Page 9

Maxine

All things considered, Leah was not as furious with me as she could have been.

Not anymore. Or at least, not outwardly anyway.

Or maybe she was and she’d just gotten better at hiding it?

Either way, the shopping trip had gone rather well, save for that small hiccup in the dressing room.

But that was entirely on me. I’d let the mask slip.

My hand had lingered at her back for a second too long. I’d held her gaze and… had she seen it? The buried affection brimming behind my eyes?

I sipped my coffee, then grimaced at the subtle tang of artificial vanilla. Flavored coffee beans? A travesty.

“Maxine? Maxine, where’s your head at?”

It took two minutes of frowning into my cup before I realized someone was talking to me. I blinked twice, lifting my head to find four sets of eyes on me, one of them being Ethan’s.

The freshly-turned vampire man cocked his head to the side, blond hair tumbling over his eyes. He needed a haircut. “Something wrong with your coffee, madame?”

“I wouldn’t call this coffee.” I set my cup down, gesturing around me to the quaint coffee shop we were lounging in. “Who picked this place, anyway?”

“That would be Claire.” Ethan leaned back in his seat and jutted his chin at the Leyore woman sitting to his right, a wicked grin plastered across his fine features. “Though I suspect it had more to do with the barista himself rather than the coffee he brews.”

Claire flushed bright pink, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I just think he’s sweet.”

The rest of our small circle tittered in response; Ethan donning significantly more swagger since his transition into vampirism, Eric, the pretty young Leyore vamp Ethan had been courting, and Analise, a shy, sensitive vamp with a keen eye for fashion. We got along swimmingly.

Our monthly meetups at various coffee shops around the city was something of a staple.

While I loved the Leyore women more than I loved to shop, Jordan, Hunter, River, Dylan – all of them, they cared little for the finer things in life.

They didn’t want to talk about the latest Chanel line, or spin fresh gossip in a lovely little boutique.

This group, on the other hand, lived for the drama – and they were always well-dressed.

“Leave Claire alone.” Eric swatted Ethan on the shoulder with a laminated menu, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the barista who scurried about, completely unaware of the attention on him. “I can see the appeal, he’s got quite the buffet-bod under that apron.”

“And I suppose you’re into that?” Ethan sighed, sticking out his arm and examining one skinny wrist. “If so, I've got a long way to go.”

Eric reached for his wrist, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss there. “You’re perfect as you are. And that ass is immaculate.”

Analise sputtered behind her coffee cup, shaking her head. “We are in public . Save your lewd comments for the bedroom.”

“Oh please.” Ethan chuckled, linking his fingers with Eric’s and raising a brow at Analise. “We’ve all read your poetry. Tell me, does Georgina know you referred to her breasts as – what was it again? ‘Glistening mounds of succulent delight’.”

It was Analise’s turn to blush and she promptly lifted a menu to her nose, pretending to be thoroughly invested in the assortment of pastries on sale.

“Speaking of gorgeous specimens –” Eric leaned forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Have you all heard the news of the new vampire in town? Apparently he’s quite the mystery – charming, according to my sources, and ruggedly handsome to boot.”

Interest piqued, the table leaned closer, myself included. It was not often that new vampires wandered into the city, those not bound to the Leyore coven. Vampires were territorial, and the various covens across the country – and the loners too – tended to keep a safe distance from each other.

A new face was not necessarily bad news, but in light of the strange occurrences of late, and the odd man in the bowler hat popping up outside my window, not to mention that wax-model woman at the mall… I was wary.

"What does he look like?" I found myself asking, tension beginning to coil in my stomach.

Eric rubbed the dark stubble on his chin. "Tall, blond hair streaked with grey – a silver fox if you will. Dorian ran into him last week at a gala. Said he has a bit of an old-world charm about him. Dresses like he's walked out of another era. Beard just a little bit grizzly – very dashing."

I shifted in my chair. Dorian was another member of our motley crew, a highborn vamp and a hopeless romantic. He swooned over just about anyone with a modicum of decorum, and it often led him to trouble.

Eric’s voice dropped an octave and we all edged closer. “But it was his eyes that added to the mystery. Dorian said they were red, blood red where they should have been white. And his irises were blue, crisp like icicles.”

A cold dread settled in the pit of my stomach and I stilled, my hands curling to fists on my knees.

It couldn’t be – it couldn’t be him . But… those eyes, that antiquated charm that masked a festering rot beneath. Could he have found me? After all these years?

“What did he want?” I asked abruptly, interrupting whatever Claire was whispering. “When Dorian spoke with him – Did he mention why he was here?”

Ethan raised an inconspicuous brow at me but I ignored him, fixing my attention on Eric.

The vampire man shrugged, scratching at his stubble. “I’m not sure. Dorian was probably too busy looking at his lips to listen to a word he said. But I think he mentioned a love interest? Most likely to shut Dorian down – you know the guy isn’t very subtle when he has his eye on someone.”

"I need to go." I pinged to my feet, standing so quickly my chair scraped loudly against the floor. “Tell Dorian no matter what, he needs to stay away from that man.”

"Maxine, what's wrong?" Concern flickered in Ethan’s eyes and he half-rose from his chair. “Do you know him–”

"Nothing’s wrong, I just... tell Dorian to keep his distance.” I threw down some cash for my drink, swiping my purse from the table. "Excuse me."

I hurried out of the coffee shop and something rancid curdled in my belly. That age-old primal fear settled over me, slick and oily on my skin. He was here, in the city, and he was looking for me. And I would never go back. I wouldn’t. Couldn’t. I would never –

“Maxine! Wait.” Ethan’s cry reached me through the frenzied fog and I stumbled, my heel catching in the cracks of the sidewalk.

But I couldn’t wait. I had to prepare, to protect the life I had built here. I had to–

“Maxine.” Ethan’s arms circled me and I halted, my breaths coming in short sharp bursts. I sagged against his back, my legs turning to jelly, and Ethan exhaled over my shoulder. “Just, hang on for a second okay? Just breathe.”

I sucked in a breath. It came out again as a shaky sob. Ethan’s arms tightened around me and I clung to him. My mind raced, reeling through sunken memories that ripped to the surface again. Memories of being nineteen, when my short life had veered dangerously close to becoming a living nightmare.

When my parents, powerful nobles and painfully traditional, had arranged my marriage to a man I had barely met.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the memories coming back in waves, crashing over my bowed head.

At first, I had resigned myself to fulfilling my duties, to abide by the expectations of my family.

But then I had started to listen, to gather whispers and rumors, plucking hushed news from the grapevine and piecing together what I could.

My betrothed was known for his charm. It was a charm I had witnessed first hand, during our brief interaction at one of my parents’ parties – before they broke the news.

But he was also known for his cruelty, his possessiveness that bordered on obsessiveness.

He was an ancient vampire with a long, dark history behind him.

He was a man who viewed his partners as possessions, to be locked away in a gilded cage and gawked at. To churn out heirs and keep him happy.

And I had seen it, in that brief instance at the party, when he had taken my hand and kissed it – and gripped it just a little too tight. I had seen it in his blood-shot eyes when they tracked me across the room, cold and confident, like I already belonged to him.

The more I learned, the more I understood that marrying him would mean the end of any semblance of freedom I so dearly cherished. At the same time, my heart had begun to stray towards someone else – someone who showed me what it could mean to choose love, not obligation.

I gasped out a breath, leaning on Ethan as Leah’s face swam before my eyes. I had only just gotten her back, she had turned up out of the blue and offered me a second chance. I was not so bold to believe I would get a third.

And now he was back. He was going to rip me away from her all over again.

Back then, when I decided that I wouldn’t – couldn’t marry him, I ran.

Driven by desperation and the first threads of real courage I had ever mustered I left everything behind – my family, my home, the life that had been meticulously planned out for me.

And I left Leah too, unable to explain myself and unwilling to put her in danger.

I ended up in New York, a city bursting with strangers and big enough to hide in.

I was utterly alone, scared, and without a plan.

That was how I found myself outside High Stakes headquarters, having heard of the Leyore coven, and hoping that maybe, just maybe, I could find refuge there, or at least plead my case.

Instead, I bumped into Hunter, whose suspicion of me was immediate and palpable. Our first interaction was nothing short of a verbal skirmish, with me firing off a rapid list of critiques about her approach, her strategy, and her outfit. All of which were in poor taste.