by Jess Haines
I would have plied him with more questions, but a more severe bout of coughing wracked my body. He helped ease me to the tiled floor as I bent double, a pulsing pain building in my stomach and sinuses. The cramping wasn’t so bad, but the abrupt onset of the sinus headache made my head feel like it would split in two.
The water washed away the secretions of blood and whatever the hell the black stuff was. When Royce realized I was clutching at my head because of the pain there, he carefully moved my fingers and gently stroked over the parts where the pressure was the worst. He could probably see the black stuff under my skin, because he knew exactly where to rub. It helped, because the choking wave of crud that flooded out of my nose and mouth a minute later made the headache all but disappear. Though I was still coughing, breathing came much easier, and the stinging in my eyes, nose, ears, and throat was fading far faster than it had the night before.
The vampire gathered my trembling hands in his and pulled me to him, using the cloth I’d dropped to carefully wipe the stuff from around my eyes and mouth. Blinking a few times, then squinting at him through my lashes, I took in the angry knot between his brows and the way his jaw muscles had tensed. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, but I could still tell his thoughts were racing by the determined way he stared at me.
I said his name, the sound mangled by the lingering crud lining my esophagus. Then cleared my throat, trying again. “What’s happening to me?”
“You,” he said, voice thick with what sounded like regret, “are no longer entirely human. Nor are you quite Other. This is some kind of transition. I cannot say how long this will last, or what the end result will be.”
Tears—real ones this time—trickled down my cheeks, mixing with the condensation from the shower.
“I would not have asked you to become permanently bound to me until you had more time to adjust, but it is possible if you take more of my blood that it will keep you from succumbing to whatever this sickness is. I cannot promise it will work, but it may help.”
Swiping my hand under my nose, I closed my eyes and bowed my head. I’d already known that I’d chosen a hard road, but I hadn’t expected my descent into becoming less than human would include permanent servitude to the vampire. Or, at least, that it would come this soon.
While I would remain attracted to him for the rest of my life, no matter what I’d felt about him before, and while he could call me to his side or influence me in other ways if we were in close proximity, agreeing to being permanently bound was a whole new ball game. I wasn’t ready to take a leap off the edge of that cliff.
“I can’t, Royce. Not now. Not this soon.”
He didn’t say anything else, just held me, the two of us silent and unmoving as the water sluiced over us and washed the last remnants of the black liquid off our skin.
Chapter 3
Later, once I stopped leaking the black crap and the two of us had cleaned up—without the fun and games I’d been planning on, unfortunately—Royce gave me some clothing that he must have sent someone out to get for me. The sweater and designer jeans still had tags on them. I wasn’t about to ask how he knew my bra or underwear size, but the underthings that came with the new clothes were far more silky and revealing than I was used to, and a shade of green that was a bit more daring than I would have chosen on my own. It looked better than I was expecting, but neither Royce nor I were interested in doing anything about that after the scene in the shower.
He brought me downstairs with him. Some of the other inhabitants of the building were waiting for us, watching with eyes that glittered like red gemstones in the dark as we passed. The atmosphere was a hell of a lot more sinister in here sans the night vision and superhuman strength granted by the belt. Royce looked back at me as a shiver crept down my spine when Wes fell into step behind us.
After that, Royce took my hand. It was creepy how he’d known something was wrong without even looking at me. The cool press of his fingers curled around mine was comforting, but didn’t make me any less afraid of the crimson embers burning in the depths of Wes’s eyes when I glanced at him over my shoulder.
No doubt the dread pirate vampire was still pissed at me for the cheap shots I got in during our fight last night.
Royce led me to Mouse’s apartment. The door was open, and I did my best not to stare at all of the swords and daggers and other sharp, pointy objects the house guard kept in her living room.
“Analie. You remember Ms. Waynest, do you not?”
There was a young girl with mousy brown hair in the kitchen, furiously stirring something in a bowl. She used a flour-covered arm to move some stray strands of hair out of her eyes and gave us a sunny grin. “Sure. Hi, Shia.”
I lifted a hand and gave her a halfhearted wave, wondering what all this was about. Analie was one of the three werewolves who were currently “guests” in Royce’s home. I didn’t know the specifics of how Analie had come to be the vampire’s ward, but I knew it wasn’t something she’d been happy about. The other two—Ashi and Christoph—had done something stupid and tried attacking the vampire to save her from his clutches. Since their actions hadn’t been sanctioned by their alpha, they had been magically neutered by some collars that suppressed their ability to shift and gifted to Royce’s household. When I was stuck recovering from the blood bond to Royce, I had met the three of them in passing, but I wasn’t supposed to spend much time around any of them.
Royce ushered me before him, settling his hands lightly at my waist. It struck me as a strangely possessive move, but I wasn’t about to complain. “I have some errands to attend to. Give her a sample of your new skills. Perhaps you two can keep each other entertained until I return.”
That made me stiffen. “You’re leaving?”
He leaned in to kiss my cheek. Analie, blushing, nodded and turned away from us.
“You’re staying here,” he said, cool lips lingering against my cheek. “I won’t be long.”
With that, his grip tightened in what I assume was supposed to be a reassuring squeeze, and then he pulled away.
Dismissed so easily. It served as a reminder of what I was now. Something I wouldn’t ever be able to forget. Feeling a little sick, I sat in the chair Wes pulled out for me, not surprised when he settled down across from me. Royce nodded to Wes and left without another word.
Analie put the bowl down and shook her spoon at Wes. “Stop glaring at her.” It wasn’t until she said anything that I realized Wes had been giving me the evil eye. Which, when it’s coming from a very old vampire, is pretty disconcerting. “If you’re going to hang out in my kitchen, behave yourself.”
Wes continued glaring at me a moment longer, then eased back in his seat, blinking the crimson glow out of his eyes. The crystalline blue that took its place as his pupils contracted and darkened was as chill as the red was hot, the sleek lines of his carefully trimmed goatee bristling as the muscles in his jaw tightened.
“I’ll behave if she does.”
“I don’t have the belt,” I said, suddenly tired beyond measure. “I’m no threat anymore. Not to you.”
“No? You still stink of desperation and sickness under the sex. Did you think no one would notice?”
Analie’s spoon jangled as she dropped it on the counter, her gasp lost in the sound of my indignant sputtering. I rose, the chair clattering to the floor. Before I could do anything more, Wes was in front of me—I hadn’t seen him move—and his hand had closed around my wrist, preventing me from running off or falling as I jerked away from him. It wasn’t until I felt warmth trickle down my arm that I realized he’d cut me, too.
“Look at it. You’re filled with corruption. Tell me that isn’t a threat.”
It didn’t exactly hurt—the cut he must have made with a fang or a nail when he grabbed me wasn’t deep—but he was right. I didn’t bleed red—I bled black.
“What’s wrong?”
Wes and I both tore our gazes off of the dark trickle at my wrist to look at Analie. She didn
’t look afraid or upset, as I had expected. Just curious.
When Wes didn’t answer the question, I realized he was waiting for me to tell her. Like I had any answers to give.
“I wish I knew,” I said, pulling experimentally to see if Wes would let me go. His fingers tightened reflexively, then released me. “Royce didn’t know. He said it has something to do with being bound by . . . by having vampire blood in me and the infection from a werewolf at the same time.”
Now didn’t seem like the right time to discuss how Royce had bitten me while we were doing the horizontal tango. I didn’t doubt now that he must have known something was wrong, though I wondered as to his motivation behind remaining quiet about the illness he must have tasted.
As for Analie, the look she gave me was hard to decipher. She put the bowl down, absently licked some batter off of her thumb, and came closer. I didn’t resist when she took my wrist, sniffing gingerly at the blood. Her nose wrinkled, and she quickly backed away.
“I doubt it will kill you, but yeah, he’s right. That blood stinks of infection something fierce.”
Bowing my head and pressing my fingertips to my temples, I did my very best not to growl something uncomplimentary at them both.
“Just stay there, keep quiet, and I’m sure we’ll all get through this evening unscathed.”
I put my hands down and gave Wes the most baleful look I could muster. He stared back, clearly unimpressed.
“Well,” Analie said, her voice full of false gaiety, “you two can stay and keep me company. I don’t mind. It’s better talking to you guys than listening to Christoph and Ashi complaining about their collars again.”
So Wes and I stayed at the table, listening with half an ear as Analie chattered about her cooking lessons with someone named Jacques. She occasionally pulled out a dish, utensil, or a spice and held it up for us to see as she made a point, and we nodded along, making obliging sounds at the right times, though I honestly have no recollection of most of the stuff she told us. My mind was too busy considering what might be wrong with me (aside from an obvious and complete inability to make good decisions) and what the rest of the night might hold in store for me once Royce returned.
After a while, I came out of my introspection long enough to notice that Wes kept glancing at his phone, and was occasionally typing something on it. E-mailing or texting.
He shrugged at my questioning look and put the phone on the table. “Alec says he’s had a change of plans and will take a little longer than expected. He’ll be back as soon as he can.” At my dispirited nod, he continued. “Don’t look so glum. He’s bringing your friend back with him.”
That got my attention.
“Sara? He’s picking her up?”
“Yes. So no running off while the master is out, eh?”
That wasn’t a moniker I wanted to associate with Royce anywhere other than in my head, but the thought of seeing Sara again had me too happy to be upset about it. I grinned and leaned across the table. Wes jerked back from my touch, but I yanked him into an awkward, sideways hug anyway.
Analie, smiling, gave my shoulder a pat. “How about we make some cookies for them while we wait? Christoph and Ashi wanted more of these things Jacques showed me how to make. They’re these cinnamon cream-filled pastries. . . .”
I nodded and rose to join her at the counter, hoping the mundane activities would keep my mind off of all the craziness going on and busy enough until Sara arrived that the passing minutes wouldn’t feel like hours. Doing something so normal might also help distract me from little details. Things like my fellow chef’s being a werewolf, our babysitter’s being a vampire, that we were using a vampire’s kitchen to make goodies for other werewolves who occasionally doubled as walking Slurpees for the vamps, and—say, what did a vampire need a kitchen for, anyway?
Chapter 4
A few hours later, Royce returned, and he wasn’t alone. By then, I had tried somewhere in the range of forty to fifty different kinds of cookies and pastries Analie had made. Somehow she got it into her head that all my worries about what was going on internally could be smothered by sugar and chocolate.
And I’ll be damned if she wasn’t right.
By the time Royce entered the apartment with Mouse, Christoph, Ashi, Clarisse, and Sara on his heels, I was near ready to explode from sugar shock. I barely registered the others—seeing Sara for the first time in a month was enough to stun me into immobility. Which is quite something considering how much I had been vibrating from the sugar.
She looked fabulous. Not that she didn’t usually look like every man’s wet dream—damn her frizz-free blond hair, model-perfect body, blue eyes, and perfect skin—but whatever she’d been doing while I was gone really agreed with her. There was something different about her. A blush of health to her cheeks, a sparkle in her eyes, something not entirely tangible that I hadn’t seen before. Even though she was currently frowning and glaring at me from where she’d stopped in the kitchen doorway, giving me a look like I’d kicked her favorite poppy
The others (except for Mouse, of course) had been chattering away, but that died down when I stood and took a few halting steps toward Sara. That awkward silence probably would have lasted longer if I hadn’t thrown my arms around her and hugged her hard enough to force all the air out of her lungs.
She stayed stiff and unyielding at first, but soon gave in and hugged me back as best she could considering how her arms were pinned. Her voice was a bit thick as she wheezed out a few words.
“Don’t you ever run off like that again. You had me worried sick, you bitch.”
All the regret in the world wouldn’t bring back the lost time and resources or reverse the bad decisions I’d made over the last month. It had hurt to leave her behind when I had first abandoned her to Royce, but it hurt even more to know that she’d so easily forgiven me. I squeezed my own eyes shut so I wouldn’t start leaking tears all over her. In the last thirty days, I’d already cried enough to last a lifetime.
“Much as I like seeing two chicks all over each other, you’re blocking the path to the cookies. Mind shoving over?”
Sara and I both made sounds that were a combination snicker and snort, pulling away from each other to give Christoph room to get past us. Mouse gazed after him with a look of mixed dismay and amusement, her hands on her hips. That was when I noticed that all the newcomers, save for Sara and Royce, had returned in clubbing clothes. The leather-and-chains look was pretty distracting now that I’d noticed it, though I did my best to keep my eyes above Ashi’s and Christoph’s belts. Holy wow, could those two pull off leather pants. . . .
Analie was more than happy to stay busy preparing plates of sweets. First one for Christoph, and then one for Ashi, too, once he pulled away from Clarisse’s arm and slipped past Royce with a look of undisguised contempt.
Though I hadn’t dealt with them much on my prior visits, their behavior didn’t come as much of a surprise. The two were werewolves, though relatively harmless since the leather collars around their necks prevented them from shapeshifting. I had never asked for specifics—honestly, I hadn’t even known what they really were until Christoph had told me last night—but the two were almost always hanging out together even though they didn’t seem to like each other very much.
The pair wolfed down the cookies Analie gave them (ha—see what I did there?) as Clarisse and Mouse trailed inside, taking seats at the table with Wes, while Royce leaned against the granite breakfast bar. Seeing as almost all of the seats were taken, Sara and I joined Royce, who pulled out stools for both of us. Sara and I each took a seat, grinning and leaning against each other like a pair of happy drunks. Though she was startled by it, Sara didn’t protest when Royce positioned himself behind us, a hand on either of our shoulders.
Mouse’s hands moved, signing something. Wes, Christoph, and Royce all nodded when she was done.
Wes then glanced in my direction and, for the first time all evening, didn’t look like he wante
d to throttle me. Instead, his facial muscles tensed, and the rest of his body went into that unnatural stillness I associated with a vampire experiencing a pang of guilt or discomfort. “You might want to advise them about what’s been happening over the last twenty-four hours.”
“Oh, give it a rest, love. This is just cozy—no time for that sort of talk,” Clarisse said, her green eyes positively gleaming with mischief. “I don’t suppose you’d reconsider, Alec? Just for a few nights.”
“Reconsider what?” I asked.
“Something I’ll discuss with you two later. Privately. ”
Clarisse pouted but didn’t protest, though she was clearly disappointed that she’d be missing out on what I assumed was going to turn into some quality drama the minute Royce dropped whatever bomb he’d saved up for us. The others shrugged and kept quiet as Sara and I exchanged mystified, and slightly alarmed, looks.
The vampire’s grip tightened on my shoulder, as he was probably sensing just how much I was bothered by his decision to wait to tell us whatever the heck it was he was hiding this time. “Try not to worry. I’ve found a way to keep the situation contained. For the most part, everything is under control.”
Sara twisted around to face him, shrugging his hand off her shoulder. “Hiding things from us is not ‘keeping the situation contained.’ If whatever you’re up to involves us, we deserve to know what’s going on.”
Mouse and Clarisse nodded, and Wes shrank down in his seat, while the trio of werewolves watched us with the kind of rapt attention I would expect them to devote to a good movie or daytime TV. Royce was not amused, and his clipped tones reflected that.
“Yes, you do. However, I had thought you might appreciate some time to relax and catch up with each other before discussing business.”
