by Chloe Adler
“Unless he has something in writing, that’s got to be illegal. I’m happy to take you to the lawyer you spoke to help insist on a full refund up front. Bob will be forced to return all the money your parents paid and you can use that money to move.”
I peek over at Vasily but he’s focusing on the road. “I appreciate that you’re trying to help me. I really do. And I’m not opposed to talking to the lawyer again but I need to do it without your assistance. And if he does agree to return the money, he’d return it to my parents, and the last thing I want is for them to find out about this mess.” I wait until he glances over. “I don’t expect you to understand how important it is for me to handle this on my own, but I hope you will respect it.”
“If I report him to Chief Sheldon, your parents won’t have to be told. Let’s see what the authorities have to say.”
“Please, Vasily.” As much as Bob is a terrible human being, he’s my new boss’s brother. I put my hand on Vasily’s arm, which is clutching the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. “I don’t want to shake things up. Plus my parents will be told, the lease is in their name. They’ll abandon their dreams again and come back here. I’ll be the one to blame.”
He looks over at me, his features softening.
“I wouldn’t be able to live with that.”
“All right. I will respect your wishes and leave it for now, but there are other ways I can help you, if you’ll let me.” His grip on the wheel loosens.
“What other ways?” I roll the window up partway, the breeze having turned frigid.
“I’ll speak to Cheryl, make sure you can keep the house.”
Given how well the talk with Bob went, that sounds like a really, really bad idea. “I appreciate it but you’re doing enough already, offering me a job. If the job works out, I’ll be able to keep the house, on my own terms, using money I’ve earned. I want to manage my housing situation by myself.” I finish rolling up the window and put my hands in my lap, doing my best not to worry them.
“I will honor your wishes.” He looks out the window and then back at me, wetting his lips. “I admire that you’re not looking for a handout. I admire your work ethics and your desire to maintain your independence. You’re strong, and that’s appealing.”
My hands fly up to smooth down my hair. “Are you flirting with me?”
“I’d be an idiot not to, but no, that wasn’t my intention.” He sits up straighter, a slow grin creeping across his chiseled features, the arch of his cheekbones softening. “I’m trying to charm you so I can ask you for a favor.”
I cock my head. “What favor could you possibly need or want from me?”
“I’m hoping you’ll let me drink from you.”
Instead of responding, I watch the ocean slide by out of the passenger window. He’s asked a valid question, but it’s one I don’t have the answer to. I took a job at the vectum; obviously feeding vamps is a requirement, and I told myself I was fine with it. And yet, I’m a bundle of nerves at the thought of actually doing it. Maybe I’m nervous because this would be my first time or maybe it’s because of Vasily himself. I really like the guy, but vampires are scary, especially after last night’s mess upstairs.
I’ve never been a Signum groupie. At Ichor, at least, we’d be surrounded by other people, but to have him drink from me elsewhere, possibly while alone with him . . .
My hands dampen at the thought. Plus I signed a non-something-or-other at Ichor. It wasn’t a nondisclosure, but I’m pretty sure it stated that if I was involved with a vampire there, I wasn’t allowed to see him or her privately. I pull my phone out to text Jules.
Hey bitch, are we allowed to engage private drinkfests?
The ping back is immediate. What the fuck are you talking about ho?
I’m in a car with Vasily going to his house.
No fuck, I’m jelly as hell. I won’t tell bitchboss. You going to earn a few extra bucks in the bedroom?
No! He offered me a job. I haven’t agreed to it yet or to the bite/drinking but I’m considering it. Am I being TSTL?
No way, his rep is great. Text me after he’s devirginized your neck.
I giggle and put my phone away.
Vasily shifts in his seat, peeking over at me. “When we get to the house, I’d like to show you around a little. If you need some water or anything to drink, please let me know. Before we get down to business, I want you to feel comfortable in my home.”
“Thank you.” I keep watching out the window instead of looking at him. God knows he’s pretty to look at, but the majestic scenery is pretty too—and a lot less intimidating.
The Edge is not a large town, only a few miles long, but it winds high into the hills, and it’s one of these routes that Vasily finally takes. As we ascend, the sea spreads out, vast and wide, bleeding over the horizon, the salt tang of the air muted. Surfers and seabirds in flight over the bright blue swells are mere dots now. But the trees grow denser as we climb, and the birds chirp like piccolos. I have to press my hands to my chest to keep from singing along.
As we round a turn, I finally figure out where we’re headed and gasp. “You live in the Ridge?” The deeply forested, deeply wealthy enclave overlooks the entire town and the ocean beyond. I’ve only heard of the place but never ventured near before. No one I know has ever been inside.
“For now.” He winds through an immaculately paved route lined with pine, birch and cypress trees growing impossibly thicker.
I pick my jaw up out of my lap. Long driveways lead off from the street, each one gated. The front lawns are manicured to perfection, with rows of perfectly coifed flowerbeds, stone statues, fountains and richly colored stone walkways.
He stops at an elaborate wrought-iron gate sporting a metal dragon intertwined with tendrils of plants and leaves, flips down his sun visor and presses a button on a remote control. The gate swings open with a clang.
His house isn’t visible from the driveway, which is lined with so many ferns and palms we might as well be back in the park. Instead of heading back down the hill, the driveway turns and we head farther up. I had no idea there were any houses this high. On the way, we even pass a stable and I turn to him excitedly.
“You have a horse?” I clasp my hands together.
“Horses, my dear. Do you ride?”
“It’s been a long time, but yes, I love riding. And working with horses.” I was an avid rider when I was a tween. I even helped at the stables in exchange for free riding lessons, which is how I know to do more than muck out stalls.
“I’ll take you.” His dark eyes shift like a cat’s. He seems more shifter than vampire, but even shifters don’t have animal eyes in their human form. Do they? Most of my friends are human, and I hardly know anything about the Signum. Growing up, my family and I kept to ourselves—the same way, I am told, that certain races do in big inner cities. Signum all seem to flock together, and humans do the same. It’s rare to find a human with Signum friends and vice versa. We just don’t have much in common. Aside from the Signum groupies or the vampire donors, humans try to stay out of the Signum’s way, since the last thing you want to do as a powerless human is to infuriate someone about a thousand times stronger than you in every way.
At the top of the circular drive, he parks beside a few other vehicles. I expected the house to be a mini castle, all turrets and moats, since he kind of reminds me of a duke. But the mansion is completely modern. I do a double take. The house is large and lovely, but the grounds are much larger and much lovelier, in my estimation.
“You live with your family?” I ask, pointing to the other cars. “Or are those yours too?”
“I live with . . . friends.”
“You have roommates?” I practically squeal. That would bring him down a little bit closer to my level.
His laughter is deep and booming, resonating throughout the vehicle. Opening the door, he says, “Something like that.”
And then he comes around and opens my side too
. He holds out his hand to help me out, but I pause at the sight of the marble paving stones beneath my feet. Marble. In the freaking driveway. What am I doing here? Is it too late to run down to the flats? Or beg Vasily to drive me home? No. I’m here for the job so I can keep my parents’ house. There’s no way I’m losing it to nasty Bob. You can do this, Amaya. You’ve got this.
“There you are,” says an incredibly tall man standing at the front door. “And this must be Amaya.”
I look between Vasily and the man. With hair the color of sunlight and the palest of skin, physically, he’s the polar opposite of my host. The image of a large fig tree blinks into my head. Weird, but growing up in the Edge around Signum, one learns to ignore things that don’t make sense.
“Amaya, meet Bodhi Stetler. He’s one of my ‘roommates.’ ”
Bodhi gives Vasily a look, his eyebrows and nose scrunching, and then extends his hand toward me. “It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“You have? Why?” My mother always told me it was a compliment when people said this.
Bodhi looks at Vasily again, who gives him a tiny headshake on his way to the front door. I raise my chin and place my hands on my hips. Vasily gossiped about me to this guy. Encouraging, but his roommate? Yeah, that doesn’t sound quite right.
“Welcome to our home,” Vasily says, ushering me inside. Bodhi follows.
My eyes widen as I trail after the men, who remove their shoes at the entrance and place them on a chrome shoe rack inside the front door. I follow suit and am handed a pair of slippers, ostensibly to keep my feet warm on the cold marble floor, a more delicate white veined with silver than the sturdy grey of the driveway.
The entryway is a vast indoor forest. Trees are lined up in pots, ivy and trumpet vines creep down the walls, and there’s a freaking black-bottomed lagoon in the center. The ceiling is so far above me I have to crane my neck to see the glass dome, sunlight pouring in. I pick my jaw up off the floor.
There’s an upstairs too, but the second level encircles the space so it doesn’t block the glass roof. Floating spiral metal staircases lead down from the corners.
“You live here?” I tear my gaze away from the interior to peer up at Vasily.
A smile plays on his lips. “Magical, isn’t it?”
“That’s one word for it,” I say. “I can’t wait to see the stables.”
“Stables?” Bodhi echoes.
Vasily holds a hand up and Bodhi shrugs. Wait, is this a setup? Did Vasily lie to get me here? I rub the back of my neck as it prickles with invisible cold.
“You do have stables, don’t you?”
“Of course.” Vasily shoots Bodhi a look that could wither a rose and commands, “Tell her.”
“It’s where we keep the horses,” Bodhi responds slowly, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“I’m hiring Amaya to take care of them,” Vasily adds, his voice still firm and resonant.
Bodhi’s face tenses up even more. “But that’s—”
Vasily holds up a hand. “Thank you for your input, Bodhi. We’re going to hire Amaya on a trial basis to see if it works out for everyone. She needs a job and I need help with Sequoia.”
“Have you told—”
Vasily clears his throat and shakes his head at the other man. Obviously, Bodhi is not copacetic with me working here, but Vasily seems to be in charge.
“Welcome aboard.” Bodhi extends his hand, his wry grin that of a man who knows he’s lost an argument. An argument over what, I wish I knew.
I clasp his hand. The man easily dwarfs my five foot seven. Hell, he even dwarfs Vasily, who stretches over six feet. Is this guy close to seven?
A true smile spreads across his face, turning his features playful. “Your room is ready.”
“My room?” I look back at Vasily and Bodhi clutches my hand tighter.
“Not to move in to, but it’s there if you need to rest and as a place to keep your things,” Vasily says. “Taking care of horses is not an easy job.”
“Nor a clean one,” says Bodhi.
That’s for sure.
“Precisely.” Vasily tilts his head. “And . . . it’s an early morning job, so you may want to shower before returning home. We can offer you a private suite here where you won’t be disturbed. By anyone.”
Privacy is a plus. I nod, biting my lip. Dang. I wish I could live here, but in a house with hot men? I’m assuming his other roommates are just as lovely, and maybe there aren’t any other women here . . . Nah, in a mansion like this, I’d get lost just trying to find the bathroom.
“There she is,” a deep voice rings out and I spin around as another man descends the staircase.
What the hell? This guy makes Sam Heughan look like an ogre. Some women might find his lumberjack appearance unattractive, but not me. No siree.
“Amaya,” Vasily motions to the red-haired Viking on the stairs, “this is Arch Stetler.”
And what an arch he is. He looks like he could singlehandedly hold up the entrance to Notre Dame Cathedral. I do a small curtsy. Where the hell did that come from? I don’t curtsy.
“Well, isn’t she enchanting,” Arch replies from the staircase.
I stifle a giggle, not wanting to seem unenchanting, though I have no idea what that even means. His long red hair flows down past his shoulders, mingling with his manicured beard. And those eyes are as green and bright as the cold North Sea. The copper hair and the beard remind me of Kristofer Hivju, the hot ginger wildling in Game of Thrones. Vroom.
Jules and I watch that show together every week, each of us calling dibs on our favorite guys. The rules are ridiculous. Whoever calls out the name of a guy first gets to add him to her stable. We even keep track on a notepad, as though its a list of all the guys we’ve fucked. I wish. After each show, we go over who has who and which of us is luckier. It always ends in a make-believe catfight. But the day I got Kristofer Hivju, she almost clawed my eyes out for reals.
“Let me show her to her room.” Arch motions me forward, and Vasily nods.
I want to argue, to say I don’t need a room because I’m not staying here, but I stay mum. Partly because I want to see what digs they have for me, but mostly because wherever Arch goes, I want to follow.
Redwood
When I’m on the stair below the Viking, he extends a hand. I stare at it dumbly. It’s easily twice the size of mine. Without waiting for my hand, he turns abruptly, taking the floating stairs two at a time.
Before I can dive after him, movement across the atrium catches my eye. A beautiful silver-haired woman dressed in a freaking French maid’s outfit is descending the opposite stairwell. It should set my heart at ease, having another woman here, but shock shoots through my system instead. Or is that jealousy?
I come unstuck and run up the stairs after Arch, who is waiting for me at the top with a cocked eyebrow.
“Who’s that?” I point to the woman as she reaches the bottom of the stairs and crosses over to Vasily and Bodhi.
“The butler.” He doesn’t hide his smirk.
I stare up at him like a starstruck puppy, then shake my head to release the spell he has me under. “But she’s dressed—”
He turns and walks away. “Precisely.” He laughs over his shoulder.
Funny. Not.
The second floor stretches out from both sides of the atrium, and every wall is lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, even along the hallways. A gleaming chrome railing runs around the top of the balcony, which offers unfettered views of the lush entryway below.
The sexy maid laughs at something Bodhi says, and she reaches out a doll-thin arm to touch Vasily’s shoulder. The silvery tresses piled atop her head aren’t in a neat maid’s bun. They’re tousled and wild in that “just fucked” look. Another stab of pain courses through my limbs. Is she a sex worker? No, that’s bitchy of me. Maybe she’s one of their girlfriends, and they like her to dress up in costumes? If so, what of it? I don’t have a claim to these men. They’re
free agents, and she’s obviously willing. So why am I so uptight? This sex doll has my panties in a bunch.
Arch clears his throat, and I follow him down the long windowed hallway, as if I’m a little lost puppy following its master. Does this guy have magical powers?
“I have to ask . . .” I call to his moving back.
“Yeah?” He stops and turns toward me.
“Are you . . .” I drop my gaze and suck in my bottom lip.
“It’s fine, you can ask me.” His voice is gentle, a complete contrast to the way he looks.
“It’s fine.” I wave my hand. “None of my business.”
“Actually, it is. You’re working here, you may be staying here. I’d say if it’s anyone’s business . . .” He points to me and smiles, gleaming white incisors catching me off guard.
“Vampire?” I guess.
“Warlock.” He bows.
A male witch. I guess I was right about the magical powers. “And you and Bodhi are brothers?”
“Don’t you think we look alike?” Without waiting for a response, he turns and continues down the hallway.
Another jokester?
I follow as he strides down a hallway that opens up to a spacious wing containing a sitting room with white leather couches and chairs. Ivy climbs up white trellises stuck to three walls, another floor-to-ceiling window completing the room.
“Why is there so much greenery?”
Arch walks backward a few steps to face me, his brows drawn together. “How well do you know Vasily?”
“Huh?”
He turns down another hallway and I catch up just as he opens the first door and ushers me inside. “This is your room. Whenever you need to rest from your work or if you’re ever too tired to go home, you’re welcome to stay here.”
The walls are painted a dusty mauve with vibrant flowers and tall, climbing vines that look so real I have to reach out and touch them. Whoever painted them was a master artist. They stretch up the walls and creep onto the ceiling, forming a lush canopy overhead. A vibrant blue sky peeks through spaces in the foliage. The pink and lavender furniture is shabby chic, a little distressed and a lot French. The legs curve into delicate spirals and the pulls are ornate, almost filigree.
