by SF Benson
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
URAELEUS
Empty bottles of Devil’s Mark and Crimson Ridge—the finest bottled blood available—along with the remnants of a half-eaten burger and fries are the evidence of our all-night parley. It’s something I haven’t done in at least a millennium, but we discussed a lot and I made plans. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes and yawning, I sit up. My body aches as if I did battle with a wild boar and lost. Pain crushes my skull, reminding me of the late nights of my youth. Holding my head between my palms, I pray for the vice grip to end.
“Here, Old Man.” The rumbling voice grabs my attention just as the smell of coffee reaches my nose. “These will help.”
When I squint upward, I see Victor’s outstretched hands—black ceramic cup in one and two white pills in the other.
“Thank you.” I swallow the medicine and down it with a swig of coffee. The after burn lets me know I should take pills with cooler liquids. I sit back and rest my head against the sofa. My tone instantly turns abrasive. “Shouldn’t you be asleep or in a coffin somewhere?”
The sofa cushion dips beside me. “I see a hangover doesn’t take the edge off your bitterness. If you must know, vampires don’t sleep. We rest. And I for one wouldn’t be caught in a coffin. That’s fucking morbid.”
Ask me if I care. “Whatever.”
Victor slugs my shoulder. “You ready to start living?”
I rub away the lingering pain. “Hangover or not… Punch me again, and you’ll find yourself in a coffin buried six feet deep or more.”
He laughs. “I’ll let that one slide, Old Man.”
My gaze swings to him. “Be careful, Vamp.”
“And this is the Uraeleus we all know and hate.” He tempts fate and hits my thigh. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
Fifteen minutes later, Victor’s Charger rolls up to the curb in front of the Arts & Crafts house I saw days ago. It’s a short walk to the brick-paved porch. Victor fumbles in his pockets for the keys.
One of the many things we discussed last night was my living arrangement with Cherina. Victor feels it’s important I establish myself—make a real claim in the human world. Purchasing this house is the first step.
When he opens the multi-paned glass door, a musty odor assaults me. “How long has this been empty?”
“Realtor said a few months. The owner was desperate for it to sell. We got it dirt cheap.” The vampire’s footsteps thud across the creaky, wood floor as he walks from the living room and into the kitchen. “The place is solid, Marc. You might want to do some work on the outside—painting, landscaping, and such—but I think it will serve your purposes.”
Following Victor from room to room, I take a few mental notes. This place needs some renovations. Maybe a contraption could be installed to help Antoinette get to the second floor? Off the kitchen is another room with a set of double doors leading to a wooden porch. Beyond it is another large building.
“What’s that, Victor?”
“A garage.” He unlocks one of the doors and yanks it open. “You’ve got to see it. It’s perfect for what you want.”
Starting a business is the second phase of my scheme. The enormous garage will do nicely. In one corner is a separate toilet area big enough for people to change clothes in. I could expand it and add a shower. Falls Creek doesn’t have a facility to train fighters. With the right equipment and the public’s interest in MMA, this endeavor could be profitable. Taking a deep, satisfying breath, I relax a bit.
But what if I’m wrong?
Worse… What if Antoinette isn’t interested in me?
Propping my ass against an abandoned wooden crate, I stare at the floor. Too much, too soon.
“What’s wrong now?” Victor asks.
“What if Antoinette doesn’t like it?”
He leans against the door. “First off, do you like it?”
“Yeah. I liked the place the first time I saw it. But—”
“It’s been a while since you maintained human form, so let me clue you in on some things. Women aren’t going to fall at your feet and want to move in with you on day one. That shit only happens in those romance novels Kelsie loves reading. Real women like Antoinette need time. She has to get to know you. While you two are getting familiar, you work on this place. Set up the training space. I’ll help you find clients. I’m pretty sure I can get supernaturals interested. You work on the humans in town.”
I shrug my shoulders. Of course, there’s a bigger problem. “Where do I get the money for it all?”
“Like all humans…you work. If you don’t mind the place, come work at the Temptation Club,” Victor innocently suggests.
“That’s Luc’s place.” When he learns I’m the one responsible for sacking his ass, he won’t want me anywhere near the Club.
“It used to be. Luc turned it over to me when I proposed to Kelsie. Luc can be a dick, but he’s a vampire in love with my mother. She wanted me to own the Club out right. You can work the door or manage the place. It’s up to you.”
My head rocks up. “What happened to what’s her name? The brown-skinned vampire?”
“Amy?” Victor rakes a hand through his messy hair. “She got bored with life here and went back to Europe. I’ve been running the joint since she left. Frankly, I’d rather spend my nights with Kelsie instead of—”
“I get it.” He can spare me the details of what vamps do for pleasure. “Sure, I can manage the Club. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll get you a set of keys. Start tonight or tomorrow. You have free reign to make whatever changes you want. All I ask is you make sure vampires are still welcome there. The Temptation Club is a feeding den. If that changes, you’re going to have a fight on your hands.”
Battling the undead, under any circumstance, is not my idea of fun.
“Got it.” I scrub my hands over my face. What I need is breakfast, a shower, and a long nap, but I need to check in with Antoinette. “How long before I can move in?”
Victor tosses me the keys. “It’s yours. Move in when you want. If you need anything, Kelsie will be happy to help.”
Pocketing the keys, I say, “You sure? Maybe you should check with her before—”
He shakes his head. “No need. Honestly, I’m worried about Kelsie. With this fucking exile we’ve endured, she hasn’t been herself. The house will give her a project until we can move back into town.”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I stand and extend my hand. Victor stares at it like he might get bit or some shit. I force a smile onto my face. Finally, he accepts the gesture.
“You’re welcome, Marc. One obstacle down. One more to go.”
Cherina knocks on my open door while I’m shoving clothes into a duffel bag. “What are you doing, Marcus?”
“Something I should have done in the beginning.” I tug the zipper closed.
Her eyes go to the open but empty dresser drawers. “I don’t understand.”
Sliding the bag to the floor, I point toward the bed. “Sit, Cherina. We need to talk.”
Her expression slips into a frown as she sits on the edge. “What’s going on, Marcus? Does this have something to do with the girl?”
My heart rate kicks up a notch as sweat trickles down my back. One would think a two-thousand-year-old man wouldn’t be nervous. The moths taking off in my gut say otherwise.
Be kind, Uraeleus.
Taking a seat beside Cherina, I reach for her hand. Would this be easier if we could have found a way to love each other—two supernaturals, two different species… I don’t think so. She clearly let me know she wasn’t interested in me in that manner.
“What is it, Marcus? Spit it out.”
Deep breath in. Now exhale.
“I value your friendship, Cherina. You’re the one I’ll always turn to when I need to talk, but this arrangement isn’t working for me.”
Her mouth opens, but I hold up a
finger. “Let me finish.” I pause for a moment to gather my thoughts. “When I left here last night, I did a lot of thinking. Believe it or not, Victor helped me clarify things.”
“The vampire?” Doubt colors her words.
“Yeah. We spent the night talking…drinking.” I rub my temple as a remnant of my headache lingers. “I got reacquainted with a hangover, by the way.”
A thin smile crosses her lips. “Go on.”
“You know my history. You said it yourself. I’m an asshole.” Facing Cherina, I say, “Thing is, I don’t want to be one anymore. I want a chance to find happiness.”
She pulls her hand away, pushes to her feet, and begins pacing the floor. “This was not our agreement.”
“Hear me out before you chastise me.” I hold my chin a little higher. Victor warned me I’m going to have to stand up for what I want—what I need. The crimson ebbing onto Cherina’s face alerts me I might be in for a fight.
“No, Marcus!” she exclaims. “You’re too damned old for this behavior. You wanted to save her and now this!”
Jumping up, I grab Cherina’s shoulders. “Stop it! This isn’t just about Antoinette. I want to live,” I admit.
Cherina’s head flinches back slightly. “Really?”
“Yes.” It’s what I’ve been grappling with every since I asked Cherina for the favor. Victor helped me see the truth. I gave Antoinette a second chance at life. It’s something I wish somebody had given me. Now that I have it, I don’t want to squander it. “I have never enjoyed anything in my life. The one time I thought I found happiness, I didn’t appreciate it. I didn’t appreciate her.” My hands go to my hair, pushing it off my forehead as I walk away from Cherina. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to live every day wrapped in hatred?”
“No,” she mumbles.
“It’s agony. Pure hell.” Stopping in front of the window, I pull back the curtain and look out. “I can’t tell you why I saved Antoinette, but I owe it to myself to find out.”
“And what if she doesn’t return your interest?”
“I’ll deal with it. I’m asking for a little time, Cherina.” Turning from the window, I say, “Let me see what kind of a man I can be this time around.”
“You need a plan, Marcus.” She tucks her hands into her dress pockets. “What are you going to do for money?”
“I have a job with Victor.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “Doing what?”
“Managing the Temptation Club. During the day, I’m going to run my own training facility. I have a house—”
“A house?” Cherina’s voice rises. “How?”
“Victor. And before you say it, he’s a good kid.”
Cherina folds her arms over her chest. “I know that. It seems you two are becoming fast friends.”
“Jealous?”
“Not even.” She smiles as she says, “I’m genuinely happy for you, Marcus. I’ll give you a little longer with your rental.”
A rented body? Now there’s a concept appealing to a necromancer. Is there a market for it?
After packing up the last of my belongings, I walk over to the hospital. At some point, I need to learn how to drive a car. This constant traipsing around on foot is going to get old real fast. If I could drive a chariot, how hard can a horseless vehicle be?
Pushing open the door, I find Antoinette’s mother in the room. The woman is a blonde version of her daughter. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Who are you?” her mother asks.
Antoinette jumps in, “Mom, this is Marc. He was the one who found us on the highway and called the paramedics.”
Her mother stands and reaches for my hand. Her eyes, filled with an inner glow, soften. “Thank you. I don’t know what we can do to repay you.”
“No payment is necessary. I’m glad I was in the right place.”
Before I can do anything to stop her, the petite woman wraps her arms around my middle and pulls me close.
“We shall always be in your debt.”
When I glance over at Antoinette, she shoots me a grin.
Her mother drops her arms and steps back, wiping at her eyes. “I’ll let you two talk. I only stopped by to let Antoinette know we’re almost ready for her to come home. Her dad has been working overtime with the builders, making sure the house can accommodate her needs.”
The smile fades from Antoinette’s face. “Tell him thanks. I’m looking forward to it.”
Mrs. Leoni kisses her cheek. “Two days, baby.” She tells me, “It’s good to meet my daughter’s savior. Marc, don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t.”
I have every intention of being more than a passing face in the dark.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Antoinette
“You didn’t come see me yesterday. Tired of me already?” I ask as Marc drags the chair over to my bedside and sits down.
“Not in the least bit. I simply had some thinking to do. Then I ran into a friend, and we spent the evening together.” Marc’s lips quirk up. “We stayed up most of the night talking.”
“Is she pretty?” Now why did I ask that? This man owes me nothing. Like Mom said, we are in his debt. But still… The thought of Marc with a woman bothers me. It shouldn’t, but it does—more than I care to admit.
Marc chuckles and his eyes squint, a twinkle of mischief residing there. “Well, there are some who would think Victor is pretty, but I’m not one of them.”
“Sorry.” My cheeks heat up. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You’re not prying,” he insists. For a moment, Marc’s eyes hang on me before he grabs my hand. Heat scorches my fingers as he presses a kiss to my knuckles. “Actually, you were the topic of conversation.”
“Oh?” My mind, however, is stuck on the gesture. There wasn’t anything innocent about it. The imploring expression on his face appraised me. Marc drank me in with one look. One hot, devouring look.
Marc rubs a thumb over my flesh and goosebumps emerge. I swear his touch is maddening. Maybe it’s a good thing I can’t get out of this bed. I’d end up in his lap, and I’d do…things. Shameful things.
He shoots me a knowing grin, and my cheeks heat up. How embarrassing.
Marc swallows a few times before saying, “I have a house now. It’s going to take some renovating to get it user-friendly. When it’s all done, you’ll be able to get around it easier.”
Get around it easier?
Oh, fuck!
Oh, wait just a minute! Marc is undeniably gorgeous. I’ll be the first to admit that there’s some weird chemistry going on between us which thankfully, neither of us can act on. But moving in with him? I don’t have to ask what he’s thinking. I can read every one of his thoughts—the innocent ones, the polite ones, the decadent ones.
What do I do? I can’t run for the door. Shit like this only happens in bad movies. We don’t know each other. Why would he buy a house and fix it up for me? My breath snags a hold onto something in my chest. A slew of emotions course through Marc. His expectations are deeper, more intimate than I care to admit. Admission would mean deciding what I want from him. Something I’m not ready for.
“Marc? We can’t—” I say, gripping the covers, hoping he doesn’t notice my trembling hand.
Disappointment covers him like a blanket—his eyes lose their sparkle, he frowns, and his shoulders sag. Marc’s voice is flat as he says, “No worries. I just want you to be comfortable when you visit me.”
“Right,” I say slowly. That’s not what he wants. He’s trying to spare me, not push me into something I might not want. I’m grateful for it.
Marc pushes to his feet. “I probably should go. I forgot to tell you I have a new job.”
My heart skips a beat. I want to plead with him to stick around, have dinner with me, anything but leave me alone. Moving past my disappointment, I say, “What type of job did you get?”
“I’m the new manager at a club in town.” He smiles thinly. “No
place you would have gone.”
“What’s it called?”
Marc’s eyes lift to meet mine. “The Temptation Club.”
“No. I wouldn’t have gone there.” It’s the one place Abby warned us against. She said it was a creepy hangout for supernaturals—the kind you don’t want to run into after dark. “How did you get that job?”
“I know the owner,” Marc admits. “He’s who I hung out with last night.”
Quiet takes over and stuffs itself into every nook and cranny of the room. Marc shoves his hands into his pockets. I fidget with the edge of the blanket. The silence is unbearable. Did I cause this? Spirits must be fragile beings. I would have never guessed my unwillingness to jump into an unfamiliar situation would shut this man down.
Maybe I’m looking at it all wrong. Seeing it as a predicament instead of a gesture of friendship. Marc might simply want to help with my recovery. That’s why he’s having his house renovated. Which, of course, means only one thing. I’m a fucking charity case. The last thing I want to be, especially to him.
Make up your mind. You can’t have it both ways.
“You should go then,” I reluctantly point out. “I’d hate for you to be late on your first night. It makes a poor first impression.”
The safest course of action is to push him away. Letting myself get attached to someone who’ll never see me as more than an invalid is stupid. I’m a burden. Marc needs to find someone who can appreciate him in every way possible—in ways only a woman with two good legs can.
He nods slowly and says with a sigh, “You’re right. I’ll try to stop by tomorrow. I’m free during the day.”
“You don’t have to.” I give Marc a half-hearted shrug. “You heard my mother. I’ll be going home soon. If I haven’t said it yet, thank you for saving me. My parents would have been devastated had I died.”
Marc stares at me with an unsmiling face. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead he presses his lips together, bobs his head up and down, and walks with heavy steps to the door. He doesn’t even look over his shoulder.
