by Jaye Wells
I plopped down the lid of the commode and sat gingerly on the edge. I lifted the cigarette to my lips, already anticipating the first drag as I clicked my silver monogrammed Zippo.
I watched the flame dance for a second before touching it to the tip of my Marlboro Red. Inhaling deeply, I prepared for the relaxation to begin.
Only it never came. Instead, a shrill alarm rang out.
The cigarette fell to the ground.
“Shit!” I squeaked, scrambling to grab it. The position caused my butt to bump the door. I grabbed the cig triumphantly, but before I could move, the door opened behind me. I flew backward and landed on my rear with a thump, smoking cigarette in hand.
“What the—” I yelled. But my tirade died on my lips when I saw the pair of faces looming over me.
“Miss Coracino!” Misty squeaked. “Are you all right?”
“What the hell are you’re doing?” Callum yelled over the keening of the alarm.
I held up the cigarette and said, “Filing my taxes?”
“You idiot! Who smokes in an airplane bathroom?” he said and grabbed my cigarette with distaste and tossed it into the sink.
“Hey! That’s mine!” I said as I scrambled to my knees.
“Did you not see the No Smoking sign?” He said, ignoring my outrage.
“Obviously I didn’t,” I lied. It was hanging clear as day next to the mirror. But I didn’t think it was smart to say that I ignored it since he looked like he wanted to strangle me. “Besides, it’s not like there’s some federal regulation about smoking on a private jet. Is there?”
“No, but my regulations state absolutely no smoking anywhere on the jet. That stuff will kill you.” Behind him, Misty nodded vigorously with a disapproving frown. It was refreshing to see an emotion besides perky on her face.
“In case it slipped your mind, we’re immortal. I’d have to fall asleep in a bed with a lit cigarette for them to kill me.”
Behind Callum, the door to the cockpit burst open, and the captain came rushing down the aisle toward us. “Mr. Murdoch, is everything all right?”
“Yes, our guest decided she couldn’t wait until we landed for a cigarette.”
Great, now I had three judgey faces glaring down at me. What was this? Glare at the gorgeous vampire day?
“Don’t stare at me like that. Callum, your help leaves much to be desired.”
Captain Hawk’s face turned a mottled shade of red, and he took a menacing step toward me. Misty’s lower lip trembled, and moisture made her blue eyes sparkle.
“Raven, Captain Hawk is hardly one of the help. He taught the Wright brothers a thing or two. And Misty is very good at . . . mixing drinks.”
Misty’s face crumpled. Captain Hawk looked like he was ready to throw me off the plane.
Callum opened a panel in the wall and punched in a code. The alarm abruptly shut off. All four of us sighed in relief.
“Will you get up already?” Callum said and grabbed my arm to lift me.
“Don’t manhandle me, Callum Murdoch,” I said, ripping away from his grasp.
“What are you gonna do, tell your daddy on me?” he challenged as he backed off.
As I struggled to gain my footing in the crowded corridor, I started to get angry. It was his fault I was on this stinking plane to begin with. It was his fault I didn’t get to have my cigarette. It was his fault I was still wearing the same freakin’ clothes I’d worn yesterday. And I am sure I could have thought of a dozen other things. So I did what any mature vampire female would do in my situation.
“Oh, real original, princess,” Callum replied to my one-fingered salute. “You can put that finger away, because I wouldn’t fuck you if my life depended on it.”
I ignored him and cat-walked my way back to the front of the plane.
His glare burned into the back of my head, so I put a little extra sway in my hips just to show him I wasn’t embarrassed about making an ass out of myself.
My motto had always been “Confidence should faked until it’s felt.” That approach had served me pretty well throughout my life. And I would probably be using it quite a bit over the next few months.
“You are going to sit in that seat until we land,” Callum commanded as he stalked to his chair. “And once we land you are going to keep your mouth shut and do whatever I tell you.”
“Excuse me?” I said, turning a glare on him that should have singed him.
“You heard me. Your father gave me complete control over you, and what I say goes. One phone call and your ass is on a plane to Norway.”
I bit my tongue and swallowed my retort. I was going to have to watch myself if I wanted to get through this charade. The reminder that I was at his mercy caused resentment to eat at me like acid, but I kept my mouth shut. I turned toward the window instead, watching the tiny lights which dotted the landscape far below.
Captain Hawk stopped by Callum’s seat on his way back to the cockpit after giving up on Misty. Apparently, all the excitement had been too much for the poor dear. She had locked herself in the galley and refused to come out.
“Mr. Murdoch, we are running a few minutes ahead of schedule. We should touch down at approximately eight p.m.”
Shit, only an hour until we landed. I had lain awake last night trying to come up with a plan for my three-month punishment. However, beyond “annoy Callum as much as possible,” I had no idea how I was going to play this.
The Murdoch family wasn’t a group of weaklings. Take Kira Murdoch, the matriarch of the family. At seven hundred years old, she was one of the elders of the Brethren Sect. She wasn’t on the council, but she held a lot of influence among the members. Fiercely protective of her family, she wouldn’t be rolling out the red carpet for me, that was for sure. Plus, like most elder vamps, she had a fine-tuned bullshit detector. She’d know immediately if I was planning on faking my way through my lessons.
So where did that leave me? I was at the mercy of a powerful family who wouldn’t hesitate to ship me off to an icy exile. Callum had already made it clear that he wouldn’t tolerate any rebellion. I was starting to wonder if the Land of the Midnight Sun might have been a better option.
After being briefed by the captain, the cabin was silent for several minutes except for the sound of pages turning. If paper could sound angry, then Callum’s magazine was furious. I peaked over my shoulder at him. His jaw was clenched so tightly I wondered if his teeth could withstand the force.
I decided it might be smart to extend an olive branch before we landed. After all, as much as I loathed the guy, three months was a long time to have him punishing me for smoking in the girls’ room. So I swallowed my pride.
“Callum? Would you mind if I had a bag of blood before we landed?” I said, trying to sound meek.
His head snapped up and his eyes narrowed.
“Are you serious? Last night you acted like you’d rather drink mud.”
“Look, I think we started off on a bad note. I have had some time to ponder my situation. I understand now that I have no choice but to change some of my habits,” I said, hoping I wasn’t laying it on too thick. “Besides, I’m starving. I figure if I want to eat for the next few months, I might as well get used to the taste, right?”
He stared at me for a moment before answering. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t call “bullshit” and laugh at me. Yes, I was doing this to manipulate him. But also, I really was starving.
Just then, my stomach decided to growl. Loudly. That must have convinced him because the next thing I knew, he rose from his seat and went to the bar at the front of the cabin. The overhead lights caused the golden highlights in his brown hair to glisten. He bent down and opened the minifridge. The action caused his faded blue jeans to stretch taut over an amazing ass.
I shook my head. He didn’t have an amazing ass; he was an ass, I reminded myself.
I had had a few run-ins with Callum over the years. Mostly I found him to be someone who got by more on charm than wit. H
e actually was considered quite a catch among the twittering single vamp chick population. I supposed I couldn’t blame them. After all, he had it all—a distinguished ancestry, money, looks, and a tight ass—dammit, my eyes wouldn’t behave for some reason.
He was a bit too white bread for my taste though. I liked my men with a little bit of an edge to them. They didn’t have to be smart, but they had to be interesting.
Oh, I also preferred it if they didn’t have me by the balls, metaphorically speaking.
“Would you like it heated?” he asked solicitously.
See what I mean? I had gone after his family and been nothing but a bitch too him for the last twenty-four hours, and he politely offers to warm my beverage. If I were him, I would have smacked me around a little and let me suffer. But this guy? Best manners. Sheesh.
I gulped at the thought of cold blood. But I had to soldier through this. Plus seeing the bag in his hand had my fangs already extending.
“Uh, no, that’s fine,” I said, extending my hand for the bag. I hoped he didn’t notice the slight tremble caused by stress and hunger.
He walked over and handed me the bag. His hand grazed mine in the exchange, and his fingers felt furnace warm compared to my clammy ones. I looked at the bag suspiciously. Other than last night, which was an extreme case due to my fainting spell, I’d never had anything other than fresh blood.
Despite my hunger, I didn’t know how any self-respecting vampire could tolerate drinking cold blood from a plastic bag. I’d normally rather drink from an anemic than ingest that sludge. But there was no helping that. If I wanted to stay strong, bagged blood was my only option.
“Cheers,” I said with a shaky laugh and bit into the bag. Cold, metallic-tasting blood spurted into my mouth immediately. My gag reflex threatened to act up, but I focused on swallowing as fast as I could. My instinct for feeding took over quickly, and soon I could almost feel my cells greedily absorbing the nourishment.
He watched me the entire time. It felt . . . intimate, him watching me feed. Normally I fed alone, with the exception of whatever criminal I had chosen for my meal. The added element of drinking a form of blood I normally shunned added to my sense of vulnerability. I tried to avoid his eyes, but when I finished the first bag, he immediately was there with another. I looked up at him in surprise. How did he know I needed more?
His expression wasn’t what I expected. Instead of mocking or smugness, I saw a touch of understanding in his gaze. I quickly looked down at the new bag and jabbed it on my teeth without thanking him. I was too hungry and too confused by everything going on to say anything.
I finished the second bag quickly and immediately felt energized. Callum held his hand out for the two limp bags, and I handed them over without meeting his eyes.
“That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” he said as he walked back to the bar to dispose of them.
Cold blood from a plastic bag tasted just as awful as it sounded. I was used to warm blood fresh from the vine, so to speak. But I supposed that the cold shitty stuff might not taste good, but it got the job done.
“I am sure I’ll get used to it,” I said diplomatically.
“When we get back, we’ll get you started on Lifeblood. Logan has formulated it so it tastes almost as good as the real thing.”
Whoop-di-freakin’-doo, I thought. Not only had I just drunk bagged blood, which I would have sworn two days ago would never touch my lips. But now I was about to take it one step further and drink faux blood. Oh, the humanity.
“Speaking of Logan, does he know about what’s happening? With me, I mean?”
Callum sat in his seat with a thoughtful frown. “No, I haven’t told him yet. I called Mother last night and filled her in, but we both thought it best to get you situated and see how things are going before we tell him.”
“I guess he won’t be too thrilled to see me again, huh?”
He snorted. “That’s an understatement.”
“So, what’s the game plan?” I asked. I figured forewarned was forearmed.
“Honestly, I don’t have everything worked out. Your father and I hashed out the big stuff, but he left the details up to me. I know the first step will be to get you on the sun allergy regimen—we call it Sun Shield. It takes about a week to take effect, so we need to get you started right away.”
I frowned. I hadn’t expected it to be so fast. I had lived an exclusively nocturnal life. The thought of stepping into the sun for the first time scared me.
“Don’t worry, they’re safe. Plus, Logan found a way to include the formula into Lifeblood, so after a couple days you won’t even have to think about taking pills.”
“Okay,” I said, tamping down my unease. “What else?”
He smiled a smile that put me immediately on edge. “I think that’s all I’ll tell you for now. The less you know, the less you can plan.”
With that, the tenuous truce was shattered.
“Asshole,” I said, abandoning all efforts to make nice.
“Bitch,” he said, returning my glare.
“Mr. Murdoch? We’re making our descent into Raleigh. Please fasten your seat belts,” said Captain Hawk over the loud speaker.
Callum and I ignored the announcement and continued to shoot daggers at each other.
Fasten our seat belts, indeed. It was definitely going to be a bumpy ride.
Chapter Four
The car was tomb-silent as we left the airport. I didn’t ask where we were going, and he didn’t offer up the information. Which was fine by me. I was exhausted and frustrated. My priority was finding a dark room in which to pass out for about four days.
Eventually, Callum turned his red Ferrari into the heart of Raleigh’s Hayes Barton neighborhood. Home to some of Raleigh’s oldest and most distinguished families, the area was a hodgepodge of everything from stone manors to brick colonials. The air filtering into my open window reeked of old money.
The neighborhood was quiet, with only a few cars passing under the stately old pine trees and oaks lining the narrow roads. After a few minutes, Callum turned into a driveway bordered on either side by a tall privacy hedge. The heavily treed lot combined with the large yard prevented a clear view of the house.
As we curved along the driveway, the house appeared—a glowing white apparition among the dark backdrop of vegetation and nighttime shadows. Two stories tall with white brick and black shutters, the house was a prime example of Federal architecture. But beyond the structural beauty, there was something . . . an aura about the house. If houses could have old souls, this one did.
I knew immediately this was not Callum’s house. The distinguished design and exquisite landscaping seemed too dignified for him. Instead, I pictured him in a trendy loft in the heart of the city’s social scene, all concrete and steel. Cold cash and hard business.
No, someone else owned this house. I sensed a shift in the power emanating from the house, like a low hum in my head, and realized it wasn’t the house giving off vibes, but a vampire. A very old one.
Kira Murdoch.
I wanted to ask Callum if I was right, but knew I’d find out soon enough. Besides, I wasn’t speaking to him. The fact he wasn’t speaking to me had no bearing on my decision.
He pulled the car to a stop on the circular drive, the wheels crunching on the grey gravel. Without a word, he got out and headed to the black front door, leaving me to follow.
He used the polished brass knocker and waited, still ignoring my presence. That was fine with me. If I was right, and this was Kira’s house, I was about to walk right into the lion’s den. A protective lioness who wouldn’t be too friendly to the hyena who recently threatened her cubs.
After a few moments, the door swung open, and sure enough there was Kira in the flesh. She smiled at Callum and pulled him in for a hug. Over his shoulder, she glanced at me. Her smile vanished. She squeezed Callum tighter for a brief second, closing her eyes as if to absorb every bit of sensation out of the embrace.
&nbs
p; “Mother,” Callum complained.
“Sorry dear, I’ve missed you,” she said with an overly bright smile as she pulled back from the hug.
“I was only gone for twenty-four hours,” Callum said with amusement.
She paused and said quite seriously, “Any amount of time away from one’s child can be painful, Callum. You’ll understand when you have fledglings of your own.”
Callum muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “subtle hint.”
I stood to the side during their interchange, feeling awkward. Watching her reveal her love for her son so openly made me shift uncomfortably. I told myself it was the damned boots again, but deep down I knew I was embarrassed to witness such honesty of emotion. The concept of expressing real emotion in front of others was completely foreign to me—unless it was anger. That I had no problem expressing in public.
“Well, come on in. I had Hannah prepare a snack,” Kira said to her son. Both ignored me as if they expected me to follow without hesitation.
I hadn’t really expected a warm welcome, but I figured I’d at least be acknowledged. I tamped down my frustration, though, knowing an attitude wouldn’t help me get through this. The meeting would probably set the tone for the next three months. Besides, I was outnumbered.
I followed the pair through the foyer and into a parlor to the left. While mother and son chatted, I took in the surroundings. As expected, the tastefully decorated house looked like a spread out of one of those interior decorating magazines. I chuckled to myself, imagining a publication called Homes and Gardens of the Damned with this house on the cover.
The walls of the sitting room were creamy beige. In fact, most of the room’s furnishing were variations of the color. A crystal vase overflowing with scarlet roses stood as a focal point on the mantel. The scent of the flowers gently sweetened the air. For all it’s expensive adornments, the room was welcoming. More welcoming than the expression on the hostess’s face as she turned to me.
“Raven, please be seated,” she said, motioning to a pair of Queen Anne chairs. She and Callum sat across from me on the sofa. Between us sat a glass-topped coffee table with elaborate scrollwork for legs.
