“Where did they go?” I asked, surveying the pristine room. It was as though nothing had happened here, no fight, no bar stool, no biting.
I shivered. Gross.
“I had it taken care of. Sit,” he said, motioning to a cushioned leather barstool as he grabbed a bottle of vodka from the shelves and began pouring. My blurred vision focused as best it could as he poured two measures of straight vodka and a dash of vermouth into a shaker with a generous scoop of ice. The rattle of the ice against the metal sent my head spinning yet again and my hand moved to nurse the aching muscles at the base of my skull.
“You dropped like a stone,” Xavier stated as he strained the liquor into two glasses and topped them with a twist of lemon peel. “You’ll be sore for a few days, I would imagine.”
Xavier slid a glass towards me effortlessly before throwing his back with a flicker of a wince.
“Are you like them?” The question came before I had a chance to stop it, but I didn’t care. If my suspicions were right, I’d just drank the blood of a monster. This wasn’t the time for manners.
“No,” he replied, and I quickly panicked. His expression told me I’d offended him, but thankfully the crease of his brow settled swiftly when his gaze met mine. “Not entirely.”
“I was born, not made,” he clarified, as though I knew what he meant.
“The men that were here earlier and the one I have tied up downstairs… they’re feral.” Xavier paused, rubbing his hands down over his face before leaning his elbows on the bar. “Rabid animals.”
I sighed, fumbling with the base of my glass and shaking my head. “How the fuck did I get myself involved in this bullshit.”
“Perhaps your boss will give you a bonus once you solve this case.”
It took far too long for me to realise he was joking, and I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “So, am I one of them now? A rabid animal?”
Xavier shook his head, “You’ll feel like a superhero for a few days, that’s about it.” He winked subtly. “You can stay at my place tonight.”
My eyes widened, and I chuckled in disbelief. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
The seriousness returned to Xavier’s previously playful face. I had the feeling I wasn’t going anywhere soon, at least not without an escort. To my utter humiliation, I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or not.
“This isn’t over, Quinn. We killed a few tonight, but more will come. They always do.”
“Can’t wait,” I said. Sarcasm, as bitter as the lemon peel in my glass, seeped from my words.
“Let’s get you out of here,” Xavier uttered, picking up a set of keys from behind the bar and walking around to help me up off the stool. I didn’t need his help, but I let him press his palm against my back and urge me out of Omen without giving him any hassle.
Although I’d put up some resistance when it came to staying the night at Xavier’s place, I was forced to accept that I didn’t want to return to my cold, empty flat. I was uncharacteristically frightened and although I still wasn’t sure if I could trust Xavier, staying with him certainly seemed safer than being alone. He held the car door open for me and ushered me inside, leaning his large body across mine to buckle my seatbelt.
“I didn’t picture you driving a Tesla,” I quipped when he climbed into the driver’s side and started the engine.
Xavier’s mouth lifted at the corners before he replied, “What did you picture? A horse-drawn chariot, perhaps?”
I scoffed, shaking my head and wincing at the pain in my neck. “I need to speak to Thatch.”
Xavier pulled the car out into the road, his attention focused on the cars in front. It was barely a five-minute drive from Omen to his home in Carlyle Square, but his swift turns around corners were already making me feel sick.
“Not now, you need to rest,” he replied without a second to spare, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. He must have been aware of my staring at him, because he let a long sigh escape from his nose before he spoke again. “First thing tomorrow, we’ll go together.”
“I don’t need a chaperone to see Thatch.”
I stole my focus away from him and looked out at the road in front. Rain had spattered the windshield, but I could see clearly as the towering homes of Chelsea came into view.
“Has tonight’s experience taught you nothing, Quinn?” Xavier snapped, spinning the car into a space just outside of his Chelsea townhouse and shifting gracefully to face me. “They are everywhere. They see everything. If they get just a sniff of you out in the open unaccompanied, they’ll be at your throat quicker than your limited instincts could register.”
It took everything in me not to flinch. Not out of fear, although it seemed to be becoming a full-time feature in my life, but because he looked genuinely concerned. Which, for someone who didn’t know me at all, made me increasingly uncomfortable.
“Do you wish me to apologise for my ignorance? I’m pretty sure I’m not the only human that doesn’t know anything about this shit.”
Xavier’s hardened face softened a little, as though he’d forgotten I was just another clueless human.
“No apology required, but an awareness would be beneficial for both of us.”
I scowled at him. “An awareness of what, exactly?”
“You need to acknowledge that your ignorance is a death sentence. You can either accept my help or your ultimate demise. It’s up to you.”
Xavier swiftly climbed out of his car and walked towards his front door, leaving me to stew in the passenger seat for a few seconds. I hated feeling out of my depth, but he was right. I didn’t know anything. I had no way of keeping myself alive long enough to find Jocelyn or Beth. My heart ached just thinking about it and I swallowed the lump in my throat before I followed in Xavier’s footsteps and got out of the car.
His house was just as I recalled, extravagant and yet homely. He had tossed his keys onto the marble worktops as he dipped down to pull something out of the fridge. He’d removed his jacket, leaving him in his bloodstained t-shirt and tailored trousers.
“I wasn’t prepared for company,” he grunted, tossing a packet of smoked salmon and a bundle of chives onto the bench.
“Strange, I thought you were always prepared for the unexpected?” I mocked, sitting down at the kitchen table and watching as he began cracking eggs into a bowl.
Xavier studied me coldly, but the dazzling smirk on his lips soon warmed his regal features. “Not when it comes to company.”
“What? You don’t have humans over for dinner regularly?” I stalled, considering my words. “Poor choice of words, I guess.”
“I don’t make a habit of entertaining at my home, no,” he replied, ignoring my too dark humour and instead focusing on whisking the eggs, seasoning with salt and pepper and chopping the chives.
“Could you grab the butter, please?” He asked politely, keeping his focus on the task at hand.
Slowly, I walked across to the fridge and opened the door, and studied the contents. He hadn’t been lying. There was barely anything inside. A half empty bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, a jug of water and an unopened pack of butter.
“You weren’t kidding,” I mumbled, grabbing the silver packet and opening it up. “Where are your bowl’s?” I asked, already rummaging around in his cupboards, leaving the doors ajar and swinging aimlessly.
“To your left,” Xavier replied.
“A-ha.” I stole the knife from Xavier’s chopping board and sliced a thin slither of butter from the block, putting it in the bowl and slipping it into the microwave. My eyes roamed over the numerous buttons and settings before settling on a standard thirty seconds. With a ding, I picked the bowl up and passed it to Xavier, who eyed me in confusion.
“You should whisk the melted butter into the eggs,” I explained. “Trust me.”
Without hesitation, he stepped closer and pushed the bowl of eggs towards me. “Be my guest,” he purred, placing the whisk in my hand and lingering there for a second. M
y breath hitched, locked in my lungs as his icy skin met with mine. His dark eyes roamed across my face, dipping down over my neck, my collarbone, before he took a few abrupt steps back.
“I’ll cut this,” he said, clearing his throat and opening the packet of smoked salmon, flinging thin pieces onto another chopping board and slicing it into bite-size chunks.
“You should change,” I said as I poured the melted butter slowly into the egg mixture. Xavier looked down at his top and nodded.
“Once you are fed.”
“In the three seconds it would take you to get changed, I’m pretty sure I won’t starve,” I argued. “Plus, that has to be a little unsanitary.”
With a grimace, Xavier rolled his eyes and pulled the bloodied t-shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor of his immaculate kitchen, without a care.
“Happy?” He quipped, but I was too busy studying the scars that patterned his chest and biceps. Deep, reddened scars that coiled around his solid muscles like snakes. No doubt Xavier had already noticed me staring, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away. For each second longer that I stared, I spotted another scar, and another. The flawless Xavier wasn’t as flawless as I had at first, though.
“I’m sorry,” I stuttered, finally averting my eyes, although he did not try to move.
“It’s fine,” he answered sharply. “I lost my temper; I should be the one apologising.”
“I understand how frustrating I can be,” I blurted out, louder than I’d intended. “I’m not a team player. I don’t like feeling like I’m the weakest link. It’s a character flaw, I guess.”
“I’ve worked with worse.” Xavier took a step closer, but paused, swiftly retracting his step. “I’ll go change. You seem to know your way around a kitchen. I trust you’ll manage, for now.”
Before long, I’d plated up two hearty portions of creamy scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, garnished with the chopped chives. In my exploration of Xavier’s chef’s worthy kitchen, I’d found a packet of bagels in the freezer and toasted a couple of them. Knowing I’d need something to help me sleep, I grabbed the remnants of the bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured myself an embarrassingly large glass.
I’d just finished my third gulp of the crisp wine when Xavier reappeared and took his place at the seat opposite mine.
I cleared my throat, setting the wineglass down and wiping any remnants from my mouth awkwardly. “I didn’t know if you ate food.” It was possibly the least eloquent thing I could have said, but it made Xavier’s serious expression lighten.
“It looks fantastic, thank you.” He dipped his head graciously, as though he were sitting down to a dinner of a far higher calibre. “I do.”
“You do what?” I asked, shovelling a large forkful into my mouth and covering my bulging lips with my palm.
“Eat food,” Xavier chuckled. “Do you mind?” His large hand reached for the bottle of wine.
“It’s yours. I just needed something to wash away the taste of that martini.”
Another laugh left his lips, rumbling in his chest. He now wore a crisp white shirt and a pair of relaxed, dark denim jeans. I felt strangely underdressed and glanced down at my dirtied clothing.
“Help yourself to anything during your time here,” he said, emptying the rest of the bottle into his glass. “I’ll have Mariella drop off some clothing early tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m sure I have something you can wear if you’d like to change.”
My mouth dried up, leaving the slightly stale bagel lingering in the back of my throat. It took all my determination to force it down so I could speak. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Mariella won’t mind.”
I raised my eyebrow and gave a curt laugh, “I might not know that well, but I’m pretty sure running your errands doesn’t thrill her.”
Xavier shrugged, “You’re not wrong there. But I pay her a lot of money and ultimately, that drives her to do as I ask.”
“Touché.”
The rest of our meal passed in remarkably comfortable silence. Once our plates were cleared, I insisted on loading the dishwasher, despite Xavier’s attempts at persuading me otherwise. I figured I’d given him enough trouble in the last few hours, and it was the least I could do. Manners weren’t always my strong point, but for just this once, I could give the courteous thing a damn good try.
“There’s a room made up for you on the first floor. It has an en-suite if you wish to get cleaned up before bed.” Xavier dried his hands on a clean white towel before hurling it over his shoulder.
“Thanks,” I said, shuffling from one foot to another.
“Is something bothering you?” He quizzed, clearly noticing my discomfort.
Knowing there was no easy way to ask, I took a deep breath as I tried to form a sentence. “What you did earlier… was it what I thought it was?”
His face twitched in curiosity, so I reluctantly continued.
“Look, everything I know about things that go bump in the night comes from watching old horror movies.”
Xavier’s eyes dropped, and he grabbed the tea towel, twisting it in his hands before launching it into the empty sink. He stepped closer to me, leaning against the kitchen bench and rubbing his hands down over his tired face. “You’re referring to the blood gifting?”
“Blood gifting?” I repeated, sounding as clueless as I felt.
“I gave you my blood to make you heal quicker. To strengthen you.”
“Well, that’s just as disgusting out loud as it was in my head.”
Xavier groaned quietly, as if struggling with himself. “I wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been necessary.”
It was as though he were trying to convince himself, not me. Still, though, my stomach churned with the thought, and I nodded, too exhausted to put up much of an argument.
“Do you always battle like this?” He asked suddenly, leaning even closer across the worktop between us. My fingertips edged against the marble as I tried to find my centre of gravity.
“What do you mean?” I questioned, acutely aware of the proximity of my hand to his. The tips of our fingers were spread out on the marble counter, mere centimetres away from each other. The tension was palpable, bordering on painful.
“This isn’t just a job for you,” Xavier began, his cool breath tickling across my flushed cheeks as he spoke so eloquently, his voice far smaller than it had been moments ago. “I feel this case is more personal than you’re letting on.”
My teeth gritted involuntarily, and I shook my head. “It’s complicated.”
Xavier smirked devilishly. “More complicated than vampires and a bounty being put on your head?”
My eyes widened, hearing the words echo around inside my head as though I hadn’t even considered them before now. “I had a friend just like Jocelyn. I understand how much pain her sister is in because I’ve been there.” I gulped, unsure why I was telling him any of this. “I’m still there.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Quinn,” Xavier spoke softly, honestly. As though he too knew the pain of losing someone that meant everything to you.
“I’ve not lost her, I just haven’t found her yet.”
Chapter Thirteen
My night comprised tossing and turning beneath the Egyptian cotton sheets in what I presumed was one of Xavier’s many spare rooms. I wanted to sleep. My body was begging for a release from this nightmare of a day. Yet each time I closed my eyes, I could feel that monster’s teeth sinking into my skin. Breaking the wound open and slipping his tongue against the torn flesh.
In a flurry of desperate movement, I tossed the covers from my body and perched on the edge of the mattress, pulling long, empty breaths into my lungs repeatedly until I was dizzy. All this time, I’d been searching for Beth in the human world. Presuming she’d been kidnapped or found herself in some sort of trouble—just another statistic of London crime. Each day that passed, I could feel myself getting further and further away from the truth. Now, I knew why. If Beth h
ad been taken by the same person, or people, that took Jocelyn, the chances were, she was never coming back. There was nothing I could have done or could do.
Existential crisis in full force, I tied the waistband of the designer gym shorts Xavier had given me to change into as tight as they’d go and pulled on the cosy sweater he’d left me. Both were ridiculously large, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t making a break for it, just hoping to pace the halls until my body and mind agreed I was too exhausted to continue. Walking over to the door, I turned the knob and peered out into the darkened corridor. Xavier’s room was a couple rooms over and the door was shut, with no light creeping out around the frame, so I presumed he was sleeping.
Lucky bastard.
Unsure just how sensitive those vampire ears of his were, I crept down the stairs on the balls of my bare feet until I got to the ground floor. I knew where the kitchen was, but so far I hadn’t been in any of the other rooms. First on the list, looked to be a living room, complete with grand Chesterfield sofas in supple grey and dark oak furniture. An enormous TV was mounted on the far wall while the others were adorned with imposing windows framed with long, flowing curtains in a deep navy to match the night sky.
Gently, I closed the door on that room and headed to the next, just off to the right of the staircase. I’d been expecting a study, or perhaps an obnoxious library lined with books on the occult—instead, my eyes homed in on Xavier’s half naked form. He was topless again, facing away from me and apparently unaware of my presence as his movements continued their slow, purposeful pace. I’d seen people in the park doing taekwondo before, but they’d never made it look as elegant as he did.
Hypnotised, I watched as his arms stretched with his palms raised and his legs followed the motions fluidly, as though in time with a song I couldn’t hear. The scars I’d seen earlier weren’t just on his chest, but his broad shoulder blades and back, too. My eyes refused to look away as he continued his routine, muscles working tirelessly beneath the skin to pull and push, drawing tight with each graceful motion.
Frozen in place, I couldn’t tear my gaze from him as he stalled, glancing over his shoulder towards me with a scowl on his heavy brow.
Silver Vein: Beneath the City Sleeps Book 1 Page 11
