Page 24

There was another knock on the door. This time when Clive opened it, Russell stood in the hall, my backpack in his hand. “Sire,” he said as he passed the bag in. I was struck, painfully, with how that beat-up, ratty, old backpack was me, being passed about, a blemish in this opulence.

“If our visitors need to speak with me, they can wait until I get Sam settled.” He turned his back as Russell bowed out the door.

I stared at him aghast and then said, “I thought he was your friend.”

“Who?”

I pointed at the door. “Russell.”

Clive appeared confused by the question, my change in tone. “He’s my second.”

“You said I could trust him with my life.” Was this a vampire thing? Was aloofness a prerequisite?

“Yes.” Clive waited for me to get to the point.

“You turned your back on him as he was bowing to you. I can’t tell if that’s some racist colonial bullshit or some vampire hierarchical bullshit, but either way, it’s rude.”

Clive looked completely taken aback. “I was rude?”

“People bow and ‘liege’ all over the place, and you take it as your due and sail right past them. What is that if not superior rudeness?” I picked up the blanket I’d dropped when I’d jumped on the bed and wrapped it around myself. “Maybe that’s why all the vampires I’ve met have been pompous twats. It’s a trickle-down behavior.” The room had lost some of its luster. I missed my Slaughtered Lamb.

Clive reached out an arm toward me but didn’t make contact. “Come sit down and eat. Afterward, you can have a hot bath.” He gestured across the room. “Whatever toiletries you need should be stocked.” He sat in a chair angled toward the sofa. “Eat while it’s still warm.”

Sitting, I searched his face, looking for anger or resentment, but there was nothing. It was as though I hadn’t just insulted him.

Leaning forward, he pulled the dome off the plate. A bowl of French onion soup and a warm, crusty sourdough roll. The fragrance was mouthwatering and set my stomach to rumbling. Clive gave a small, secret smile at the sound.

“Sorry.”

Leaning back and making himself comfortable, he asked, “For calling me a racist twat or for being hungry?”

Taking a bite of the roll, I said, “Being hungry.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

I took a spoonful of the soup and closed my eyes. It tasted every bit as delicious as it smelled. When I opened my eyes, I found Clive studying me.

“One of the things I enjoy about spending time with you is that all the old rules no longer apply. The dismissive behavior that offends you so greatly is expected by vampires. We are very much a hierarchical collective.” He appeared lost in thought for a moment. “Perhaps because we came to be in parts of the world where monarchs and oligarchs ruled, we have unconsciously mirrored the power structure. I would guess that if vampires originated in the States, we’d behave quite differently.” His expression softened. “You know, you’re the only one who insults me, and yet I trust you implicitly and enjoy your company. Why is that?”

Shrugging, I took another spoonful and swallowed. “You’re perverse?”

He nodded slowly. “Most assuredly.” He glanced around again, as though seeing the room for the first time. “Do you like it?”

“What’s not to like?” Was he kidding? It was a freaking palace.

“If you decide you’d prefer something different, it can be altered.” His voice remained calm and neutral, but he seemed honestly concerned that I wouldn’t like his house. “You’re used to a view of the water, so I hoped you’d like this.”

“I’m only here for one night. It’ll be fine.”

He made a non-committal sound.

We sat in companionable silence while I finished eating. Once I was done, Clive stood and beckoned me to follow. He opened the door to the bathroom, allowing me to go first. It was light and airy, white marble floors with walls the barest hint of blue-gray. Sea glass decorated the shower. Inexplicably, a lovely crystal chandelier dropped from the high ceiling and a chaise lounge resided beneath the window.

“Is that in case showering takes too much out of me, and I need a nap?”

Clive grinned. “I take no responsibility for the decorating.” He glanced up at the chandelier. “I’ve always found that odd in a toilet, but I don’t really spend a lot of time in these places, so how would I know? Indoor plumbing didn’t exist when I was young, so it all seems strange when I stop to think about it.”

He scanned the room for something and then opened a cleverly hidden door. “Your closet.”

Moving closer, I looked inside. Another chandelier, mirrors, built-in wooden shelves and drawers, as well as bars for hanging clothes, I was pretty sure the closet was bigger than my apartment. There were clothes in the closet, too.

“Is this someone’s room?”

“Yours. I thought I’d made that clear.” The mocking tone made me smile.

Pointing to the clothes, I raised my eyebrows in question.

“Again, yours.” It was there and gone in a minute, but I’d seen it. Clive was uncomfortable.

“My clothes are stuffed in my backpack.” I’d agreed to come ten minutes before we arrived. How were there clothes for me in the closet?

“Yes. These are just a few things. I wanted you to be comfortable, to have what you needed. That’s all.” He stuffed his hands in his perfectly draped trousers.

“I can’t tell if this is sweet or super creepy. Are there panties in there?”

He threw up his hands and walked out of the bathroom. “I have no idea. I asked that items be picked up for you, so you’d understand you were welcome. It isn’t as though I picked out your underthings.”

“Whew, that’s a relief.” I followed him out, tickled by his discomfort.

“I’ll leave you to bathe and prepare for bed.” He glanced around the room, as though checking to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be. “I have a meeting downstairs. If you need anything, use that phone by your bed. Dial 0. Someone should always be manning the phones. Ask for Russell. He’ll come help you.” He reached out and cupped my face with one hand, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “It makes me very happy to have you here.”

Grinning, I squeezed his wrist. “Thanks.”

He held my gaze a moment, expression unguarded, and then he left. I watched him go, and then grabbed my backpack and returned to the bathroom. After a ridiculously luxurious shower, with multiple shower heads and a steam bath, I opened my backpack and pulled out the sweats I slept in. They’d always seemed good enough before, but now, sitting on a marble counter, they looked sad.

Tightening the bath sheet I’d wrapped around myself, fresh from the warming rack, I wandered into the closet. Telling myself I was only curious, I opened a drawer. Bras and panties in a rainbow of colors were lined up in neat rows. I wondered whose job that was. I checked the sizes and was disconcerted to see they were correct.

“Okay, I guess I’m doing this.” I dried off and pulled on a pair of blue panties. When in Rome and all that. I opened another drawer and found a set of sea-green silk pajamas. I said an internal apology to my crappy sweats before donning them. I felt like an idiot playing dress up, but they were lovely and who would know?

I locked the door because, well, vampires, turned out the light, and climbed into the sumptuous bed. I considered closing the draperies around the bed so my Hogwarts fantasy would be complete, but I couldn’t get past the thought of being pulled into a vision and no one knowing. If Clive stopped in after his meeting, I wanted him to know I was trapped, to see me slack-jawed and staring into space. Not that slack-jawed was a good look for me.

The visions were horrific. I’d had some success veering from the path they wanted me on, but it wasn’t enough. If I couldn’t get myself out, I at least wanted some control over what happened to me in them. Clive had a huge library downstairs. Maybe he had something on lucid dreaming or strengthening the mind.

Positive I could find the library again, I went to my door, unlocked it, and ducked my head out. Silence. I waited a few minutes just to make sure. I’d need to make it down two flights of stairs without anyone noticing. I wasn’t too optimistic. Checking to make sure my pajama top was buttoned up to the collar, I headed out.

Barefoot, I padded silently down the hall to the top of the stairs. Nothing. I jogged down a flight and then stopped to assess again. Still nothing. Where the hell was everyone? Tiptoeing down the last flight, I slowed as the stairs opened to the foyer. That butler guy James was probably lurking somewhere close.

Deciding sprinting was the better strategy, I ran for it. Down the last steps, around the corner, down the hall and through the double doors. I held my breath as I closed them quietly behind me. Waiting, I listened intently for any sound. Nothing.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I turned to the library. Moonlight illuminated much of the room, and I had excellent night vision, so even as I reached for the light switch, I thought better of it. I didn’t want to call attention to myself.

I walked to the shelves, looking for books on psychology. I eventually found them on the second level. It was a huge section, which made sense considering how much vampires like to screw with people’s heads. I found two titles related to lucid dreaming. I grabbed both before descending the spiral staircase to the library’s main floor. There were chairs and a sofa, but I went straight back to the window seat. I found the copy of Jane Eyre lying right where I’d left it last time. Clive promised he’d leave her be. I couldn’t explain why, but it tightened my throat to find her waiting for me.

Climbing into the window seat, I found a throw to snuggle under, and then I began to thumb through the books, looking for strategies on taking control while dreaming. Unfortunately, most of what was written didn’t apply to what was happening to me. I was skimming a chapter on mapping the mind when I heard the doorknob turn. Adjusting the curtain, I tucked my feet under me, effectively hiding myself. As long as no one walked over here, I wouldn’t be seen.

“What room is she in?” The voice, a low, angry hiss, made me flinch.

“Blue.” A different voice said.

“Well, isn’t that cozy?” Disdain dripped from his words.

“Why now, when we have guests? I overheard one of their nocturne talking with their human assistant about our Master’s dirty little secret.”

“He’s obsessed with the dog.”

Shit.Shivering in the sudden cold, I looked over my shoulder. The window at my back looked out over the moonlit garden. I peered into the night, searching for movement, and was distracted by the waxing moon. It was almost time.

“He’ll make us a laughingstock.”

“Worse. They’ll think we’re weak. Ripe for attack.”

They were quiet for a moment, footsteps moving from the door. Moon at my back, enemies at the fore, I shivered, the feel of fur bristling under my skin. No, no, no. Changing would take time and make noise. I’d be vulnerable to the ones who wanted to hurt me. That was not an option. Hands fisted on my thighs, I pushed the wolf down.

“We have to save him from himself.”

The voices were closer now. Tucking the blanket and book behind me, I readied myself to fight.

“He’s meeting with Santiago in the study. Do we do this here, when it’s obvious it was one of us?”

“We stage it, so it doesn’t look like one of our kills.”

“Why not just snatch her while he’s distracted. We can dump the body where no one will find it.”

A cold sweat broke out across my chest. How easily they plotted my death, and for no other reason than the embarrassment of Clive caring for a werewolf.

“I’m sick of thinking about the mongrel.”

“We need to be seen going downstairs. No one was informed ahead of time that she was coming, so it’s plausible we didn’t know she was here. We make sure we’re seen going into our rooms, and then we take the servants’ stairs up. With the visitors to entertain, no one may even notice us.”

Sharp pain in my palm. I unclenched my hands and watched my nails transform. Short, unvarnished nails were thickening and lengthening to points. Claws. I’d never transformed early, never. What was happening to me?

“If he discovers it was us, it’ll mean our permanent death.”

“Then we better not get caught.”

The door opened and closed with a quiet snick. Staring at the claws shooting out from my hands, I felt revulsion. I was a human or I was a wolf, not both at the same time. Was this what it was going to be like without my mother’s necklace to dampen the wolf? Would I sprout fur when I got angry?

Horrified, I felt shame as I hadn’t since I’d first turned, since my body had been taken out of my control. When I ran as a wolf, I made sure I was alone. I stalked deer and hunted rabbits alone. I hadn’t had to reconcile that part of me because I hadn’t had to share it. Everyone knew I was a werewolf, and yet I was still a secret.

Now, in a nocturne of vampires, I had weapons to defend myself. I should feel powerful and ready to fight. I knew that. But staring at my claws, all I felt was stomach-nauseating shame, my otherness glaring. I didn’t want anyone—especially Clive—to see them, to see me as less than human.