by A. K. Koonce
“What? Just get some concealer. You’re my assistant, fuckboy. Run on out to Walgreens and get me a pale shade of concealer. We’ll be fine.”
“No. You,” he shoves his fingers through his inky hair and pulls hard. My hands lift to instinctively make him lower his fists down from his pretty locks.
“Stop,” I whisper. “It’s just a hickey. It’s not a big deal.”
Why? Why do I care if he hurts himself?
“No! It’s not just a fucking hickey, Kira! Jesus Christ, why are you humans so incredibly dense!?”
My heart dips at the sound of my real name on his lips.
Especially spoken in such a thick layer of anger.
“It’s a mark!” He looks up at me with wild blue eyes, like a storm crashing through the calm night sky. “It’s a mating mark, Kira,” he whispers like he’s been slain and he’s taking his last breath to give to me.
And it’s then that I see the problem.
I haven’t just been marked. I’ve been claimed.
By Prey.
Fuck me.
Fourteen
Kira
I want to kill him and hold him all at the same time for doing it. My rational mind argues that he has no control over these things, but my irrational mind is already digging a grave to bury him alive.
“I’m so sorry,” Prey says lamely.
He’s sorry?
He’s fucking sorry!?
He hates me! And fate foolishly made us mates? Partners for all eternity!?
My mouth opens but nothing comes out, and I don’t even know what I could say to this asshole who is supposed to be out looking for my sister’s murderer. Not claiming mates and building white picket fences to grow old with.
“I have to go,” I turn away from him on the heels of my shoes and I hear him slowly follow behind me. “Don’t.” That one word stops him oddly in his tracks, and I don’t know why he listens, but I’m thankful that he does for once.
I just… everything is just too much right now. Why? Why would the universe make me his mate? I don’t want to be in the same room with him, much less love his arrogant, petty heart.
Fuck!
I storm up a set of stairs on the opposite side from where we entered the croft.
I haven’t studied the church much, aside from peering through some stained glass windows, and I need to clear my head. Everyone will be resting soon. And while they rest, I’ll be doing what I came here for.
Finding my sister’s killer.
The staircase here is more ornate than the other cripplingly thin set of stairs. They must be a newer renovation. They twist upward while a pretty metal rail with grooves etched into it guides me toward the upper levels. It’s lit by glowing red lights that shine across the tips of my pointed shoes with every step I take.
A large hall opens up at the top. To the right is a small sort of library that spans across an upper level. Books line the walls on all sides. It’s a room decorated with rows and stacks of literature. It’s painted in shades of biography and fiction, with accents of collected poems. My heart dips and leaps and dips again, all at the same time. I know Kyra would have loved it as much as I do.
The enormous room is quiet and empty, save for a forgotten glass that rests on the mantel above a large burning fire. The embers crackle and I’m tempted to step into the room and stay a while,but my feet keep moving.
Unsure of what I’m supposed to be looking for, I simply map the building out and take mental notes of the layout as I go.
The following room is a large bathroom, and I would pass it by as well, but a glowing display of red lipsticks catches my eye. Various shades and luxury brands of all kinds line each side of the large mirror. The lights above the sink flash on the moment I step in front of it. And then I look up at what I know I’ll see.
My long blonde hair is still tied swiftly back, minus a few strands that came loose during the nap in my death bed. My eyes and features seem brighter beneath the blinding white lights of the vanity.
As does the small red marking that has appeared just an inch below my ear. A heart.
It’s literally a fucking heart.
Intricate lines slide through the middle of the shape, and they drip down in different lengths and columns in a modernly artistic way.
It’s… goddamn it, it’s cute.
Fucking adorable even!
I hate it.
I close my eyes slowly and wonder what it truly means to be a vampire’s mate. Prey said mates can share powers, but I don’t feel particularly powerful.
There’s a tingling like the numbing sensation of static through my arms and down my fingertips.
“Fuck!” I hiss as I try to shake off the weird feeling crawling up my shoulders.
I fling open the black cabinet on the wall and my hands clatter against the bottles of perfume and makeup kept in there. When I find what I’m looking for, I slam the cabinet closed and start shaking out the contents of the pale bottle.
The thick liquid slips over my fingertips and I pat it fervently over the offensive spot on my neck.
Full coverage in a house of flawless immortal vampires. I suppose some insecurities really do follow us all the way to the grave.
The thin red lines of the mating mark begin to hide away like a blemish that I wish would fade over time.But I know better.
I just don’t have time to dwell on giving my eternal heart and soul to some glitterless fuckboy.
I step away from the reminder of what lies beneath a thin layer of makeup and start to explore further down the hall. The deep red carpet is soft beneath my shoes and I sink just slightly as I walk. I stumble, the annoying point of my shoe kicking into the back of the other, and I barely right myself on the frame of a door.
It cracks open. Inside, an old man has his back to me.
Single strands of white hair hang from his head, his skin there sags in the shape of his skull, protruding in great ridges of detail.
The hair on my arms lifts with a shudder shaking my frame.
“Nicco! Nicco, fetch my glasses,” the man croaks.
He turns, and his features are a wash of pale coloring and deep purple bruising across his face. His eyes are so sunken in, I couldn’t guess the color if I were gazing into them up close. Long bony fingers curl out over a page he lifts to the lamplight on his ornate wooden desk.
I recognize Pavel by the unsettling memory of his photo.
Apparently it’s true: eternal life does not equal eternal beauty.
Footsteps sound slowly and another elderly man, but not quite a crypt-keeper like Pavel hobbles over to the front of the desk. I pull back just slightly to hide behind the door as Pavel puts on a large metal pair of glasses.
“She’s supposed to return today,” Pavel mutters, and my pulse nearly stops dead as I realize he’s talking about me.
“Yes, master. Ms. Vega and Mr. Royale arrived earlier this evening.” Nicco adjusts his own little black glasses, and the two men stare at one another for a long moment.
“Good. She keeps Royale’s head on straight when she’s home. Now, where’s my blood? Get me my drink before I retire for the day.”
I slip away from the two elderly vampires and nearly collide right into a third.
“Ah, Six,” Aston’s smirk crawls over his face as he looks down on me like I’m his dinner.
“Cardence,” I arch an eyebrow at the man I should have just killed already.
“Come again?” he says it so quietly it sends a shiver through my body.
“What?” I narrow my eyes on him.
“Say. It. Again.”
My jaw grinds.
“Say what again?”
His smile lifts even more, until two dimples kiss his cheeks.
“My name. Say my name again, Six.”
A red hot blush flashes over my face and I immediately turn to look away.
But I can’t appear weak.
It’s bad enough that I’m appearing less than supernatur
ally flawless in front of this creep.
Why are all the men in this church such sin-filled assholes? You would think the whole building would spontaneously combust from the sheer blasphemy.
I exhale slowly and pretend to crack my neck this way and that before looking back at the still sneering vampire.
“Listen, Cardence, you don’t scare me.” the thought of him raping and turning my sister flashes before my eyes and I crack my neck once more to stop myself from lashing out right here and now at a man who could easily rip me limb from limb if he wanted. “You’re nothing more than a narcissistic coward who gets off on tormenting women.”
His eyes flicker with a hint of red bleeding into the dark embers of green. His fingers clutch into my arms and he rushes me so fast I see stars when my head bangs against the wall.
“And you’re an overly emotional wet dream, Six.” He’s breathing so hard that I can taste his excitement with every word he says. “But you’re not Kyra Vega. So… that begs the question: who are you?”
His head tilts curiously as he gazes down on me with manic excitement.
My heart is pounding so hard I swear I might die of a panic attack before he ever gets the chance to put me out of my misery. He’s different from the others. He doesn’t look like he wants to eat me alive. He looks like he wants to smother me. He’s… desperately clingy.
“What are you?”
“Who are you?”
I roll my eyes at him and it just makes him smile harder.
Could this weird, pestering, pink-haired punk really have raped and turned my sister?
“I’ll answer your questions. Because you’re a stranger here, and I just know you’re filled to the brim with questions. So let me be your guide! And in return, you’ll tell me who you are and what you want.” He arches a dark eyebrow at me expectantly.
I shift in his hands, but he never releases me.
“Eventually,” I say in that same voice my mother used to use when telling Kyra and I “maybe” instead of yes or no.
He smiles harder, more alluringly if that is somehow possible.
A maybe is never a yes, Aston. Didn’t your childhood teach you anything?
His fingers ease their hold on me and he slides them down my arms slow enough to send a shiver racing across my flesh.
He likes it.
Why does he like every single little reaction that I give him?
Because he’s a fucking creep, my rational mind screams at me while my distracted, irrational heart can’t help but flutter when his fingertips tangle with mine before releasing me entirely.
“I’m an energy vampire. I feed on emotions instead of blood. And no one in Crimson City is as reckless with their emotions as you’ve been since you walked into this den of monsters just hours ago.” The man looks at me like the Cheshire Cat. “So. Who. Are. You?”
An energy vampire. That explains why he knew I wasn’t one of them within seconds.
I can deceive appearances, but I can’t deceive my heart.
“Are there others like you?”
He shakes his head. “Eh, not really. I’ve only ever met one other in a pub in Rome.” His flaming pink hair flips over his brow as he looks off with a reminiscent look in his pretty eyes.
I mean, not pretty. Puke green. Sickly green. Baby-poop green.
The kind of green the sea looks when poets and painters describe the waters just as the sun kisses the waves like God himself is touching the Earth with a little bit of Heaven.
Oh, my fucking God, what is wrong with me?
“Do you transmit your energy into others?”
“Aboso-fucking-lutely. You wouldn’t even give me the time of day if I wasn’t giving as much as I’m getting right now, Six.” His smirk is like sex and seduction with that disgusting word play.
And there we have it. He’s using his powers to brainwash me into being attracted to him.
I sigh and look away from his hard jawline and overly defined Adam’s apple. Since when did Adam’s apples become so damn sexy?
When I became brainwashed.
Clearly.
I step out, gaining a few feet of space between me and my sister’s tormenter. Then I study him for a few solid seconds.
He’s six foot something. Lean muscle tone, but that means nothing to a supernatural creature with more power than any childhood superhero. What sticks out the most… is his band tee-shirt and scuffed black and white sneakers.
They say the worst monsters live among us in plain sight. Do they all wear tattered Riverdales tee-shirts and tattered skinny jeans too?
“People are dying here,” I say casually.
His head bobs up. He eyes me skeptically, and suddenly it’s a contest of who the real suspect is.
Shit!
What if I’m the monster, and Aston is nothing more than a lost man searching for his own feelings?
Too gross to consider.
That can’t be right.
“The High Council of Crimson City has been dropping like flies,” he says more harshly than I would have expected. “Croft Four, Victoria Korven, Along with her assistant Rosalie Thames. And my own assistant just late last year. All three were disembodied slaughters of sex and blood. I’ve heard it’s happening all over Chicago as well.” His lips are curled as he looks at me, but not with that boyish charm he had just seconds ago.
But like a monster who truly does have hate hidden deep in his soul.
My stomach turns with disgust.
Something else keeps circling my mind.
“How did Victoria and Rosalie die?”
His jewel-like gaze searches mine. His teeth are bared far more than necessary, but he does answer the question.
“Just like the seven other human women this year. They were raped so brutally, Rosalie’s right leg was detached from her body. Her neck was fed on so hard that her head was only attached by a tiny scrap of flesh. Victoria was in worse shape, we could barely recognize her. The human women got it far worse than that even.”
This man’s feelings, violence and kindness alike are a whirlwind of emotions. I don’t think he even realizes it.
It’s getting to me more and more as I speak with him.
A dampness stings my eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if my sister suffered the same fate. But I can’t ask a suspicious vampire how I died, now can I?
A deep flood of feelings drowns me all at once, and I look up again to find tears streaking down Aston’s face. My hand lifts, and wetness meets my fingertips as I touch my cheek.
“You’re crying, Kyra Vega,” he whispers on a heavy breath.
I shove past him, my shoulder knocking his as I go.
“So are you,” I whisper right back.
Fifteen
Kira
I busy myself inside the small library in a chair that provides me with the perfect view of the staircase in the hall that leads down to the crofts.
One by one throughout the day, the vampires slowly descend to their coffins. Prey waits annoyingly just outside of the library door, like the perfect assistant and mate.
My reflexes kick up, recoiling at that last thought.
The list of things that keep me up at night are really growing out of control at this point. Prey being my undead boyfriend might just be the one that sends me over the edge.
Nicco helps Pavel down the stairs with his hand supporting the old vampire’s elbow, and they stop just before they hobble down.
“Goodnight, Miss Vega,” Pavel says with a perfectly rotten smile shining out through his dry, cracked lips.
“Goodnight, Pavel.” I bow my head to him, but lingers a bit longer.
“It’s nice to have you back. You do so much more for Rival’s health than you could possibly know.”
I pick apart his words and his demeanor, even as Nicco guides him back down the red-lit stairs.
Pavel has the appearance of a woman’s worst nightmare, but I don’t believe he has the strength to kill a high vampire like
my sister or the others.
I flip open the first edition copy of Dracula I found and scribble a quick note about Pavel on the torn printer paper I have hidden inside it. It isn’t much, but it’s also only my very first day here. The real notes will get taken this afternoon, while everyone is sleeping.
But so far, it’s not a bad collection of information.
Acessa Milane
Polite. But is she hiding something?
Aston Cardence
Has the strength and the arrogance, but his drive isn’t there. The boy has all the aspirations of a browning banana.
Pavel
…physically unfit.
Rival Royale
A lover is the first suspect.
He threatened me, twice.
Has the motive. And the ability.
“Are you writing… in a first edition!?” a horrified voice asks, and I snap my book closed on my notes as well as my pen.
I fling my head up to find Acessa with her mouth agape and her eyes wide with terror.
Wow. I really am the monster in this fucking church of villains.
“Um, no. I— Sometimes I just like to imagine what it’s like to write a masterpiece.”
She blinks at me.
“You’re different from when you left for Milan.” A soft smile pulls at her lips. “You were so quiet before. I like this change in you.”
“Thank you. I’m trying,” I smile back at her. Secretly. I’m listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering when she’ll be tucking herself into her coffin for bed.
“I’m sneaking off to see Louis. Would you want to come along tonight?”
“Louis?” I ask with a pull of my brow.
If she could blush, it would be consuming the wide smile on her face right about now.
“Don’t tell the others, but I’ve still been slipping out at dawn to go visit him. I really can’t thank you enough for introducing us, Kyra.”
Oh. That makes sense.
It also means Acessa could have a motive outside of the vampire’s Council. Do the wolves hate them? Could Acessa have let Louis in?
What about Vuitton? Is he hiding something by keeping Creature Control out of this business?
