Bastian GP

by Marie Johnston

  If the Segals followed, she didn’t pay attention.

  When Ophelia arrived, Bastian on her heels, the four employees were all in the dining room, murmuring amongst themselves.

  “Did Lora come on to Quentin?”

  Four pairs of surprised eyes landed on her. The younger woman covered her mouth as if horrified by the thought.

  “Pardon?” The older female blinked, her rheumy gaze perplexed.

  “Lora and Quentin. Anything inappropriate. Did any of you suspect something not quite right was going on?”

  They stared at her.

  “Tell me!” Ophelia would personally interrogate each one—and enjoy it—if they didn’t start talking.

  The younger male raised his hand. This wasn’t a fucking schoolroom, but Ophelia restrained herself. As long as one of them told her something.

  “I thought— I mean…” Guilt crossed his face. He might feel like he was throwing Lora under the bus, but that was the last thing he was doing. “When the master and madam were out of the house, I mean…” He swallowed. His eyes went wide as his employers rushed into the room.

  “Anything you have might help us find young Quentin,” Bastian said softly.

  The male nodded, and resolve infused his expression. “She’d unbutton a few extra buttons when they were gone. She was always bringing him extra treats.”

  “Yes,” the older male said. “I made turnovers for breakfast one morning and she took a half dozen of them for the young master. I had to make another batch.”

  “Oh dear.” The older female pressed her fingers to her temples. “I’m afraid I didn’t notice a thing. She was always such a hard worker that I never faulted her for any time she stole away.”

  “I did.” The female cook snorted. “The attractive ones never have faults. I could barely get a day off for my own mating.”

  “Really, Bea. That was a decade ago,” her male counterpart said.

  “I got one day off,” Bea snapped. She spoke to Bastian. “As for Lora, she met someone. We haven’t seen so much as a selfie, which is unusual for her. She was always shoving selfies of her last boyfriend in our face before he dumped her because he was sleeping with his employer.”

  “Who was that?” Bastian asked.

  Bea shrugged. “I don’t remember his name. I tried to ignore her. But he was a foot waiter at the Caron manor.”

  Ophelia glanced at Bastian. He failed to hide the surprise on his face, but at least his mouth wasn’t hanging open. She didn’t believe in coincidences. Gaston was banging Susanna and heard about a get-rich-quick scheme she’d learned from her foot waiter, and as for Lora—playing all sides? Or revenge at getting dumped? Didn’t matter. She needed to be stopped.

  Bea sighed. “And yes, as for her catering to Master Quentin, I’ve been on the verge of saying something.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Ophelia’s tone was hard. If Bea had said something, Quentin might still be here.

  “Because it would’ve been me against Lora, and she can do no wrong in this house.” Bea dipped her head respectfully toward her employers, but her consternation toward her coworkers was clear.

  Madame Segal stalked forward, her face tight with anger. “You suspected Lora was acting untoward with my son and yet you said nothing?”

  The younger of the males replied without hesitation. “Would you have believed me? Or when the young master contradicted me, would I have been fired? Would my word have even stood up against Lora’s? I have three young of my own to feed and jobs aren’t plentiful.”

  Madame Segal made a disgusted sound. “I should fire all of you.” She stormed out. Master Segal looked like he wanted to run after her, but he needed to stay and suss out clues of Quentin’s whereabouts.

  Ophelia didn’t care what he chose to do. Daylight was approaching and her continuously crawling skin needed a breather from the haunting reminders of her past. She’d get every detail of Lora’s life out of these guys, and come sundown, she’d be back on the streets, hunting for the woman.

  ***

  Bastian listened closely as the four vampires spilled details about Lora. The maid hadn’t wormed her way deep into their hearts, nor had she encouraged heavy animosity. Lora had been pleasant enough, but she’d done a few things to undermine each person she worked with. She’d definitely been the heart of the Segals’ home.

  Lora had worked in the home of one of their former government members. After the government fell and her former employer walked into the light rather than face a life without immense power, his prestige had preceded him when she’d applied at the Segals.

  The Segals hadn’t believed their good fortune when a quality employee with a formidable résumé applied to work in their home. It gave them a certain cachet with their counterparts.

  Bastian knew of Lora’s former employers. The Gastons had been morbidly delighted to witness their downfall, as if they’d forgotten the way they’d prostrated themselves in the fallen family’s presence.

  Perhaps that arrogance had imprinted itself onto Lora and she’d felt destined for bigger and better things. Or she was reeling from her breakup and wanted to get back at her ex in a big way. Either way, mission accomplished.

  They finished their interrogation, then searched Lora’s room and found nothing. There had to be another place the maid did her dirty work. With dawn so near, Ophelia decided they’d start their search at Lora’s former place of employment. The place had apparently been up for sale since the death of its owners.

  Antonia hadn’t been the only target. The underworld was cultivating prime children for hosts. Concern for Ophelia steeped his blood. Her features had grown pinched and her posture rigid since they’d discovered Lora’s treachery. It’d been a boon when talking to the rest of the Segals’ staff. Their fear of Ophelia had reached new heights by the time the interrogation was done. Her demeanor said Don’t fuck with me, and if I catch you lying, I will hold you down in full daylight myself and enjoy the burn.

  He’d been next to her all night, but now that the questioning was done, she’d closed in on herself.

  She handed him the car keys. “You take the car back. I have somewhere to go.” She wasn’t asking.

  He accepted the keys. “Would you like company? Someone to talk to?”

  She cast him a disgruntled look. “I’m a big girl. I think I will be okay.”

  “Doesn’t mean you have to deal with it alone.”

  “I have for longer than you’ve been alive,” she snapped.

  “My offer remains,” he said as he climbed into the sedan.

  She gave him one last look, as if to question why he’d be willing to lend an ear in the first place.

  Ophelia LeFevre. So strong no one realized how much weight she shouldered. She disappeared.

  He sighed and threw the car in gear. The drive back was quiet. His thoughts bounced from Antonia to Quentin to Ophelia.

  Finding his way back to the compound was easy enough. He parked the car and shut the garage door, but he didn’t get out.

  His mind was a jumble. So many details to sort through and feelings to deal with.

  His worry for Ophelia was paramount. He didn’t doubt she’d be okay. She’d close it all back inside and remove herself just a little more from the world around her.

  Her own past had been unearthed by the occurrences of the last few days. His had also, though in a different way.

  He missed how he’d grown up. He missed his parents.

  Was his old home still standing?

  Suddenly, the urge to check hit him. He had an hour before dawn.

  No, he should stop in to see Antonia. But the girl was well cared for and she’d still be awake after sunrise. He’d never wanted to visit his childhood home as much as he did now. Right now.

  While he’d been working, there’d been no time to visit the place he’d grown up in. The only time he’d been back was when he and Antonia were fleeing her father. Th
e short stop had kindled a yearning inside him to return for a longer visit. His duty still demanded his attention, but what would one hour hurt?

  He stepped outside and envisioned the trees that surrounded the small home he’d grown up in. No one would have built around the cabin; it was too rural. It’d ruin the night to appear in someone’s living area, especially if they were human. And if someone was living in his old house, then he’d be far enough away to not be seen.

  Crisp winter air greeted him, carrying the fresh smells of the great outdoors. The scene around him was achingly familiar. A stark cabin in a clearing, surrounded by skeletal trees that had lost their leaves for the winter but were preparing to come to life in the spring. Only the wind rustling through bare branches made a sound. It was night and even the birds were asleep.

  His breath puffed in front of him. The place was dark. No one lived here. No one had demolished his childhood home. Relief seeped in with the cold. No one had cared for it, either. Only the quality craftsmanship had saved it from falling into total disrepair.

  The boots he wore would stand up to the cold, but there was no need to traipse through brittle wild grasses and twelve inches of snow. The cabin still looked sturdy enough and the wraparound porch was probably as solid as the day his father had built it.

  He flashed onto it. His gaze swept the yard. Barren. Desolate. The clearing in the woods his father had made for the cabin was being encroached upon by young saplings. He couldn’t see beyond the mature trees, but a half mile away was a lake he used to swim in under the moonlight with other campers.

  The trail to the beach had long filled in. His parents had kept it clear, wanting some distance between the campground by the lake and their cabin.

  He inhaled. The subtle but pungent scent of mouse nests and critter dens filled his lungs. The cabin had been abandoned by humans and vampires alike, but it provided shelter for several other species.

  A faint smile touched his lips, then his brows pulled together. The place was beyond any city’s limits but had no one cared for it during all this time?

  A soft squeak carried through the gentle breeze. His brows knit together. That wasn’t an animal.

  He pivoted, staying as silent as possible. The wind that had flowed against his back now hit him in the face. He was downwind of whatever had made the sound. A light floral scent wafted across him, but he shook his head. Since he’d met her, Ophelia was never far from his mind.

  Unable to see around to the back of the cabin, he picked his steps down the length of the porch. Heel to toe, he took each step.

  A frame came into view. An empty hammock swung in the breeze.

  That hadn’t been there when he’d lived here. It was one of the newer styles of hammocks with a standalone frame.

  A force plowed into his back, shoving him down. He landed with an oomph, barely breaking his fall in time with his hands. His head got shoved into the frigid planks, and a light weight settled on his back.

  “Bastian?” The power holding his face down eased, but Ophelia’s knees were still in his shoulders.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, not bothering to try rolling over. The warmth of her body seeped through him and he was reluctant to make her move. He was right where he needed to be.

  “What are you doing here?” Tension from her vibrated through him.

  “After the night’s events, I had a strong urge to visit my childhood home. How do you know about this place?”

  “This was your home?” She popped off him but stayed kneeling next to him.

  He rolled to his side to face her and propped his head on his hand. “Yes. Is the hammock yours?” The corner of his mouth lifted at the thought that she’d made herself at home in his home—what had used to be his home.

  Indecision warred on her features. Was she embarrassed about being caught here?

  “Were you and Antonia here the other night?”

  He’d almost forgotten. He’d been bleeding, and his scent probably laced the snow. “I needed to get to a place Master Gaston didn’t know about. The cabin was the first thing I thought of.”

  “I wondered if I was imagined things.” She shook her head. “Yes, I bought this property several years ago. It’s my spot.” She said it as if to make a point.

  “Did anyone own it before you?” Why a cabin? She’d have a manor. And why had she bought it if she was going to let it fall down around her ears?

  Her expression softened. Had she expected him to claim it was still his and fight her for it? “I found it when I was looking for a vacation home. The company I bought it from had sold the campground and tried renting the cabin, but it didn’t make enough money to cover the upkeep. Too far from the lake, he claimed. Someday I plan to fix it up, but for now I need the solitude.”

  “It’s a good place for that,” he agreed. He couldn’t fault her for having a refuge. “Does anyone else know about it?”

  She shook her head, her gaze assessing. It was like she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. People were going to try to hurt her or use her. To her, that was life.

  “I should go and let you be then.” He sprang up.

  She rose. The top of her head fell below his chin. “Why’d you come tonight of all nights?”

  He hadn’t known until she’d appeared. Her presence here had called to him, but he’d make her uncomfortable if he admitted that. “I’ve always wanted to come back, but I’ve been too busy. Why’d you buy the property?”

  “I wanted a place of my own.”

  “You could’ve bought any house, any other cabin. Why here?”

  She folded her arms. Her feet shifted until she looked like she was going to square off with him. “Because I found it.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Exactly. It spoke to you, didn’t it? Just like I suddenly had to visit when you were here sorting out your recent emotional upheaval.” He stepped closer to her until she had to tilt her head back to keep eye contact. “Just like I can’t quit thinking about you. Just like I couldn’t maintain my standard distance and get to know you but had to taste you instead. I had to feel you.”

  Her lips parted, and her gaze touched on his mouth. It burned like a brand. Every time she looked at him or touched him, she marked him in some way. Or was that wishful thinking?

  “What are you trying to say?” she asked.

  “I’m trying to say I think our meeting wasn’t coincidence.” I think we could be true mates. He couldn’t say the words. She’d only run.

  She shook her head as her only denial. Until mates were officially bonded, the connection could be hazy. He’d hoped his would be crystal clear, but in Ophelia’s case, it might be best if it wasn’t. If she had time to warm up to the male. But was the male him?

  “It’s okay if you don’t trust me yet. I will strive to earn it.” His fingers twitched to touch her, but he’d said his part.

  “How do you do that? How do you know just what to say?” She charged him, pushing him back against the wall. Her arms twined around his neck and jerked him down.

  The frigid winter air, the approaching dawn, it was all forgotten as his lips crashed against hers. She was in his arms and it struck him again how right it felt. Being with her, like this, made it clear why he’d kept all the other females at a distance. He’d been patient, and he’d built relationships, but only after he’d had to talk himself into it.

  With Ophelia, he had to talk himself out of stripping her down and sinking into her welcoming heat. This was not going to be a repeat of last night. She deserved more from him.

  But he had a little time yet. Tingling along his skin coincided with the rising sun, but he caressed her tongue with his, taking his time.

  When her fingers curled into his shirt above his waistband, he gently broke them apart. He couldn’t carry it further even if he wanted to. With her prime blood, she could tolerate the weak rays of early daylight. He could not.

  “I hav
e to get into shelter.”

  “We’re standing by a shelter.” The husky note to her voice zinged straight to his manhood. “We’ll flash back at twilight.”

  Even twilight would be uncomfortable for him. His parents had lived on the wild side without a basement. Anything not cleared out would be musty and varmint-ridden. And it was winter.

  “I want to be with you, but not like this. I don’t want our first time to be freezing cold and full of dust.” Especially if the dust was his ashes from hitting the sunlight.

  “All right.” She turned away. “You go on back.”

  She went from blazing hot to icy cold. Had he hurt her feelings, or was she afraid to get too close to him?

  “We don’t have to do anything, Ophelia, but I’d like to go back with you and spend more time together.”

  “And I’d like a good fuck.”

  Her words punched him where he throbbed for her. His control of his body slipped, and his erection grew. “I can give you that, too.”

  The only problem was that she’d want to leave it at that. He was strapping in for the long haul, and with Ophelia, it promised to be a bumpy ride. But he wanted more than one night with her.

  Interest lit her dark gaze. “Promise?”

  He’d break his back trying. “Yes.”

  She grabbed his hand and they flashed back to the compound. Without a word, she led him through the halls. His place or hers?

  They took a turn that must lead to her apartment. His pulse sped up. He never got a case of nerves on a date.

  She let him into her place. He took a moment to get oriented. The compound was like a dormitory but with suites, and her place was a lot like his. Nothing adorned the walls, but a pale purple crocheted blanket hung over the back of her couch and a star-patterned lilac doily decorated her table. Small touches of home, but it was significant that she’d laid so much claim to the apartment.

  Her wildflower scent surrounded him and sudden insecurity hit. She was used to fornicating. Fucking to fuck. Could he do this with nothing but the hope that they were meant to be together?

  She unhooked her weapon belt and draped it across the counter. He did the same. She unhooked her shoulder holster and undid the knives strapped to her legs. He didn’t have that much, so he took his boots off instead.