Page 28 of Blood Lovers (American Vampires #1)

Door number two, please.

Where to start? I mean, which betrayal should I consider first? Because this is my life. Nothing but a big, long lie.

And it started on day one.

I take deep breaths as I look out the window of the helicopter. I’m not dressed for this journey. I’m freezing. My hands, though stuffed into my pockets, are ice. There is a wind leaking through from the outside as we trek northeast, the sun mostly obscured by heavy cloud cover, and everything below me is nothing but cold, hard rock covered in snow.

I have no idea where we are. Above the mountains, that’s all I know.

But I do know where we’re going. The vampire’s lair. My end.

Paul’s last words to me back at the spa have been echoing through my head since I followed him up those stairs and got in behind him.

It wasn’t you I was after, it was him .

I huff out a laugh here. Because… wow. Ya know? Just… there it is. The truth. Finally. Some truth. And it came from the fucking vampire.

This truth was so stunning, and this vampire’s audacity is so… refreshing compared to all the lies I’ve been subjected to, that I followed him up to the roof and when he held the door of the helicopter open for me, I got in. Still stunned.

Why did I get in?

If I had a friend to talk this over with at some point in the future, she would ask me this question. And I’m not sure I have a good response for this. Maybe I’m so insecure that I figure what Paul is offering me is the best I can do?

Maybe feeding a growing vampire is just my lot in life, so why fight it?

If Zusi were my real friend, and we could have this conversation, then she would say, “You’re better than this.” She would be long and wordy about it, of course. She would go on and on about… something I was good at. Which—now that I’m taking stock of myself and my life—appears to be a list of one. Nourishing evil.

But, if she were my friend, she would make things up. “You’re smart, Syrsee. You have so much to offer.” Shit like that.

And I would probably just agree with her because that’s what you do when your best friend is pumping you up. You fall into the illusion and believe the lies.

But I don’t have the energy. So I don’t think it was low self-esteem. I don’t think Paul is the best I can do. That’s not why I got in.

There might be another reason why I’m flying over the Rocky Mountains with a vampire. Perhaps Paul compelled me?

It’s not likely though. It’s just not his style.

Everyone has rules. Even evil. So I think Paul needs everyone to choose him. He said as much. Not that a vampire’s word means anything to me. But did he force me into this helicopter?

No. He didn’t.

So I don’t think I was compelled.

And that leaves just one other possibility—that I can think of, anyway.

I’ve got… hope . Hope that somehow, some way, this direction I’m headed isn’t my destiny.

Hope is a dangerous thing. It blinds you. Much like the lying best friend. But it’s different because you’re the one pumping yourself up, not some outside entity.

And this is bad. Really bad. Because I’m no one. Let’s face it, I was bred. That’s what he said. You were bred for this purpose, Syrsee . This is why I exist. It is my destiny.

And you know, it’s a little bit of a relief. At least my life makes sense now. At least I understand the abandonment. Because it wasn’t abandonment at all, was it? It was… what?

A contract.

I was a box checked off on an order form and nothing more.

I wasn’t left at the Guild compound. I was… delivered. As promised and on time.

Wow.

I huff out another laugh, causing Paul to swivel in his seat to see me better. When the door to the helicopter slid open and I was directed to get in, it felt a little bit like climbing into a minivan. The main part of the passenger cabin was a seating arrangement of four luxury leather chairs. But behind them, in the back, were four more seats, smaller and closer together. I wanted to go back there because the four in front were facing each other and I didn’t want to encourage a conversation.

But there was no way to get into that space without adjusting the chair blocking the entrance, so I took the luxury seat on the far end and turned my face to the viewing window.

Paul pointed to the headset attached to my chair just before we lifted off, encouraging me to wear it, but I didn’t. So I can’t hear anything but the loud thumping of the helicopter’s rotors.

But Paul is talking to me anyway. And I’m watching his lips so I hear the words in my head in his voice. You’re right where you’re supposed to be, love .

He’s listening to my thoughts?

I turn away from him without acknowledging anything and go back to looking out the window. There’s something below us now and as soon as I think this, we’re descending, tipping forward in a downward motion that makes me brace my hands on the arms of the seat as the edge of the compound comes into view.

It’s big. Much, much bigger than the spa we just came from. In fact, it looks like a town—a little, very secluded mountain town complete with more buildings than I can count and tiny people making their way down heated pathways towards… whatever people do when they work for a vampire.

We touch down on a square of blacktop with a giant H in the center. And then the door opens and the already frigid temperature inside the cabin drops to a whole new level.

Paul gets out and waits, offering me his hand.

I get up, ducking, ignore his hand, and jump out. Still ducking and confused, because I don’t know where we’re going or what happens now.

But his hand is there in the small of my back, encouraging me to go in a particular direction. We move quickly, still ducking until the danger of spinning rotors are behind us, and head towards a massive lodge, even bigger and more impressive than the one at the spa.

When the doors open and two footmen appear, nodding at Paul as he whisks me inside, a blast of heat blows down from the ceiling and I almost stop to bask in the warmth.

But I can’t because Paul is still directing me with a hand on the small of my back, and then another set of doors open while the first set closes, and we are inside.

I am inside the vampire’s lair.

I shake my head as we walk, passing by many people who look human, but stare at me with a hunger in their eyes, so I know they’re not.

It’s like they can smell me.

And maybe they can?

I am food, after all.

But I know they’re not vampires, either. Because Paul says he’s the only one and Ryet is his pet project. So they are something else, I guess.

My ears are still humming from the noise of the helicopter, but that thrum begins to fade as Paul barks out instructions to his minions. “Turn the heat up. Get the chef in the kitchen. Is the guest suite prepared?”

He’s talking to a young girl. Maybe twenty. She is petite, and pretty, and has a pink bob haircut that shines in the warm glow of the chandeliers. She’s nodding her head as she talks. “Yes, my lord. Everything is set.” Then she bows a little and waits for his next response.

Paul glances at me, smiling. And all I see are his fangs covered in blood.

Except they aren’t bloody. That’s just a memory from earlier.

“Good, Echo. Good girl. Take—”

But he’s interrupted by another voice. “I’ll take her, Echo.” It’s another woman wearing an elaborate navy-blue satin gown. It’s low-cut and her breasts are so full, they are practically popping out of the thing.

She and Paul are staring at each other. Like there’s a battle of wills going on.

Is this the other vampire?

She has red hair, green eyes, and very fair skin. In fact, the longer I look at her the more certain I am that she is the woman Paul referred to earlier.

“Lucia. No one asked you.”

She curtsies, which makes me squint. Because it’s… not appropriate. I’ve been here all of two minutes and I can tell that she is… what? Making fun of him?

Yes. The curtsey is some kind of sarcastic gesture. Something little girls do, not grown women.

“My lord.” She says this with sarcasm too. Like he’s not her lord at all, but she’s required to call him that. “This is a very important duty. The girl is your feeder, is she not?”

“You know she is.”

The woman, Lucia, looks around, again mockingly. “And where is her hunter? Where is Ryet?”

Paul doesn’t explain anything about where Ryet is. And he doesn’t miss a beat, either. “He’s on his way in the truck. Not that any of this concerns you.”

“I’m just trying to help.” Her tone has changed now. It’s lighter. A little more deferential, but not enough.

“Never mind.” Paul grabs my arm. “I’ll take her upstairs myself. Echo, come with me.”

I am physically turned in a new direction and then we’re walking toward a massive staircase that curves around the large foyer.

Paul is in a hurry. Maybe to get away from Lucia. The girl, Echo, falls in behind us, and then, when I look over my shoulder, Lucia is coming as well, even though she was clearly not invited.

Well, well, well. This is interesting. And unexpected. I really hadn’t thought much about the living arrangements or familial hierarchy of the vampire Paul, but now that I’m here in his compound I’m getting the feeling it’s more complicated than it should be.

Lucia isn’t as powerful as Paul. That is immediately apparent. But she’s not entirely under his thumb, either. Not like the young girl, Echo, is.

I’m trying to pay attention to where we’re going and how we’re getting there, but my mind is so distracted by the lodge, and the people, and the vampire Lucia coming up behind us, that I’m already being led up another set of stairs before I realize we’ve turned off the main hallway on the second story.

These stairs are narrow and steep and when we hit a landing and turn a corner, there is another flight of stairs. “Where are you taking me? To a fucking tower?”

Paul looks over at me, his eyes bright and his mouth quirked up in amusement.

God, why would you make such an evil creature so beautiful?

“A pretty little princess such as yourself deserves a proper tower, don’t you think?”

I don’t answer. Just force myself to stop looking at him. I can’t concentrate when he’s staring at me like that. He’s unnaturally handsome.

We finally reach a room and it is, indeed, a tower. Because it’s circular. Like we’re in a turret. Except log-cabin lodges don’t have turrets, so it’s more like a crow’s nest, I guess.

It’s not big, maybe twenty feet in diameter. And it really only contains three things—a bed, a chair, and an armoire. All three of these pieces of furniture are made from rustic, hand-scraped logs and boards.

Paul lets go of me when we enter and I look around, taking in my new accommodations.

It’s nice. I can’t say it’s not. The bed is covered in a luxurious comforter, possibly down. The duvet is mustard-yellow in color and has deep purple velvet piping around the edges. There’s a canopy too—also made of the same rustic logs—framed by matching velvet purple curtains. Heavy curtains. Like if you draw them closed the temperature inside might rise several degrees.

I’m still so cold that the thought of sleeping in that bed actually sounds enticing.

The walls are made of large river stones layered in gray mortar instead of logs, which cools the cozy nature of this lodge down, giving it a proper tower feel. There is a thick circular rug on the floor that mimics the shape of the room, leaving just a foot or so of stone tiles peeking out near the walls.

More purple velvet curtains cover a window, blocking all light. In fact, the only light in this room is coming from several strategically placed candelabras glowing with small, flickering flames from their many arms.

“Is it a prison cell or romantic getaway?” I can’t tell.

Paul chuckles. “Both, darling. But it’s comfy, isn’t it?”

“Depends, I guess. On what you plan on doing to me in here.”

Paul turns to me, smiling so big. More than just the cat who ate the mouse. He’s the lion who took down the elephant. A feast fit for a king. One that will feed his entire pride for decades. “Use your imagination, Syrsee. I’m sure it will come to you.”

A breath of revulsion comes out through my nose. And I’m frowning. And angry. And scared. And—

“Stop it! Right now!”

Paul’s sharp words shock me and I jump. But just before I do that, I notice that the perimeter wall of the tower room is hazy with a climbing lavender mist.

“Do you hear me?” Paul has grabbed my arm and he’s shaking me now. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?” I jerk my arm from his grip, or try to, but he’s got a good hold of me. “What are you talking about?”

He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he turns to Echo. “Get out, Echo. And don’t come back.” Echo bows and scurries back the way we came just as Paul is turning to Lucia. “Open the cabinet and get it all ready. She needs to be put down immediately before this goes any further.”

“What are you talking about?” I say it louder, struggling harder.

“Yes, my lord.” Lucia’s sudden deferential submission is clear in her response.

Which is scary now. Because I don’t understand what’s happening. But I do understand the words ‘put down.’ “What—”

Paul yanks my arm so hard, I stop my objection so I can wince at the pain. And that’s what I see what’s inside the armoire because Lucia has opened it up.

She wheels out an IV stand with an empty bag on it. An IV line is all ready, and a moment later she’s coming at me as she rips the sterile paper off a needle, making it glint in the amber glow of the tiny flickering fires all around me.

“No!” I look up at Paul. “You said I was for Ryet! You said—”

That’s as far as I get because he has pushed me up against the stone wall with such force, the air comes rushing out of my lungs in a desperate gasp.

Paul put his hand flat against my throat like he’s about to choke the life out of me. And then he leans down, his mouth angry, his eyes red—fully red, the way Ryet’s were that morning he was sick. And Paul says, in a low growl, “Do not. Cross me. If you fight me—”

And then he bites me. Right on the lip. A flash, his mouth, his teeth, and then—blood.

He pulls back and something has replaced my anger. Something like… lust.

Blood lover .

These words float around him as purple letters. Lingering in the air, undulating like they are made of the same mist that calls my dreamwalk. And I go absolutely still.

He backs off, breathing deeply, smiling now. “That’s better.” He places a hand on my cheek. “Be a good girl, Syrsee.” He croons this at me. Then he leans in and all I see is his mouth. His lips. And then he kisses me, tasting my blood and moaning a little.

I shrink back, repulsed, but also turned on.

When he pulls away, he’s laughing and barking orders to Lucia. “Get her ready. Ryet will be here soon and he will need to feed.”

“My lord. How much should I take?” Yes, Lucia is much, much more submissive now than she was downstairs. Maybe it’s because Echo is gone and there are no other subordinates to see her like this. Or maybe she really is afraid of him.

“Just enough to put her down. And Lucia?” Paul pauses until she looks him in the eyes. “Do not drink her.”

“Of course not, Paul. Of course not.”

The vampire Paul looks at Lucia for a long moment. His face does not betray his expression but I sense that he is calling her a liar in his head.

But then he nods. “Of course not.” And turns. And leaves.

Lucia waits for several more seconds, probably listening to his retreating footsteps. Then she turns to me and smiles. I hadn’t noticed the fangs, but there they are. Sharp, too. Pointy and thin. Almost elegant. “Now.” She smooths out an invisible wrinkle in her satin dress and tips her chin up. “Would you like to be eaten tonight, dear Syrsee? Or would you like to take door number two?”

“Door number two, please.”

“Good call.”