by Jess Haines
His lips twitched as he suppressed a smile, turning away to head down the stairs without another word.
Chaz levered himself up on his elbows, chuckling. “Ease up, sleepyhead. Much as I hate admitting it, he did save your life.” He reached out to brush a hand over my cheek, tucking some stray curls behind my ear. “Don’t be too hard on him yet. We still have to put up with him for a few days. You can give him hell after the bond wears off and you don’t have to stay here anymore. Sound good?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I muttered, chastised but unrepentant.
We went downstairs and enjoyed some of the best food I’d ever had. Someone had done a run to La Petite Boisson, the exclusive French restaurant Royce owned, and picked up something special from their kitchen. The cream sauce on the sautéed chicken tasted divine. Devon, Tiny, Chaz, and the other two werewolves ate with gusto. If they felt any tension for having Mouse hovering over them, watching them eat, none of them acted like it.
I was glad to get my own clothes back, now nicely washed and neatly folded with the belt and guns arranged on top of the pile. Even my trench coat had been cleaned, smelling again like fresh leather instead of the charnel reek of blood. Someone had done a reasonably good job of figuring out my size, and a pair of designer jeans and a light sweater had been set aside for me in case I didn’t want to wander around looking like I’d walked off the set of the latest Terminator movie.
Royce’s people had been busy elsewhere, too. There was no sign of my battle with Peter anywhere in the hallway on the second floor. The body and all the blood had been cleaned up, leaving the place smelling of some strong cleaner and a fresh coat of floor wax. If the eggshell white walls had been spattered with gore during the fight, you couldn’t tell it anymore.
I didn’t want to think too hard on Peter’s death. I also wasn’t brave enough to go see if they’d done the same cleanup job in the basement.
You might not have ever known the Showdown from Hell had taken place here last night. Of all things, it looked normal. The only sign of a cleanup job was the lingering scent of ammonia. The few people puttering around the halls barely took notice of us, giving polite nods or smiles, for the most part ignoring the interlopers in their midst. Their lack of concern was downright eerie.
The only ones who paid us any mind were Royce and Mouse. Royce showed up before we’d finished our meal. The two vampires watched us eat with an odd sort of fascination. Maybe they missed eating solid foods. Admittedly, it might have bothered me more if I hadn’t been so intent on watching Royce in return. It took actual, physical exertion on my part not to get up from the table and move closer to him, to touch or please him somehow, to do something to make him turn a warm smile on me just one more time.
It took more effort than I wanted to think about to excuse myself to flee to another room so I wouldn’t act on those urges. I borrowed Chaz’s cell phone and a pad and pen from Mouse, grimacing when I saw it was past seven o’clock on Monday night. Jen was probably wondering what the hell happened to me and Sara. I doubted my partner had gone in to the office either, what with Arnold being in jail and all.
Though I did want to find out how Sara and Arnold were doing, the first thing I did was call my own cell phone to collect any messages. The cheap piece of plastic crap was probably long dead and gone. I only hoped Max hadn’t thought to copy down any of the contact info stored in the phone before he destroyed it.
When I called, it went straight to voice mail, which was completely full. I resigned myself to listening to all the messages, taking brief notes. Half the messages were from some obnoxious reporter who had somehow gotten my private number. Two were from Officer Lerian. I had a bad feeling he wouldn’t take any excuses about why Chaz and I hadn’t shown up to give our statements. One message from Sara, another from Arnold, both wondering where I was. Two from Jen: one about a client calling to follow up on her case, and another asking where Sara and I were since it was well past ten on Monday morning and should she rebook my appointments for later in the week.
Worst of all, three messages were from my parents. Two from my mom, falling into hysterics both times. First, because of something in the news about me being attacked by Peter and looking like I was being all kissy-face with Royce, and another because the cops swung by and said I was reported missing.
The worst one was from Dad, who sounded nice and level–the deceptive calm before the storm. He told me to call back and explain what I was doing messing with the Others again and mentioned how my mother was worried sick. He wanted to know exactly why I hadn’t said anything about being contracted to Royce for the last six months or so and expected to get answers as soon as I got his message.
That was a phone call I was not looking forward to making.
So first I called Sara. She’d used her best lawyer-speak and still hadn’t been able to get Arnold out of the slammer. Apparently, Royce’s description of Arnold “causing a bit of a scene” was an understatement.
Sara said they weren’t letting him go until he agreed to release the detective who had been questioning him. He’d used some metaphysical superglue to keep the officer’s butt adhered to his chair while Arnold went to find someone who would listen to him. The other officers didn’t take it very well. Since he hadn’t technically hurt the guy, they couldn’t do much more than keep him locked up until he agreed to release the spell. Arnold was sticking to his guns and demanding the officer apologize for calling him a spark, a no-talent Copperfield rip-off, and a few other more creative epithets, before he’d let him go.
So far it was still a stalemate, though Sara said when she went to grab some coffee, she saw the odds on the betting pool was on the officer cracking in the next two to three hours. Rumor had it the chief was getting pissed and putting the pressure on him to apologize, particularly after Sara started hinting that a discrimination suit would be forthcoming after the officer used those delightful little expletives against someone who’d come to him for help, not as a suspect.
We laughed about it together and I told her where she could find me. I didn’t give her the dirty details about what happened last night. This morning. Whatever. That could wait until we were face to face.
I didn’t have a number to reach Jen and tell her I was okay, but Sara reassured me she’d told Jen we’d both be out for a couple of days, and to rearrange our schedules. That was nothing new in our line of business. Hopefully Jen didn’t find it too alarming.
I did want to work out swinging by the office tomorrow so I could wrap up the Pryce investigation and ship the invoice off to the agent, Cheryl Benedict. As long as the insurance company paid on time, which they mostly did, the check would cover next month’s rent. Officer Lerian would have to wait until I found out from Royce exactly how much was safe to tell the police about what Max had done. Obviously he didn’t want them involved or he would have called them in while Max was entrenched in his home.
No way was I calling the reporter back. That left my parents.
It was cowardly of me, but I was relieved to get the answering machine instead of the panicky voice of my mother or, worse, the cold, iron-hard tones of my dad. I left a message, figuring that was better than leaving them completely in the dark.
“Hi, it’s me. I’m sorry I haven’t called back for a couple days, but I’m fine. Everything is okay now. My cell phone is missing, but I’ll call you when I get back home in a few days. I love you both.”
I ended the call, feeling immeasurably relieved at not having to explain myself any further. Maybe staying here with Royce for a few days was a blessing in disguise. It would give my parents time to blow off some steam.
It would also give me time to come up with a suitably PG version of what my life had turned into these last few months so my parents wouldn’t go into an apoplectic fit when I explained why I’d legally bound myself to a vampire. Somehow, I’d also have to figure out how to keep them in the dark about Chaz being a Were and Arnold being a mage. My parents are very Cathol
ic, and while I wouldn’t say they go to every Sunday Mass, they still think of anything Other as an abomination against God. Not that I could blame them. I’d felt that way, too, right up until I’d gotten close enough to see beyond the furry or fanged exterior.
When I was done with my calls, I wandered back to Mouse’s living room, noting before anything else that Royce had gone. The rest of the guys were talking to each other in hushed tones. They quieted the instant I walked into the room, silencing their obvious plotting.
“What’s happening?” I asked, tossing Chaz his cell phone.
He fumbled it–which solidified my notion they were up to some no-good, down and dirty scheming without me. A Were, graced with some of the most uncanny speed, strength, agility, and heightened senses of all the Others, having a tough time catching a cell phone? Please.
“Nothing to worry about,” he reassured me, a little too cheerfully, a little too quickly. I frowned at him. “I have to go to work. I’ve already missed a few appointments with my regulars, and I can’t miss one of my new leads tonight.”
Chaz was a personal trainer. Lifting weights was a tad redundant considering his nature, but hey, it did fabulous things to that already fabulous body. I could hardly complain.
“All right,” I said after a noticeable pause, still wondering what exactly they had been talking about. “What time will you be back?”
A shamefaced expression crossed his features as he floundered a bit attempting to come up with a reply. It dawned on me he’d been plotting with the other guys to find a way out of here. I narrowed my eyes at him and folded my arms. This better be good.
“I’m not sure. I’ve got some stuff to get done tonight. Some pack business to attend to, that sort of thing. It may keep me pretty late.”
Hmph. He was probably trying to get out of here because he didn’t want to be hanging around a vampire’s den. I knew the feeling. If I wasn’t coasting on the bond, I’d have been clawing at the walls trying to figure out how the hell to get out of here, too. After all, I was one of a handful of humans in a building full of vampires. I had more to worry about than he did. However, I did have some compassion, and relaxed my stance as I gestured to the door.
“If you guys are antsy being cooped up in here, you don’t have to hang around on my account.”
Devon frowned severely at me. “We all have things to do. We were just trying to decide who should stay here with you. At least one of us is going to be at your side at all times until the bond is gone.”
I rolled my eyes and settled down on the couch next to Chaz. All he did was give me a quick hug before standing up. Knits between my brows deepened as he gestured to Tiny and Devon, sounding defensive even though I hadn’t tried to argue.
“When one of them can’t be here, I’ll send someone from the pack.”
Only when one of “them” couldn’t be with me?
“What about you? Aren’t you going to be around, too?”
He stiffened, barely noticeable. If I hadn’t been watching him so closely, I would have missed it. “No. Just call me when you’re back home, and I’ll come over.”
“What? Why?”
“I can’t.” He looked away from me, not meeting my eyes. “Don’t ask me to stay here and watch you stare at Royce like he’s the love of your life. You have no idea how much it hurts to see that, knowing you’ve never looked at me that way.”
He glanced up at me, blue eyes meeting mine before flashing away. Not so quickly that I couldn’t see the pain reflected there. He must have seen how much I was struggling while we were eating. How I’d been watching Royce so closely despite all my better intentions.
“I’ll be there when you need me, but don’t ask me to stay around for this.”
That stunned me. The other guys had gone terribly still and quiet, trying not to be noticed. My voice was strange to my own ears, strangled sounding.
“Are you breaking up with me?”
He glanced at me again quickly, too quickly, then looked away.
“No. No, I’m not doing that. I love you, but I just can’t stay here right now. It hurts too much for me to stand around and watch you watch him.” Those crystalline irises were hidden behind fallen lids, a pained expression crossing his features as he clenched his hands into tight fists at his side. By the time he met my eyes, he’d schooled his features into a passably blank expression. I knew enough now to realize he was hurt.
“Good-bye, Shia.”
I could only watch, hot tears trickling down my cheeks while Chaz silently turned on his heel and walked out of the room.
Chapter 37
The next few days were a dull, gray haze in my mind. I felt like the biggest shit in history for not having noticed how much my infatuation with Royce was hurting Chaz, for not hiding it better.
Chaz had been good as his word. Tiny and Devon left the same night, right after one of Chaz’s wolves showed up to take their place to keep an eye on me. My “guards” came in shifts, sticking around for a few hours until being relieved by the next Sunstriker. Not one of them was happy with the duty, but they weren’t content to leave me alone with vampires for any length of time either.
Royce didn’t seem to mind having me tailing him when he worked at one of his offices. (God, how many offices does a guy need?) He left me to my own devices for the most part while he concentrated on whatever he was doing.
There were a few times he went somewhere without me and my watchdogs in tow. Usually that meant leaving me with Mouse, who tried to keep me busy and cheer me up. It was a bit of a silly thing for a vamp to be doing, and I probably didn’t take enough notice save for when she and/or the Weres had to forcibly keep me from answering Max’s call. He made attempts to draw me to him at random intervals, hoping to catch Royce or his people off guard.
It creeped me out when it happened, but also gave me a new appreciation for everything Royce and the Sunstrikers were doing.
When I was with Royce, Max’s call had no effect on me. The dull ache of Chaz being gone was alleviated and replaced by a temporary haze of adoration and euphoria by Royce’s presence, but it didn’t take long for me to crash back into a funk. By the third day, even being close to the vampire wasn’t always doing the trick to lift my spirits. Some part of me was recognizing how artificial that momentary joy was. The only solace I had was in knowing I could call Chaz once I was home and could do something to make it up to him. Somehow.
Arnold got the apology he wanted from the pissy detective. He and Sara showed up late on the same night Chaz and the others left. Arnold told me regretfully there was nothing to be done except let the bond and the desire for blood run their course. Sara had been pretty white-faced while Arnold explained to her exactly what Royce and Max’s blood had done to me. I think my expression must have mirrored hers, because he gave us both some insight and details neither vampire had made me privy to.
Even through my haze of adoration for Royce, I knew I needed to get the hell out of Dodge the minute the stuff was out of my system. I made Sara promise to stay as far away from me as possible until the blood worked its course. She blessedly didn’t argue, though that in and of itself was frightening.
It took me a couple days to recall Mouse’s offer to help break Max’s hold on me. When I asked her about it, she explained to me that she would have done exactly as Royce had–bound me to her, kept me close, and waited for it to wear off. She may or may not have let me go once the bond wore off, depending on whether I showed signs of being too dependent on her to handle the separation.
My ability to trust a vampire’s statement at face value, already low, has since plummeted to new depths of paranoia and distrust.
I remained down and bitter right up to the twelfth day following the battle. That was when the withdrawal pangs hit. The pain dragged me out of my funk and had me wishing, just for a little while, that somebody would kill me already and get it over with.
My insides felt like they were on fire. My stomach cramped pain
fully and I desperately craved something to drink no matter how much coffee or water or soda I consumed. Royce was there, but did nothing other than hold me while I alternated between shivers so hard my teeth rattled, and flashes of fever so hot I wondered why there wasn’t steam coming off me in scalding waves.
My head ached abominably. Though I begged and pleaded and cried for him to give me a taste, only a few drops of blood, just enough to make the pain stop, Royce never said a thing. When it got so bad I tore at my throat to reach that burning pain, dig it out, and make it end, he held my wrists and kept me pinned in his lap. I alternated between cursing him eternally for being such a heartless bastard, to pleading with any tiny shreds of humanity he might have to help make it stop.
That was not one of my better moments.
It was like that most of the night. Maybe an hour before dawn, the worst of it tapered off and I was able to finally, blessedly, sleep. When I woke up, I was on Mouse’s couch and none of the vampires were in sight. Dillon, the Were left behind to keep an eye on me, had his head tilted back against the headrest of the chair and was snoring away.
When I stood up, I almost fell right back on my ass. My legs felt weak, rubbery, and a ghost of the headache remained. Once I regained some of my balance, I rapidly crept away from Dillon, not looking back as I rushed into the hall. Panic made me forget everything–socks, shoes, trench coat. I didn’t have any money or a phone to call my friends for help, but I wasn’t thinking that clearly.
The guy seated by the table in the foyer dropped the paperback he was reading, standing up and making a grab for me. He shouted something, probably to stop, but I ignored it. Ducking around him, I rushed out the front door. Summoning every last ounce of strength I had, I escaped into the cheerful autumn sunlight, welcoming the cold wind on my skin. It helped clear my head as I put as much distance between myself and the vampire den as possible.
God, oh God, what had I done?
I don’t know why I felt so much panic. Why I was blind and uncaring as to where I was going. Why I needed to get as far away from this place as fast as my legs would carry me. After all, if Royce or any of his people had meant to hurt or use me, they’d had plenty of chances these last few days while I was so star-struck and enamored, I couldn’t see straight. Even in my blind hysteria, I knew I wasn’t running because of the Others. It wasn’t Royce or Dillon or Mouse who frightened me.
