a blur. I jumped into the water, and tried hooking my arms beneath Beatrice’s to pull her to the edge of the hot tub, but Valentine appeared and rushed her into the pool. With his other hand, he was already on the phone to emergency services.
Two suited vampires rushed to the poolside, and Valentine barked such rapid instructions at them that it was impossible to tell if he was speaking French, Italian, or Arabic. I could barely see anything through the clouds of steam billowing around the jacuzzi.
What the hell was happening? The water wasn’t even that warm.
Clutching the edges of the tub, I climbed out, my limbs trembling in sync with the pulse booming between my ears. As I rose, someone placed a dressing gown over my shoulders and pressed a freezing bottle of water into my hands.
“Drink, Miss Griffin,” said a female voice. “And please come with me to get changed.”
I couldn’t go anywhere. Not with Valentine standing in the pool, holding Beatrice in the water. Her unmoving body floated to the surface, her usually tan skin now even redder.
“Is she—” The words caught in the back of my throat.
; Valentine turned around with grave eyes. “She’s still breathing. The paramedics are on their way.”
“Please tell me what’s wrong,” I said.
“Come away, Miss Griffin.” The vampire female wrapped an arm around my shoulder, trying to guide me toward the changing room, but I shrugged her off and rushed to the side of the pool.
I fell to my knees, not trusting myself in the water when every muscle in my body quivered. Steam still billowed from the jacuzzi but it was less dense, proving that something about me had caused the water to boil.
“Valentine,” I said.
He raised a palm, still balancing a prone Beatrice on the water. “Don’t come in.”
My throat thickened. Even Valentine knew it was my fault.
The door flew open, and a pair of paramedics stepped inside, a tall Black woman with cornrows and a gray-haired man with a short beard. Both wore uniforms of bottle-green fleece jackets with matching shirts and pants, and each carried down bulky medical backpacks and a pair of cases.
For a heartbeat, they both gaped at the basement before rushing to the poolside.
“Sir?” The woman’s case landed on the stone tiles with a thud. “Please move her slowly to the edge of the pool. Has she had fluids?”
“She’s still unconscious,” Valentine replied.
The male paramedic knelt beside me, and I backed away from the pool. As soon as Valentine brought her up to the ledge, the paramedics raised her feet onto a block, attached a blood pressure monitor to her arm, and stuck a thermometer in her ear. By now, the color of her skin had bloomed to a livid red.
Numb shock spread through my body. If I knew how to take it back, I would. What if I’d just damaged my best friend’s internal organs?
A moment later, Valentine maneuvered my arms into the dressing gown and guided me away from the paramedics. As we stepped onto the sandstone floors and muted brown walls of the basement’s dressing room, I realized he was trying to protect me from watching Beatrice die.
