by Temple West
I looked at him and he somehow knew what I meant. He pulled back the covers and we crawled in. I curled up next to him as close as I could get, and he wrapped me up in his arms. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, Adrian’s alarm was going off. I looked over blearily and saw that it was 10:50—and according to Julian’s note, Mariana and Dominic would be back in less than ten minutes.
Beside me, Adrian sat up to turn off the alarm. Despite the heaviness of our recent conversation, I smiled at him. I couldn’t help it—shirtless Adrian was such a nice view.
I could feel his gaze sweep over my face, down my shoulder, across my chest. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Adrian,” I warned. “If you keep staring at my breasts, we’re going to get into trouble.”
There was some sort of guttural grumble sound deep in his chest, and it immediately made me flush with goose bumps. He leaned toward me, eyes igniting into silver. As much as I wanted to kiss him, I really, really didn’t want his sister to walk in on us.
So I defense-tickled him.
He jerked away with a surprised laugh, arms crossed over his six-pack. “Did you just tickle me?”
I grinned at him. “Yes, I did.”
He tickled me back and I shrieked, trying to escape, but he grabbed me and rolled, pinning me beneath him.
Well, it was never a perfect plan.
He was propped up on his elbows, but other than that, we were flush together.
“I have coffee breath,” I warned.
“That’s nice,” he said, kissing the noninjured half of my jaw.
“My hair’s a mess.”
“Such a mess,” he agreed, twining his fingers in mine and stretching them slowly above my head.
And then a thought occurred to me. “Can Julian … feel, what we’re doing?”
Adrian stopped dead. “He can feel what you’re doing. Shit. Maybe he thinks you’re … y’know … entertaining yourself.”
I burst into laughter, then stopped. We looked at each other, both going red in the face, and I burst into laughter again. Then he sighed and kissed me anyway, mutual coffee breath and all, and nestled his face into my neck like a cat. “Caitlin,” he said, voice muffled in my hair a full minute later. “We’ll figure it out.”
My heart jumped in my chest, beating heavily. “Promise?”
He propped himself up to look at me. “I promise.”
I smiled, but it was a scared smile. He kissed my cheek, and my forehead, and my chin, and then my mouth. It could have turned into something more—I wanted it to turn into something more—but then he muttered, “Julian,” and pulled back.
He slid out of bed and walked to his dresser. I propped my chin on my hand to watch him, trying to keep the mood light even though my chest felt tight and heavy.
“Adrian?”
“Yeah?” he asked, looking for a pair of pants.
“I have the utmost admiration for your backside. It’s really nice.” He looked up at me, cocking an eyebrow, and I shrugged, smiling. “Just thought you should know.”
His jaw worked, fighting a smile. “Stop being cute, or I’m going to come back over there.”
He blushed, and I blushed, and then he threw a pillow at me and I laughed, wrapping his blanket around me and standing with a yawn. He was wrestling his way into a pair of pants, and I bit my lip to keep from smiling. We had a lot of shit to deal with, but he was here, and I was here, and it was something.
I got up and slipped into my room to get dressed. A few minutes later, Adrian knocked on my door. “Breakfast?”
I nodded and followed him into the hall. He paused a few doors down and knocked on Lucian’s door.
“Hey, bud, time to wake up! Breakfast!”
But there was no reply. Adrian frowned and knocked again. When there was no answer, he carefully opened the door, letting light spill into the room.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to tell that the bed was not only empty, it was still made; sheet tucked in, pillows in place.
I frowned. “Is he already downstairs with Julian?”
“I doubt it,” Adrian said, though part of him was considering it. “He always waits for me to wake him up.”
Not saying anything more, Adrian hurried to the stairs and descended. I followed as quickly as I could. When we reached the kitchen, Julian was eating Cap’n Crunch and playing Angry Birds on his phone.
“Is Lucian down here?” Adrian asked, coming to an abrupt halt.
“Nope,” Julian said, not bothering to look up from his phone.
Adrian went very still, then whirled and fast-walked back to the hall and up the stairs. I couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening. Adrian opened the door to my studio.
“Lucian?” he called.
No answer. He ran back out, opening the next door. “Frankie?”
No response.
I took one side of the hall and he took the other. Every room was empty. Every hair on my body stood on end.
“Shit!” Adrian yelled, slamming his fist against the door frame.
“He’s gotta be here somewhere,” I said, on the edge of panic.
Adrian gave me a look that chilled my skin. We headed downstairs and checked the second floor room by room, calling his name loudly. Julian finally wandered out of the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
Adrian threw Julian a dirty look. “Our brother is missing.”
Julian paled.
We ran down to the first floor, to the east wing with the pool. It, too, was empty and silent. We raced through the dining room, the kitchen, the offices, and finally into the library, calling out “Lucian!” Even Julian looked a little panicked.
There was no one there but us. Adrian dropped to his knees, looking like the wind had gotten knocked out of him.
Lucian was gone.
* * *
Mariana and Dominic got home a half hour later. Julian was having a conversation with someone in spitfire French, and Adrian was still in shock. He’d scoured the grounds, calling Lucian’s name, asking me to stay in the house as a precaution. Since Lucian was a vampire as well, Adrian couldn’t sense him—they were all blank spots to one another—“voids,” as Mariana had called it. The only way to find Lucian was to stumble across him, and that was becoming less likely by the hour. Mariana and Dominic had us recount the story over and over, picking apart details, analyzing the events—although we very carefully left out the bits and pieces we’d decided we didn’t want the Council to know.
In the end, they concluded that Tommie must have come back here to the house while Adrian and I had been in the clearing. They didn’t know how he’d gotten past the security measures—unless, of course, Lucian had simply opened the front door. He was the only one of the siblings that had anything close to affection for their father. It wouldn’t be beyond reason to think Lucian has simply chosen to go with him.
Julian stayed that night while Mariana and Dominic made an emergency trip back to D.C. for some sort of Council meeting, which meant Adrian and I had one more night together before life got complicated again. But the joy of that morning was gone, the playfulness, the something else was put indefinitely on hold.
Adrian and I were sitting on the edge of his bed. It was three in the morning, and he had been silent for a long time. Norah had competed earlier that day, but I had no idea how she’d placed. It didn’t seem that important right now.
Lucian was gone.
I felt numb. I felt like I’d felt everything it was possible to feel, the past few days, and now I was exhausted.
It was late, though, and we needed to sleep. I pushed Adrian down and pulled the covers over us. He stared at the ceiling blankly. I wrapped my arms around him, and pulled him close.
“My brother is gone,” he murmured.
I didn’t know what to say at first. Finally, I settled for, “We’ll get him back.”
“Little brother.”
“We’ll get him back,” I repeated.
Because we would.
He buried his face in my neck, wrapped his arms around me tightly. “I almost lost you.”
I kissed his cheek softly. “But you didn’t.”
“Don’t go.”
“I won’t.”
“We’ll get him back.”
“We’ll get him back.”
* * *
Sunday morning, Adrian, Julian, and I were working our way numbly through bowls of cereal when the backup arrived. They walked into the kitchen, assembling regally in a semicircle, and I had the weird, passing thought that they seemed like they’d be more comfortable in armor than the array of designer clothing they were currently dressed in.
“For those of you who don’t know,” Mariana began, addressing the newcomers, “these are my brothers Julian and Adrian. And this is Caitlin.”
Apparently they didn’t need an explanation of who I was, and why I was there. Three days ago, I would have been intimidated, but I’d now faced far worse than a bunch of well-dressed European vampires.
“This,” Mariana continued, pointing to three men, “is Javan, Vincent, and Farrar.” She turned to the two women. “This is Sabine and that’s Kalare.”
“You’re Caitlin?” Sabine said in a thick Parisian accent, looking me over with an expression that was borderline hostile. I’d just been introduced, so I didn’t really know how she could already have a problem with me, but making enemies of authoritative women seemed to be a specialty of mine.
“The one and only,” I replied tightly.
Javan looked sternly at Sabine before stepping forward, and though he didn’t look particularly older than any of the rest of them, he felt older. He nodded at me in greeting.
“We are the war council.”
* * *
I hadn’t checked my phone since before we’d passed out at three a.m., so I didn’t see the text from Rachel saying they’d decided to drive through the night and they’d be back by eleven Sunday morning, and could Trish please drop me off around noon. It was now two and I also hadn’t noticed the multiple missed calls and texts asking where I was. Apparently she’d driven over to Trish’s herself to pick me up, and I hadn’t been there. Suffice it to say, when I did finally pull up, on Adrian’s Harley no less, my aunt was livid.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Even in my emotional stupor, it caught my attention that Rachel had just sworn. I’d literally never heard a bad word out of her mouth before. She stalked up to the bike as I swung off, and glared at me.
“You can’t do this, Caitlin! You can’t just go off anywhere you want and not tell me! We’re your family, we are responsible for you, and you have to listen to us.”
She took a step forward and for a moment, I thought she was going to slap me. Instead, and to my great surprise, she hugged me so tight I could barely breathe. There was a moment of silence, and then she let me go.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Master—” Adrian began, but Rachel cut him off.
“You are in trouble, young man. This is the last straw. I am calling your aunt and uncle.”
Joe came out, finally, and I could see Norah looking on from the kitchen window.
“Mr. Master,” Adrian tried again, “please, let me expl—”
Joe shook his head. “Don’t push it, son.”
“Guys,” I interrupted. “Adrian’s brother is missing.”
There was a moment of silence.
“My family was out of town for the weekend while I stayed home with my little brother,” Adrian explained, carefully dancing his way through the truth. “Lucian’s got … special needs. I think he got confused, and wandered away from the house. I called Caitlin, because I didn’t know who else to call. She came over to help me look for him. I’m sorry for not asking your permission, I just—I wasn’t really thinking.”
Rachel looked stricken. It was Joe who finally spoke. “Do we need to call the police, or your family?”
Adrian shook his head. “Police have been called. My family’s back now. We searched the house and the property and even the surrounding woods. He’s gone.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call, Rachel,” I said, turning to my aunt. “It was an emergency.”
“No, it’s okay,” she said, looking oddly emotional. “Is there a search party? We can get our coats and boots and call some of the neighbors—”
“My family hired some investigators,” Adrian said, cutting her off. “But thank you.”
Rachel bit her lip, nodded, then pulled Adrian into a hug. He was surprised, but he let her hug him.
Adrian went home shortly after, but not before giving me a quick kiss—directly in front of Rachel and Joe. I guess that was his way of saying, to at least one set of authority figures, that things were going to be different now.
After he left, Rachel hugged me again. And for the first time since I’d moved in with them, I hugged her back. Maybe she hadn’t been there for me, once. But she was here now. And I needed my family. I needed them more than I needed to be angry.
I was saving all my anger for someone else.
I was going to get Lucian back. I was going to find a way for Adrian and me to be together. I was going to hurt Tommie, in whatever form he took, in whatever dimension he was hiding in.
And when all of this was over, I was going to take Lucian and Adrian and go to New York and do my internship and design beautiful things and somehow find a safe place for us all. Because I had something to live for again—not Adrian, not my career, but all of it: I had a future, I had a family.
And that meant I had hope.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Alexis
It’s pretty obvious that Velvet would not have been written without you. Not only did you come home from class every day asking to read the next chapter I’d managed to crank out, you were the only person able to coax me out of my hermit cave / bunk fortress to go outside and interact with the rest of the world. We went to the Twilight midnight premieres together, even when you moved three hours away, you gave me notes on Velvet five years after I first wrote it in our dorm room, and you are an incredible and dear friend.
Beta Readers
Kim Wilcox, Tony Sands, Greg Dember, Nicholas Limon, Audrey Ney, Kristen Rea, Alexa Riddle, Mel Case, Shelby Etcheson, Ashley Oczkewicz, Elizabeth Stoker, Jeffrey Holmes, Rosalie M. Town, Dan Marchant, and everyone else I guilted into reading Velvet. Your criticism, enthusiasm, and time were critical in getting Velvet to where it is today.
Mr. Bratt
I still can’t call you by your first name, even though it’s been six years since I was your student. Your classes were spectacular. Doing homework for you was a privilege (which sounds insincere and brown-nosey, but I’m completely serious). You treat your students like intelligent, thoughtful adults, which made such an incredible difference in my reception of my own education. In your classroom, I realized that my decisions were my own, and I had within me the power to think critically about the world, to observe it and decipher it and understand it, rather than accept it at face value. The way you presented literature to a bunch of fidgety teenagers was nothing short of remarkable. I blame you for my love of archetypes.
Dad
In addition to sneaking me food and gas money over much of the last five years, you also instilled in me a love of fantasy literature. Reading The Chronicles of Narnia every night before I fell asleep allowed for the story to percolate in my dreaming brain. You never minded when I wandered off on literal bunny trails when we went hiking and camping, when I borrowed your longbow for target practice, or when I appropriated your scrap supplies and tools to make failed Rube Goldberg projects. Whatever independent spirit I have, I learned from your love of wilderness, beauty, and elbow grease. You’re an incredible dad, and I love you more than I can properly express.
Deborah Halverson
When I was 19, I sent Velvet out to dozens of literary agents, and one of them passed me along to you. You took it upon yourself to give me 13 pages of notes on m
y (at that point) 150,000-word manuscript. All you asked for in return was that when I published my novel (which you knew I would), I pass it forward by advising another young author. I have no idea if you remember this encounter, but I do, and I wanted to let you know that I intend to fulfill my promise.
Lonnie & Jess
I commonly refer to you two as either my mentors or my second set of parents, and both are apt descriptions. Whether it was a novel, a screenplay, or a pilot, you never failed to be both excited and supportive of my project, and wholly convinced of my potential, often when I was in extreme doubt. You’ve invested so much time and love into my life, and have been a steadying hand in the years when I felt lost and alone. Thank you for remaining a constant source of wisdom even when I moved a thousand miles away.
Michael
If Lonnie and Jess are my second parents, you are my Obi-Wan Kenobi. For the past six years, any time a career decision came up, any time I wasn’t certain what to do or where to go creatively or professionally, you were the first person I consulted. You are one of the most intelligent people I have ever met, and I owe so much of my development as an artist and a writer to you. I could not have asked for a better mentor, and I am proud to call you my friend.
Mrs. Madison
I only had you as a teacher for seventh grade, but over a decade later, I still remember what you did for me. Besides being a generally fantastic educator—funny, intelligent, and just a little bit sarcastic—you unknowingly confirmed my decision to become a writer. We had to submit a short story for your class and I was in such a rush of excitement that I turned one in on ripped-out notebook paper, scrawled in my completely unintelligible handwriting. You enjoyed it so much, you gave it 21 out of 20 possible points. Getting extra credit from you, simply for telling a good story, was the moment I knew for certain what I was going to do with my life. So, y’know, thanks for the being the catalyst for that semi-pivotal moment.
Mom
As my English teacher in both junior high and high school, you held me to a higher standard than your other students because you believed, well before I did, that I was going to be an author. You gave me your life savings so I could go to college, you sat across the table from me during the edits for this book and pointed out comma splices and laughed out loud at lines you thought were funny, and you inspired me to try the path less taken by living your own life outside the boxes others might have been expected you to stay put in. You are an incredible, brilliant woman, and I am proud to call you my mother.
