Page 62 of Inked & Bloodbound
“Right,” I mumble.
I want to tell him about what I learned from Pat. That my mom was a medium, who definitely did run with, and likely pissed off, the criminal vampires he associates with, but the words stick in mygullet. I can’t bring myself to say them, not yet. We have to find Megan. She’ll be able to tell me more. I just know it.
“Okay”, I say, straightening up. “So, what? You need me to come with you? Listen in to what they’re thinking? Find clues? That kind of thing?”
“Exactly,” he says.
“Done.”
“Easy, now,” he says with a proud smile. “First, we’ll need a practice run. The Jackalope is perfect because it’ll be packed with vamps, but it’s way more casual than the club. Less dangerous. It’s a chance for you to listen to more than just me. It’ll be intense, but it’s better for you to be prepared.”
“Then we go to this club?”
“That’s the plan.” He hesitates. “I just need to work on getting us in. This place is strictly invite-only.” His expression sobers. “I won’t lie to you—there are risks. But I’ll be with you every step of the way. I promise.”
He strokes my face, and I pull back slightly, my stomach clenching. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” My tone is harsher than I intended, and I see the confusion flicker across his face. I take a breath, trying to soften my voice. “I’m sorry, it’s just…that word is hard for me.”
He drops his hand from my face, giving me space. “Promise?”
“My mom used to make promises all the time. ‘I promise I’ll get clean.’ ‘I promise this is the last time we move.’ ‘I promise things will be different.’” I wrap my arms around myself. “She meant them when she said them, I think. But she broke every single one. After a while, promises just started to sound like…lies with good intentions.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes. “I see.”
“I know you mean it,” I say quickly. “And I know you’re not her. But could you maybe just…say you’ll do your best? That feels more honest.”
He nods slowly. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe, Lily. That’s not a promise—that’s just who I am when it comes to you.” He glances toward the window, where the first hints of dawn are starting to creep across the sky. “I should go soon.”
“Where do you go when you leave?” I ask, suddenly curious. “Do you have an apartment somewhere?”
He’s quiet for a moment, then: “I have a place, but lately, I’ve been sleeping in the ground.”
“Good one,” I say with a chuckle.
When he doesn’t laugh, I realize he’s serious.
“We belong to the earth.” He meets my eyes, something bashful flashing in them. “The first night we met, after I took you home from the tattoo shop, I slept in the dirt across the street. I wanted to stay close, to make sure you were safe.”
The confession makes my chest tight. “You watched over me?”
“I couldn’t see you, but yes. I listened to your heartbeat all night. It was the most peaceful I’d felt in decades.”
I reach out to cup his face, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his voice and kiss him. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me onto his lap, kissing me deeply as his fingers rake up the back of my neck and through my hair.
“I’ll be back later to pick you up,” he murmurs against my lips. “Try to get some rest.”
It must bearound lunchtime when I finally wake. The warmth of the midday sun filters through the blinds and warms my skin. I gradually peel back my satin eye mask and let the light eke in, yawning and stretching as I take in the day.
Something catches my eye on my bedside table, a scrap of paper with torn edges balanced on a stack of books. I hold it up to the light and study a rough pencil sketch of me sleeping. My naked body draped in a sheet like a Renaissance painting, and a note that reads, “See you tonight x.”
I run my fingers along the edges and smile to myself imagining him watching me sleep, rapidly committing each detail to paper in the quiet moments before dawn.
As the light streams through the kitchen windows, I pour myself a coffee, idly stirring it as I mentally go through every possible outfit in my closet. What am I supposed to wear to a vampire bar? I doubt blue jeans will cut it, so I settle on the burgundy Balmain dress Kate bought me as a gift last year. The one that cost so much the tag nearly gave me a heart attack.
“You need a sex dress,” she’d said simply as she handed over her platinum AMEX like it was nothing. “Something you can squeeze into with a pair of fuck-me heels. Something that makes you feel absolutely fabulous.”