Page 3 of Vicious and Volatile (Vengeance and Venom #2)

D on’t lose track of time, I think to myself. Don’t lose track of time. You need to know how long you’ve been in here. You need to know the days. You need to understand how frequently he’s going to feed. If you lose track of time, you’re going to lose your mind.

9:56. I’ve been down here for four days. I’ve been marking the days by carving ticks into the wall with one of the kitchen knives. Lawrence fed on me just a little over twenty-four hours after I woke up here. It’s been two days of nothing. I’m mostly through the next day. And I’m about ready to lose my mind.

I keep a knife on me at all times. I’ll be more prepared next time Lawrence enters the apartment. He might have warned me that I’ll never get to him, but I’m going to try. Every. Single. Time.

At some point, I have to get the upper hand.

I try to keep myself physically ready. I do jumping jacks. Pushups. Crunches. I take a pillow from the bed and practice punches. I do everything I can to keep up my training. I’d already fallen behind, considering the last month I’ve taken off work. But I’ve still got it. I focus on my protein intake. I might be small, but I won’t be weak.

I pace back and forth in the apartment like a caged animal. I can’t focus on the TV. I can’t make myself get any farther than a few pages in the books I have at my disposal. My brain is stuck on a loop, replaying the same things over and over.

Stab Lawrence. Get the fuck out of here.

But I can’t stop worrying about Ares.

What did Augustus do after he sold me?

Has Ares figured it out yet that I’ve been taken by his father? He has to have, right? The timing is too tight. We discovered the awful truth when we found those three people in the basement of Augustus’s warehouse. And then I was taken just one day later? Ares has to have drawn the conclusions. I have to believe he has.

But fuck. Who will win in that altercation? Ares is a savage. I’ve seen it myself. The man radiates danger. But Augustus is heartless. Men without conscience are dangerous on a whole new level.

Time feels relative now. But later, I’m standing in the bathroom, looking in the mirror, so I don’t hear the door when it opens. Just, suddenly, some light footsteps. My heart jumps into my throat, fear and anxiety taking me in a choke hold.

But I’ve been waiting for this. Preparing.

I slip the knife out from where I’ve hidden it in my pants. I step just behind the corner of the bedroom door, poised. Ready.

Out in the living room, I hear Lawrence let out a breath, something that sounds a little exasperated. As I strain my ears, I hear him cross to the living room, and then he what? Settles down on the couch?

What is he doing?

I peer around the doorframe, and sure enough, Lawrence is sitting on the couch, facing away from me.

I step forward, one stride. Two.

I raise my arm. When I’m directly behind him, I swing, keeping my aim true.

Faster than I can see, Lawrence’s hand wraps around my wrist. The knife is suddenly gone, and a loud thwack sound reverberates across the room. My eyes flick to it and find the knife buried in the wall to the handle.

“Just sit, Lana,” Lawrence says, his teeth slightly gritted. My eyes flare wide as I look down at him, my heart hammering a thousand beats per minute. He looks… annoyed, but not surprised. He hauls me around the couch and pushes me back into the chair next to him.

I fall back into it with a huff, my fingers gripping the arms like my life depends on it. My breathing picks up, panic climbing my throat.

I just tried to kill this vampire. I failed miserably.

Now what?

Lawrence looks at me with an annoyed expression, but once I’m seated, he backs away and retakes his position on the couch. He takes a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself. He doesn’t seem angry or vengeful. Simply exasperated.

“You can keep trying all you like,” he says, and I can tell he’s exercising a lot of patience in this moment. “But you need to understand. I’m not joking when I tell you that you’re never going to gain the upper hand. I don’t want you getting yourself hurt in the process. ”

“I don’t get you,” I say aloud, shaking my head.

“That’s okay,” he says, farther proving my statement. “Very few in my life have.”

I shake my head. “Do you know how frustrating that is? Most everyone I’ve met in this world is pretty cut and clear. But you? A man who has bought me? I can’t figure you out. It’s more terrifying, not knowing what to expect.”

There. How’s that for honesty?

“Have I harmed you yet?” he asks. It’s hard to read his expression right now. He almost looks offended. But that’s not quite it. Maybe it’s boredom. No. Indifference?

“Besides biting into my neck?” I ask, venom dripping from my words. “Besides buying me and taking me from my fiancé and the life I’ve built?”

He lets out a hard breath through his nostrils. “You’re lucky it was me who purchased you,” he says, his tone growing colder. “Your life could be much darker, much colder, much more unpleasant right now. Do you understand that?”

I swallow once, because his words grow harder with each one spoken. And I know he’s right. I’d imagined a tiny cell with no bathroom. I imagined something like Augustus’s prisons beneath the warehouse.

I nod.

“Good,” he says, and he seems like he’s trying to calm or collect himself. He rubs his hand along the arm of the couch. “I consider myself an even-tempered man, Lana. It isn’t my wish to make you live a life of terror or fear. I do need your services. But you deserve a life of ease in exchange.”

“Can I ask a genuine question?” I say, trying to gain control over my emotions, trying to not be a fearful little girl trapped in this man’s basement .

“You can ask,” he says, no promise that he will answer.

“All of the vampires I’ve known just drink donated blood when they’re thirsty, or they go to parties with willing participants, or they just grab someone off the streets,” I say, gathering every ounce of calm I have. “Why aren’t any of those options for you?”

He considers my question for a moment. I see the gears turning behind his eyes. He doesn’t seem offended by my asking.

“I’m well known in my town,” he says finally. “I’ve lived here my entire life. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, here knows who I am.”

“But they don’t know what you are,” I say as things start clicking into place.

“Correct,” Lawrence says with a small nod. “My father was here and gone in just a few years. Wasn’t from here. Didn’t stay here. I didn’t know what I would be until I died in a skiing accident when I was thirty-seven. That was an experience, waking up on that mountain four days later, still at the bottom of a drop-off. I thought I was a demon. I thought I was possessed.”

I shake my head, and I hate that I feel any amount of sympathy for this man. But that would be awful. Waking up as a vampire, not having any idea what you were. I’ve never asked any of the vampires I know what those first few days after Resurrection are like, but I imagine it’s a few thousand levels beyond disorienting.

“I grew up very religious,” Lawrence says with a tiny chuckle. “Thus, I thought I was suddenly something sealed to the devil. Even more so for the next few weeks as I killed six people without even knowing what I was doing. ”

I have questions. I want to ask him if his mother knew what happened to him. What his job was. How did he gain back control to go back to his life?

But that would imply that I’m invested in Lawrence’s story. And I don’t want to be.

“Eventually, I started getting a grip on things,” Lawrence continues. He picks at something on his sleeve that’s invisible to me, but he flicks it on the floor. “I dared go back home. The town had questions about where I’d been for a few weeks. I’d told them I’d needed some mental health time. That doesn’t get questioned too often these days. But those first few weeks back to work?” he shakes his head. “They were rough.”

The town had questions.

Everyone here knows who he is.

He’s been here his whole life.

“You’re some kind of local leader, or politician, aren’t you?” I dare ask.

A small smile crooks in the corner of his mouth. “You’re smart, Lana. Yes, I’m the mayor here.”

Oh damn.

No wonder it would be bad if he went out and fed on someone. Or found some willing local. They could open their mouth and expose him.

“That first six months in office after I Resurrected was something I’d never want to relive again,” Lawrence says. “But I started digging. Inquiring. When the idea struck me that I could… find a permanent solution, I got to work. And I found Al.”

“I’m not the first person you bought,” I state. “How many were before me?”

“Just the one,” he says. I kind of can’t believe he’s being so open and honest with me. “I only have a year and a half left in my term. I won’t be seeking reelection. I’ll probably move. Might even look into joining the House of Conrath.”

Those few words ping in my brain. Right. The House system. The fact that there are fucking Royals among the vampires. He’s considering going into service of the Royal at that House. If I remember right, that one is in Mississippi.

This world is so much bigger than me.

“Why did you need a replacement?” I ask, redirecting my thoughts. “I’m the second. What happened to the first?”

For the first time in a while, Lawrence doesn’t answer right away. He looks at me for several long moments, considering how to answer my question. “Her mental state… degraded. As I said, she cried, a lot. From the moment she woke up down here, she couldn’t adjust. She broke. After four months, she became a danger to herself.”

“You let her go?” I ask, doubtful, but hopeful.

“I checked her in,” he says, but the fact that he doesn’t say anything more tells me that there is indeed, so much more.

He checked her into a mental hospital. That’s a whole damn story.

I shake my head. “You still didn’t answer all of my questions. What about donated blood? Why can’t you survive off of that?”

Ares does.

The look on Lawrence’s face instantly sours, pales. “Yes, I’ve known some who can drink it. I cannot.”

“Why?” I press.

His expression farther hardens. “Because it’s as satisfying as eating cold Cream-of-mushroom soup for survival. Could you force yourself to survive off that for the rest of your life, Lana? Even when you know there are other options out there that tasted so much better?”

I can’t help but picture it, imagine what that would be like. Cold. Thick. The texture.

Fuck. Is that what it really feels like to Ares surviving off donated blood? How the hell has he done that for all this time?

Lawrence raises an eyebrow at me as if to say, “See? That sounds awful, doesn’t it? Now you understand why I had to buy you.”

I shake my head. Nope. Still doesn’t justify it.

“I think that’s enough for today,” he says, jarring my brain at the change of conversation. “We have plenty of time together. We can ask and answer more questions later.”

And suddenly, he’s a blur. I don’t get one second to react before sharp fangs pierce my neck.

Then the numb creeps in.

My whole body relaxes.

My brain unwinds.

There’s that pulling. The sucking. The life being drained out of me.

But it’s okay.

It doesn’t hurt.

I don’t even mind.

I let my eyes close. I let my body relax. And I slip into blissful nothingness.