“Focus,” he warned. “It involves more than our race, so we need to look at all of them.”
“Aye, aye, boss.” She slipped her coat on and headed for the door.
“Tempest? Put on a shirt.”
“Wow.” Boots, pants, weapons, and a jacket that almost covered her bare breasts. And the vamp hadn’t even looked at her chest once. Two possibilities—he was gay or… “I'm losing my touch, aren’t I?”
“I would if I could, Tempest, but we work together. Perhaps after we’ve found the Prime, I should ask him to fire you,” he said as he walked out. “If he doesn’t kill me first.”
Five
Addison had been zoning out for at least fifteen minutes—not a smart thing to do the way her life currently was—but at least the silver ball of chain was unknotted now. After shoving the other stuff back in the closet, Addison peeked into her bedroom, gnawing on her lip and ready to run if the vamp moved.
“This is bad. Like, very, very bad.”
She rewrapped his wrists and ankles, putting the heavier chains right on top of the wimpy ones. Not bad. It actually might be enough, at least until he regained all his strength. She just had to kick him out before that happened.
And now for a drink.
The blood pooling at the bottom of the Styrofoam tray ran to one side when she took the steak out of the fridge. Probably not as fresh as the vamp was used to, definitely not as human as a pint from the grocers’ blood banks, and absolutely not as high-class as they got from blood ‘donors’ or their yearly stipend of free-range blood from unsuspecting humans. But it was the best she had. Hopefully, it would make him strong enough to leave without making him strong enough to overpower her on his way out.
After watching the first few drops fall onto the tray, she closed her eyes and squeezed the meat, wringing it to get all that yummy goodness her unwanted guest needed. So disgusting. And next to impossible—only about two more drops came out. She poured the juice she had into a small glass and headed into the bedroom.
She’d deliberately never been this close to a super before, but feeding him was going to have to involve touching him. His skin was porcelain-smooth and pale, as if he was airbrushed. His face was expressionless—straight nose, strong jaw, white bloodless lips. It didn’t mean he was any less dangerous, though. They didn’t kill with kisses.
This was such a bad idea. Sure, it could turn out like the story of the lion and the mouse: he could wake up feeling grateful enough not to murder her. But that was a fable meant to teach a moral lesson, and vamps didn’t give a shit about morality.
Actually, this wasn’t a bad idea at all—this was fucking insane. She set the glass down and took a wooden stake out of the nightstand. In her world, a stake was a far better weapon to keep on hand than a gun, unless you had silver bullets. The kind that worked were really hard to get and, supposedly, the punishment for their possession was severe. But who cared—whatever it was couldn’t be worse than death. Whether it was coming from the Council of Supers or from a rogue super out looking for a good time with a momentarily stupid seer. Like her.
She held the piece of wood with both shaking hands and placed it over the spot she wished it had hit the first time. Then she wouldn’t have to do this.
Damn whoever it was who missed. Damn them, even if they were already damned. This shouldn’t be her problem.
It was either the vamp or her, and he was practically dead anyway. Well, he was totally dead and practically dusted, so it made perfect sense to kill him. Then, why wasn’t she doing it? Because she’d been in a metaphorical fetal position ever since being drafted into the Heights.
Seers who want to live don’t kill supers. Seers who want to live keep their heads and stakes down. Seers who want to live behave…or they don’t get what they want.
It’s him or me. And she’d much prefer it was him. Just before she struck, the vamp’s nostrils flared as if he sensed what was about to happen. Her hands froze, the stake an inch away from his chest.
You’re so close! Just do it!
“Is this an attempt to build suspense?” he asked, his eyes still closed, his body still unmoving.
She jerked backwards and fell on her ass.
“You are not going to do it?” His voice was calm but gravelly. A rich, deep baritone that held no fear. “I cannot say I am disappointed.”
“I…I…” In the history of great comebacks, that had to rank in the top three. Idiot.
“If you are not going to stake me, what do you intend?”
“I…I…” Oh, come on, Addison. At least get out a verb. “I found you. All I want is for you to be well enough to leave.”
“Are you a healer?”
“No.”
“Then how do you propose to make me well?”
She glanced at the glass still resting on the nightstand. “I brought blood.”
“Excellent.” He still didn’t open his eyes, still didn’t speak above a whisper, almost like he was content to stay at her mercy.
Yeah, right. “You have to promise not to suck me dry.”
“Do I?” he said lazily.
“Yes.” Why wasn’t he reacting? Maybe because every super in a ten-mile radius could smell her fear.
“Very well. I promise.” That was too easy. Vamps weren’t bound by their promises like the fae were, but she wanted it anyway.
“I need you to mean it. Promise you won’t drink me to death if I try to help you.”
“I believe I already did. Although, I would imagine the silver you have strapped me down with inspires more confidence than words.”
She gnawed on her lip and considered how deep in this hole she already was. He was right—silver was stronger than a promise at this point. She picked up the glass and prepped herself to get closer. “I swear to God, if you do anything, I’ll—”
“What would you do? Stake me? Again? Let us be clear—swearing to God does nothing for my kind. Because He does nothing for my kind.” His eyes fluttered open, revealing the most beautiful blue irises she’d ever seen, even on a super. The kind of color that’s impossible to look away from: divine, unearthly, only found in dreams and mirages.
She blinked, knowing eyes like that could bind, hypnotize, make you believe whatever they wanted you to. “Close your eyes.”
“Are you always so demanding? Or just with those you have bound to your bed?” His gaze danced from her face to her body, his face still expressionless, his voice tinged with sarcasm and distaste.
“Close your eyes.”
“As you wish.” He lowered his lids slowly, letting her know that while she may think she was in control of the situation, she wasn’t. As if she needed the reminder.
“Can you lift your head?” She knelt down with the glass in one hand and the stake in the other.
The muscles in his neck tightened momentarily and a wrinkle appeared between his eyes, but nothing moved. Then, every line disappeared as if they’d never existed.
“There is your proof,” he said grumpily. “I believe having power over my appendages would be necessary for me to ‘suck you dry.’”
She blew out a breath. “I could’ve killed you, but I didn’t. Remember that.” She put the stake down on the nightstand and slipped her hand under his head to raise it slightly.
As she leaned forward, he inhaled deeply. “Your scent is…different.”
She glanced at the stake, trying to judge how fast she could get to it. “You’re probably smelling the garbage heap you were dumped in.”
“No, it is you, and it is…pleasing.” His voice was still groggy, almost as if he wasn’t fully awake. Or as if he knew how frail her bravery was and how easy it would be to knock it down. “Are you a witch?”
“I’m human.” Just more cursed than the average.
He scoffed. “That is impossible. Humans do not smell like you do.”
“I’m human. Hu-man.”
“Do you truly believe that if you say it enough times, it will become
true?”
“Just drink the yuck before I change my mind,” she grumbled.
As the steak juice poured into his mouth, she stared at his canines, waiting for them to elongate. She should’ve held the stake between her teeth. Not because it would’ve done anything to keep her safe, but at least it would make her look a little more badass.
After one swallow, he twitched and then gagged, his eyes flashing wide. She dropped his head and backed up.
“What is that?” he asked, coughing and spitting it out.
“It’s blood.”
His reaction was great—not that he was choking on the juice but that his body barely moved. Only his head came off the bed, turning to the side to glare at her. But she’d happily take the glare, because it meant that was all he could do. So, she was safe. Hopefully for long enough to convince him to walk away and forget she ever happened.
That was so enormously unlikely. I should’ve staked him.
“That is not blood,” he said, still trying to rid his mouth of the taste.
“It’s close.”
“Yet it is far from potable. It was cow, was it not? You tried to give me the myoglobin of a cow?”
“Maybe, although I’m not sure what myoglobin is.”
“Do you know nothing about my race?” He looked at her as if she’d missed something so obvious she should be ashamed of herself. “Because vampires were human, we can only ingest human blood.”
“They don’t exactly offer ‘How to Feed and Nurture Your Vamp’ classes to disposal techs, you know.”
“You are a disposal technician.”
“Yeah.” She waited for him to make a flippant comment, something derogatory about what she did for a living.
“Why are you not a diversion?”
Diversion: The official yet completely inaccurate name for a toy. Supers used prettier words, but the seer descriptions were always more honest—toy instead of diversion, the Heights instead of the Highworld. ‘Highworld,’ my ass. An entire movie and gaming franchise was built on the Underworld name. Because that’s what the supernatural world was—dark and hellish.
Seers weren’t ‘guided’ into the Heights—when you don’t have a choice, you’re ‘drafted.’ ‘Bag boy’ was a much clearer name for seers who delivered blood, either in bags or in necks, along with the occasional cadaver for rituals and ceremonies. ‘Grocers’ were in charge of population control—overseeing how many supers were created and monitoring the free-range kill each super was allowed in every human generation.
The supers were blind to the reality of their own world, and the facts would ruin the perfection they saw while looking down their noses. Nobody likes ugly things—especially not supers.
“You have the right qualities for a diversion,” he said.
“I have other qualities, too,” she said, her cheeks and chest heating as he took her all in. The truth was, she didn’t know why she hadn’t been put in a toy box. But she thanked the powers every day for whoever was in charge of job assignments the day her file went through.
“It is regrettable you were not trained in a procurement role.”
“Yeah, that’s just too bad. I’m so sorry I’m not more useful to you.”
“As am I,” he said. “If you truly wish me to heal, I must have blood I can utilize. For optimum utilization, a cow needs cow milk just as a human child needs human breast milk.”
“I’m not a cow,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest as his gaze fell there. Then she realized he wasn’t talking about milk, and he wasn’t looking at her breasts. Her hands moved to her neck.
“A vampire needs human blood to survive. Any other kind causes a reaction much the same as a human who is allergic to cow’s milk.”
“You mean you’re lactose intolerant?”
“Not what I meant, but if it helps to think of it in those terms…”
“So animal blood gives you a tummy ache?” she said, stifling a laugh that was half about her comment and half about the absurdity of this situation. So, you know, a terrified laugh.
“No.”
“Why can’t you just drink it and use it less than optimally?”
“Because it is vile,” he snapped. “Because, contrary to what you seem to think, I am not an animal, and there are a few things my magic cannot supply. I need human blood. Or seer blood.”
“Seers are human, but you’re not getting any of my blood.”
He gritted his teeth and looked away. “Then I suppose I will just have to wait until you kill me, or you will have to wait until I starve to death.” That would only take forever. Literally.
“I guess so.” She sat down, put her hands behind her head, and leaned back in the chair. “Good thing I don’t have anything better to do.”
About fifteen minutes later, Addison came to a decision, not knowing if it was a bad decision or a really bad one. It was the largest commitment she’d ever made, because there was no coming back from it. Since she worked at night and slept during the day, her drapes were lightproof, designed either for people on the night shift or vampires. Right about now, she truly regretted not getting the lacy kind and wearing a sleep mask, because what she was about to do was deliberate and would kill him. Those two things defined murder, didn’t they?
She wasn’t a murderer.
But he was. And if he got free, he wouldn’t hesitate. And he wouldn’t feel bad about it either. And he wouldn’t be standing around like an idiot, having a silent conversation with himself and trying to figure out what he should do.
She pulled the drapes open. When the sun came over the building and through the window, he wouldn’t be her problem anymore. It wouldn’t be pretty or fast because, while sunlight burned them, it took a really long time for them to dust. But it would get the job done, and it wouldn’t entirely be her fault. Mother Nature would have a larger hand in it than she did. And nobody could kill Mother Nature.
Afterwards, Addison would buy a new bed. Didn’t they take away the old one for free? They probably wouldn’t even notice a layer of ash in the shape of a man. Okay, they would. So she’d wrap his remains in a little care package for the human trash collector and be done with it. And him.
“You intend to have me meet the sun.”
She didn’t want to look at him. It seemed harder to set someone up for death if they watched you do it. “You could always leave first.”
“If I had the power to leave, I would also have the power to shut the curtains.”
“Why are you giving me more reasons to stake you?” she asked, spinning to face him. Damn it! She didn’t want to see him.
His eyes dared her, challenged her, and his jaw still jutted out. Still proud, or maybe it was stuck in that position from too much practice feeling superior. But she knew he was ashamed of his weakness, of being at the mercy of a lower being. How ironic—he was finally experiencing what seers felt like all the fucking time.
“You are so easily read, Seer. A higher being will know everything as soon as they are within ten feet of you. It is too bad your kind cannot shield your minds from us, is it not?” There wasn’t an ounce of pity or empathy in his tone, but there was a whole lot of arrogance and patronization.
“All higher beings?” If so, then it was a done deal. She couldn’t avoid them forever. Someday one of them would read her and find out what she’d done and she’d be killed in a really, really terrible way. Really, really slowly.
“The skill varies from being to being, but yes, we all can see into a human mind. They are quite weak…and easily breakable.”
Addison knew that. Just like she knew she was going to die. To keep her neighbor from getting wiped, she might as well have shoved a stake into her own heart. The only thing she could hope for now was that it would be fast and not too painful.
Every seer died twice. The first time, as a child, brought them into this hell. But no one came back the second time. In a way, the realization was freeing. After twenty years as a seer, six of those as an
official member of the Heights, she finally had nothing left to fear. It didn’t matter what she said or did—the inevitable was inevitable.
Six
Her expression defeated, the seer moved slowly as she shut the curtains. She couldn’t possibly be surprised by how weak the human mind was, or how strong his was. Rhyse had little experience with humans and seers—a master didn’t spend time with his servants or his food. But as surprising as it was, his wound still had not healed and he had nothing else to keep him occupied.
“Come to me, Seer.”
“No.”
This stubborn, ignorant disposal technician would have a very slow death. His power took more energy than speech did, but it was necessary. If only to see her obey. No one disobeyed him.
“Come to me,” he commanded with his mind and his tongue, though the latter was no longer important.
He watched her face change as she felt his demand, her body struggling against her mind. She held power, this one. All humans and most other beings would already be on their knees begging for permission to please him.
With a sigh, she came within striking distance. But he wouldn’t strike. Not yet. Not until she learned to obey without his power and understood the futility of her defiance. What should he command her to do next? Rid herself of the atrocious clothing she wore? Fall to her knees in gratitude he hadn’t killed her yet? Put her lips around his cock?
Perhaps too large a step. He would see her beg soon enough, but not because he compelled her. Her submission would come from her soul, not mind-play.
“Remove the silver bindings,” he commanded.
“No way in hell.”
He paused, unsure of what he’d just heard. “What did you say?”
“No. Fucking. Way.”
Evidently, his wound had affected him far more than he’d thought. He tried again, more forcefully this time. “Remove the bindings.”
“No.”
“You—” He pushed into her mind incrementally harder, knowing if he went too far, he would destroy her, turn her into a drooling imbecile, incapable of thought or action. And that would hardly be useful to him.
Unseen (The Heights, Vol. 1) Page 3
