“I’m fine,” I told her, just as quietly. We could both hear the lie in my voice.
“Rose, what’s going on?” asked Branna, when I finally set the tray on the table. She took my shoulders in her hands and held me steady, staring down and into my eyes, her brow furrowed. “Is it Melody?”
“Yes, it’s Melody…” I didn’t know exactly what to tell her. Her kind, gentle gaze and her concern were making my stomach knot and all of the tears I’d been choking down were now threatening to spill. “You were really wonderful to me, Bran,” I told her, then, gazing up at her and—stepping forward—embracing her tightly.
The vampire froze under my show of affection, and I stepped back, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m sorry,” I managed, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. I drew in a deep breath. “I’m going to miss you,” I told her then, my voice small.
Her eyes grew wider. “What are you talking about? You’re leaving?”
I shook my head. “Didn’t you hear? I thought everyone would have heard by now,” I added a little bitterly. I spread my hands. “Melody fired me. I’m going to try to talk to Kane about it, beg my case…I don’t really want to leave the Sullivan Hotel. Even after…everything.” I waved my hand in the direction of the fireplace, of Melody and Kane who I couldn’t see, but I knew were there, Melody’s arms possessively around Kane. Sometimes, the way that Melody clung to Kane felt like they were out at sea, and Melody was determined to pull Kane under the water forever.
Branna’s wide, brown eyes changed, then. I’d never seen her gaze harden, but it did now as she straightened, as her jaw hardened, too. She softened a little as she looked down at me. “Don’t worry,” she said gently, reaching out and squeezing my hand with her own cold fingers. “It’s going to be fixed,” she promised, her voice soothing.
She turned and quickly disappeared in the crowd.
But I didn’t want Branna to fight my battles for me, as sweet as that was. I began to stride after her, but I wasn’t exactly looking where I was going, in the dark room, and my thigh connected with the arm of a sofa.
And then I stopped in my tracks.
There was Tommie. She’d changed her clothes, was still wearing dress pants, but now there was a suit jacket over her white dress shirt, and a different tie. The fedora was pulled down low over her face, and she was chatting up a blonde vampire who was so pretty that I couldn’t believe she was real. The blonde’s hair, formed in scalloped waves down her back, practically glowed, and her dress looked like it’d been sewn onto her body, a soft, shiny black satin that hugged her tightly, delivering the perfect hourglass shape, like she was an ultra curvy silhouette of the perfect woman. I couldn’t exactly tell if the dress’s color was black or a very dark shade of purple—not that the color actually mattered. Her red lips were close to Tommie’s cheek as she whispered something into her ear, making Tommie chuckle softly.
Tommie’s hand was on the vampire’s thigh, her fingers resting lightly under the woman’s knee-length skirt.
Tommie glanced up, and to her credit, she paled upon seeing me. She leaned back on the couch, slowly removing her hand from the vampire’s leg.
“Rose? What are you doing here?” she asked mildly.
“Helping Gwen,” I managed, clearing my throat. I gestured back toward the table at the room’s entrance with a grimace and tried to sound sincere—but it came out a little sarcastically: “Would you like a drink?” The blonde vampire’s eyebrows were raised, and she wasn’t looking at me but smirking and glancing sidelong at Tommie.
“No, thank you,” said Tommie softly. Then she was standing, tugging at her suit jacket’s lapels as she cleared her throat.
I didn’t say anything. I turned on my heel, my cheeks burning, to continue along the wall to follow Bran.
“Rose, wait,” said Tommie tiredly, and then she was right behind me, her sure fingers tight around my elbow again. But it was the same hand that had been resting against that woman’s thigh, and I shrugged out of her grasp, stepping sideways.
“I’m sorry. I have work to do,” I said woodenly, trying to glimpse Branna in the crowd—but she’d completely disappeared from view.
I wasn’t really certain what to feel. I felt a little ill from the night’s events, to be honest. Kane. Then Melody. And now this.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew that Tommie hadn’t promised me anything with that kiss. It was, after all, just a kiss.
But I guess I’d been hoping… Well, I don’t really know what I’d been hoping for. After all, this was just who Tommie was. I shouldn’t have expected anything else. I don’t know why I did.
“Can’t you talk for a moment?” sighed Tommie in exasperation. “Look—”
“I have to help Gwen,” I told Tommie crisply. It was, after all, the only reason I was subjecting myself to this terrible night, to help out my best friend who deserved more than me standing around and talking to vampires. I needed to start serving the drinks again...
Then Tommie spread her hands and shrugged, taking a step back. She was swallowed up by the milling crowd, and I breathed out for a long moment before heading back to the room’s entrance. I moved quickly back to the door to the drawing room, but there were no more trays there with drinks, only empty ones. Gwen was halfway into the room with a full tray upon her hands, a wide smile on her face as she asked a small group of male vampires if they’d like a drink. They were all pointedly staring at her very bare neck, which caused me to shiver. But they wouldn’t do anything—not here.
And hell—maybe they’d tip her even better.
A few days into the Sullivan Hotel and I was getting cynical about vampires. I sighed for a long moment and picked up an empty tray.
Gwen said that she’d kept going back down to the kitchens, so maybe that’s where I could go to refill these trays. Several floors down. I sighed but stacked the trays together and put them under my arm, placing the glasses in a large plastic wash bin under the table that was starting to become full with dirty stemware. I glanced back once into the room, but the space was too crowded; I couldn’t see Bran.
I couldn’t see Kane.
And I could find Tommie. And that, I realized, was probably for the best.
Tommie could do what she wanted with herself. She owed no loyalty to me.
But the sight of her hand on the woman’s leg had still stung.
Just like the sight of Melody’s arm around Kane’s waist.
I couldn’t do anything about either of them. They were their own women.
But my heart still twisted inside of me as I pushed my way out of the drawing room and into the corridor. The lights were so bright—in comparison to those in the drawing room—that it took a moment for my gaze to adjust. I set off down the now empty corridor with the trays, heading toward the spiral staircase.
And I turned a corner.
And there was Tommie.
She was leaning against the wall nonchalantly, like a detective in a noir film, her hands deep in her pockets, her dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips. I’d found out that most of the Sullivan women smoked, but none nearly as much as Kane. Tommie hardly ever lit up but often had a pack of cigarettes on her “just in case.” A very long life had its advantages, I supposed.
I paused, biting my lip as Tommie pushed off from the wall, plucking up her cigarette and neatly threading it through her fedora’s hatband. She cocked her head at me with a frown.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” I said after a long moment. I’d meant to be funny, but the words came out half-choked, and I swallowed, holding the trays tighter to me.
“I’m sorry,” she said gruffly, then, forming the words slowly, as if she wasn’t used to uttering them. “I thought you were leaving the hotel. It was…upsetting to me. That woman—she doesn’t mean anything. I’m really sorry, Rose.”
I was astonished.
Again, this inscrutable, sarcastic woman was baring her heart to me, casting h
er vulnerability at my feet.
She didn’t have to apologize.
But she did, anyway.
“It’s none of my business what you do—you don’t owe me anything,” I told her, but the words were gentle, and I felt my shoulders subtly relax.
Tommie stepped forward, her bright green gaze burning into my eyes. “Rose,” she said, and the word was sad and small…desperate. “I want it to be your business,” she said softly.
And then, just like that, she was kissing me again.
She’d threaded her fingers into the hair at the base of my neck, pulled back loosely with the ponytail. It felt so good, her cool fingertips against my scalp, the length of her hard body pressed against mine. It felt so good, how she cradled my face with her palms, first gently, and then her hands were moving down, over my bare shoulders, making me shiver, before clasping my waist tightly. Her mouth against me tasted of nicotine and scotch; her lips were warm and soft and dangerous and desperate as she kissed me hard, holding me hard.
I pressed against her, too. I’d been desperately jealous of that blonde woman, of the casual way Tommie’s fingers had worked under the hem of her skirt. They’d just rested against that woman’s knee, it was true, but I hadn’t wanted Tommie to touch her.
I’d wanted Tommie to touch me.
I realized, then, as Tommie’s mouth devoured mine, as her lips began to make a hot, wet trail to the lobe of my ear, down my neck, as I shivered against her, that I wanted this very much.
Everything else faded away when Tommie touched me, when she kissed me. There was no outside world. There was no Kane, who made my heart ache, no Melody, who made me so very angry. No injustice. No loss. There was nothing but the two of us together, anchored to one another with mouths and hands, bodies pressed against one another like we were all that held the other up.
Tommie made me forget my pain, made me forget all of the things I’d wanted so much that I could never have now.
Tommie made me forget Kane.
Tommie’s mouth was on mine again, and my arms were wrapped around her neck, the trays against her back as I tried to hold onto them with only my fingers, as Tommie’s hands still held my hips tightly, the fluff of my skirts flattened between us.
I hardly noticed the cool click of shoes sounding out hollowly in the corridor behind me, from the direction of the drawing room. But when Tommie glanced up, her eyes dark with desire, a savage anger passed over her face.
And then I turned and went cold—body and soul.
It was Kane.
She strode toward us slowly, with measured steps, one hand gracefully holding a cigarette that she took an occasional pull from. Out in the better light of the corridor, it was easy to appreciate her outfit, with the red shirt and the plunging neckline and the high-collared jacket. Her bright blue eyes were narrowed, too, as she took in the scene before her.
She flicked the ash off the end of her cigarette, which dangled from the tips of her fingers as she sighed out for a long moment, clearing her throat.
“Rose, Tommie,” she said, her low, gravelly voice sending a shiver down my spine. Tommie frowned, tightening her hands at my hips.
Maybe I was reading too much into it, but Tommie seemed to be conveying, with her forward posture, with the way that she’d widened her stance on the floor, her feet now hip-width apart as she leaned towards Kane with a hard frown, that she was saying, very clearly, “Mine.”
I glanced from Tommie to Kane, feeling my heart break into two very sharp pieces. Kane took another pull from her cigarette as she gazed into my eyes. Hers were hard slits, but as I gazed deeper, I saw that hardness give away to pain as she shook her head, dropping the cigarette and stomping down on it slowly with the toe of her shoe.
It made a light scratching sound against the marble, and then there was only the distant hum of murmuring voices and laughter.
The corridor itself was as silent as the grave.
“I’m sorry for whatever happened earlier. With Melody,” said Kane, her voice so low, it was almost a growl. “I want you to know that you don’t have to leave the Sullivan Hotel, Rose. Not unless you choose to. Your position here is safe for however long you want it.” It sounded so official as she squared her shoulders, as she lifted her head, not looking directly at us as she turned a little, putting her hands into her pockets, glancing sidelong at me with deep blue eyes that pinned me to the spot. “It seems,” she murmured softly, “that there are others who want you here as much as I do.”
“More, Kane,” said Tommie, her teeth gritting together as her fingers tightened so strongly on my hips they were almost painful. I breathed out as Tommie’s eyes darkened. “Much more than you do.”
Kane exhaled. She stood very still for such a long moment, I could actually feel my heart aching within me.
She turned, then, her face in profile carefully controlled, carefully neutral, and she walked away slowly, the corridor shadowing her long, lank form until she’d reached the drawing room again, pulling the great door open and closing it quietly behind her.
Tommie’s mouth found my neck, and she brushed her cold lips against my skin there as my heart thundered in me, as I realized what exactly had just transpired.
Some things had changed irrevocably:
I could stay.
Tommie wanted me.
And Kane did not.
-- Eternal Heartbreak --
I woke up in a bed I didn’t recognize, an arm wrapped loosely around my waist, and a body pressed tightly to my back.
This, normally, wouldn’t be a bad way for most people to wake up. But as my heart rate accelerated, as I breathed out and in, my pulse quickening through my body, I felt a sense of dread come over me.
I didn’t remember falling asleep.
I certainly didn’t remember falling asleep next to someone. I glanced up at the ceiling, cast a cursory glance around the room.
I was in someone else’s bed and someone else’s room.
Yes, I knew I’d had a bit to drink last night. I remembered that much, at least. But I couldn’t remember much else yet, as the waves of hangover started to wash over me with slow but insistent chills. I stared down at what I could see of the arm wrapped tightly around my waist. The soft, flowing curve of her skin was a welcome, lovely sight…but I didn’t recognize that arm. Her limb was cold against my stomach—I was wearing a shirt, but it had ridden up slightly in sleep, which meant her skin pressed against mine. I shivered a little as I took a deep breath, realizing how cold the body was against my back. She was curved against me tightly, spooning me like this was the most natural thing in the world. Not the most unexpected.
A voice made a small murmur in her sleep, the tone a low, pleasant growl, and there was finally some spark of recognition. I took a deep breath.
I recognized that voice. I remembered.
I was in bed with Tommie.
I rolled over a little onto my side and turned to look at her over my shoulder. Tommie Sullivan was, thankfully, still fast asleep as my head spun and I tried, desperately, to make sense of what might have happened to me last night. Tommie was wearing a white tank top that showed off her sculpted, muscular shoulders, drawing my eyes down her lithe, long frame. I bit my lip as I breathed out softly, taking in the closeness of her, the sharp, chill scent of her skin and the lingering sweet smoke of the cigars she liked. My eyes traveled her length, even as my mind tried to grapple with why I was here. I tried, desperately, to remember.
In sleep, Tommie didn’t look nearly as hard as she was when awake, with her sarcastic, sideways smile, and her eyes narrowed as she delivered scathing one-liners. Here, asleep, her face was softer, her long lashes resting gently against her cold, pale cheekbones. Those lashes fluttered just then, as if she was having a dream. Her soft lips were parted, her breath coming in a low, easy rhythm, breath that carried that sweet, lingering tobacco.
My blood was starting to pound even quicker through me. Frankly, Tommie looked gorgeous lying there.
Gorgeous and…disheveled. Her short, shiny, raven-black hair lay tousled around her face. Maybe she tossed and turned a lot during the night.
Or maybe we’d slept together?
Blood rushed to my cheeks as I considered that possibility. God, I honestly couldn’t remember, and that was crazy. Why the hell couldn’t I remember if I’d slept with this gorgeous creature? Okay. I took a deep breath, wracked my brains while my pulse roared through me and I tried desperately to remember absolutely everything I could about the previous evening.
There had been the cocktail party last night—complete with me wearing that ridiculous maid outfit that Tommie had commissioned for the servers to wear. The poufy, frilly, too-short-for-anyone dress was now hanging off the edge of the foot bedpost. I plucked at the thin fabric covering my chest. I must have been wearing one of Tommie’s tank tops, because it certainly wasn’t mine. I tugged it down a little over my panties as I stared over my shoulder at Tommie again with a small grimace. I was, of course, not wearing pajama bottoms. Just panties. But I was still wearing panties… Think, Rose!
I remembered Kane telling me I should stay at the Sullivan Hotel.
With cold dread, I remembered Kane’s indifference as she’d turned away from me. Of her piercing blues eyes that pinned me to the spot when she found me and Tommie together, Tommie’s arms wrapping around me as she leaned closer, as our mouths met. Kane had found Tommie and me locked in an embrace…and kissing.
I sighed and ran a hand through my long, tangled red hair as I pieced the previous night together, dread beginning to grow in me. There was no specific reason for that dread. After all, I could stay at the Sullivan Hotel now, Melody be damned. She couldn’t tell me to leave because Kane had overruled her, and Kane—as owner of the Sullivan Hotel—certainly had the last word. So this meant at least—for the time being—my job was secured.
But the dread grew in me as I remembered Kane’s grave face in profile, turning away from Tommie and me, Tommie who was possessively gripping my hips with her long, cold fingers, her mouth at my neck.
Trusting Eternity (The Sullivan Vampires, Volume 2 Page 6
