Sucked In
Page 34
Chapter Thirty-Two
When I woke, my internal clock suggested it had only been an hour or two, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Since turning, my days had become nights and my nights days. In truth, I couldn't even remember if it was night or day when I had fallen asleep. I climbed out of the enormous bed and looked around. It was just as I remember it, silver striped walls, white couch, and maroon blankets. Now that I wasn’t bleeding to death I had a chance to look more closely. There was an overly large flat screen T.V. mounted on the wall opposite the bed and couch. I noticed maroon pillows decorating the couch and a black blanket folded on one end. On a metallic looking dresser sat a row of off-white candles and hand-blown glass shapes. These small touches did little to make the room feel like anything more than a posh hotel.
I glanced around, searching the room for my bag of clothing. After a moment of concern, I remembered Josh dragging it out of the room to have its contents cleaned. I scrounged through the drawers until I found one containing sweatpants. I slipped into a pair, rolling the waistband until they fit a little better. It wasn't brilliant. The legs were still long enough to cover my feet, which was useful being that I didn't have any socks.
I slipped out of the room, wondering where Nik had run off to. Then again, why was I even looking for him? It seemed logical to be overjoyed with an opportunity to do my own thing. From the restaurant upstairs I could hear the muffled voices of the cleaning crew, so it could be anywhere from two a.m. to four p.m. I turned down the hallway, heading away from the common room where I assumed Nik would be relaxing. At the end of the hallway, I found a set of wide stairs leading down into another layer of the concrete bunker. I descended the steps and discovered a similar corridor with evenly spaced doors dotting the walls. Though brightly lit, the hallway lacked any form of decoration or home-like touch. I walked halfway down the hallway and began to wonder what was behind the matching doors. I knew one of them was Josh's room, but it had been days since visiting his room and I hadn't been exactly with it at the time.
I stopped and leaned against the nearest door. I couldn't hear anything and, after a moment's consideration, I realized it most likely meant the room was empty. After all, I now had super human hearing. I glanced down the hallway in both directions, making sure I was really alone, before gently turning the knob and opening the door. It led into a room with a similar layout as Josh's, but very different decor.
The walls were lined with brick. I reached out and touched the nearest wall, wondering if it was real brick or a really impressive paint job. Nope, actual brick. A strange queen-size bed lay against the left wall. Though technically considered a four-poster bed, it looked nothing like any bed I'd ever seen. The vertical posts were tree trunks that had been cleared of all bark and polished to a high sheen. At the top, branches jutted out, connecting to make a vaguely square frame around the top. Draped from the branches were green curtains pulled back into elegant swags. The bedspread was a dark forest green. It looked like something out of Lord of the Rings. On the other side of the bed, a spiral staircase led upwards. Across from the bed, a gas fireplace sat surrounded by oversized, hand-carved chairs filled with many large pillows and cushions. Two enormous forest paintings covered the wall in place of windows.
Beyond the bed and chair arrangement, the plush tan carpet changed into tiling. An enormous tub took up most of the far left corner, while the right corner held a glass-encased shower. In the center sat an antique-looking vanity. This room made Nikolai's modern look feel harsh and foreign.
Without thinking, I walked to the fireplace, where framed charcoal sketches sat on the mantel on either side of a long row of books including Lord of the Rings—no surprise there—Into the Wilde, Frankenstein, War and Peace, Gothic Tales, The Complete Works of Edger Allan Poe, and Le Morte D'Arthur, all in modern bindings. My head hurt just reading the titles. I spotted a small glass book shelf containing older looking books tucked in the corner, safely away from the heat of the fire.
The first of the charcoal sketches resting beside the books was of a small child with plump cheeks and large dimples whose hands were reaching out toward the artist in a familiar way. I wondered who the child and artist had been. The style, paper, and frame all suggested the picture was very old and the child long dead. I moved on to the other picture before I could get weepy over someone I had never met. The next picture was of an elegant woman dressed in a 1920s costume. Belatedly, I realized the woman was likely not in costume at all, but wearing clothes from her own era. I stared into her eyes, wondering what color they had been.
I had just begun to grow concerned about being caught in this pretty room when I heard footsteps. I froze by the fire, my fingers still resting against the smooth frame of the second picture. A second later, the handle turned and the door swung open. The man who entered was not what I had been expecting. Though tall and lean, like most of the other vampires I had seen, the similarities stopped there. His dark hair was liberally speckled with gray, his stubble length facial hair also gray. It never occurred to me that a person could be turned after his prime. In my books, all of the vampires were young and beautiful. Don't get me wrong, I'd already realized that less-than-attractive people might get turned, you know, by accident or something. But old people? The very idea of an old vampire was comical. In a different situation, I would have struggled not to laugh.
He held the arm of a thin, pale woman. She had a few different pairs of puncture marks on her arms and neck, all at different stages of healing. I quickly pulled my hand away from the picture and placed it behind my back. I felt like a child who had been caught playing “tea” with her grandmother's china. He eyed me for a moment, the grip on his victim’s arm tightening until she winced.
“Go upstairs,” he whispered in the woman's ear.
Either he didn't realize I was a vampire or he whispered in an effort to make me feel uncomfortable, intrusive. Mission accomplished! The woman nodded and scurried up the spiral staircase. Faster than I thought possible, she was out of sight.
“And you are?” he asked in a voice that was beyond its prime, but attractive in a gravelly sort of way. Overall, his appearance of age was in direct contrast with his attractiveness—like George Clooney or Sean Connery. They could be your grandparent, but that doesn't mean you didn't fantasize about them.
“Ashley,” I said in a breathy tone. You're safe within the seethe, I told myself in an effort to regain my courage. It didn't work.
“Nikolai's little pet?” The man's serious face turned into a sudden smile that created laugh lines around his eyes and lips.
I nodded, trying to swallow my disgust. I didn't trust the smile, considering how much I was in the wrong, not to mention his choice of words.
Before the man could speak again, we heard footsteps on the stairs. The sound progressed down the hallway and stopped outside the doorway. The older man smiled as if he were thoroughly enjoying himself despite the fact I had invaded his privacy. He stepped back to the door and opened it. As I expected, Nik stood on the other side, his face set in grim lines.
“Nikolai,” the older man said by way of a greeting. “I believe you've lost something.” He waved a long-fingered hand toward me and stepped away from the doorway. Nik took one step into the room and stared at me. I recognized his poker face. “Perhaps in the future, you could keep your flunky from snooping into other people’s rooms.”
Despite the context, the man’s voice was as sweet as honey. Nik kept his face calm as he motioned me to his side. I stayed where I was near the fire, in part because I was terrified of his response but also because I didn't like the idea of him ordering me around. Nik waited a moment before crossing the room and dragging me to the door. The other man motioned for us to stop. Nik consented though his arms and shoulders showed just how tense he was if one knew what to look for.
“Are you going to introduce us?” the other man asked in a voice—one that would fit better at a dinner party than a tense confrontation.
“Ashley Hawn, may I introduce Samuel Bligh,” Nik said. He sounded as though he were trying to be just as sappy sweet as Samuel, and he failed miserably. Maybe it was the clamped teeth or the clenched fists.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Samuel said before taking my hand and gently kissing it. A shudder ran up my spine which I failed to mask. Samuel's eyes gleamed as he enjoyed my discomfort.
He opened the door and bowed me out as Nik dragged me into the hallway.