Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
Feeling like the expired yogurt she’d tried to eat before throwing it in the garbage, Marisol dropped onto her couch in her apartment and tried very hard not to cry. Her home was usually her biggest comfort, warm and familiar. But it had turned empty and sterile in her short absence. The walls seemed to close in on her, the silence deafening. She’d never noticed how cold the white paint was before, how stark the furniture, how lifeless the air.
And the worst part, the most pathetic part, was that she already missed them. Missed spending time with Zuri in the greenhouse, talking and learning. Missed the way Elena made her feel so fiercely protected. Missed being tangled up in them beneath Zuri’s sheets. Missed the smell of their skin and the warmth of their arms. Maybe she shouldn’t have insisted on leaving on her own.
Covering her face with a throw pillow, Marisol refused to release the scream pushing at her throat. It was so useless to feel this way. She didn’t belong with them for a thousand reasons, and that was before she factored in that they weren’t even the same kind. Even though that didn’t seem to bother them, and Marisol didn’t know enough to know whether it mattered.
A knock at the door stopped her spiraling. Heart pounding, she shot to her feet. Adrenaline, sharp and cold, jolted her awake. She hadn’t heard footsteps—the sound seemed to rise out of the silence itself. A vampire?
Zuri’s warning echoed in her mind: “I can’t promise you that you’ll be safe out there.”
Her gaze darted to the door—cheap wood, barely a barrier against the unknown. Would she be safe if she didn’t invite him in? She didn’t know the rules, didn’t know anything. She should’ve asked Zuri more questions instead of wasting time on trivial things.
God, I’m so stupid.
The knock came again, louder, more insistent. If not inviting him were enough, Zuri wouldn’t need all her creepy wards. Her eyes flicked to the circle of sticks and pouches hung by the door. What if the ward didn’t hold?
Glad you had the best sex of your life, because now you’re going to die.
Panic clawed at her throat. She had to do something. Run? Hide? Call the police? The thought was absurd. What would she say? She eyed the window, wondering if she’d break both legs jumping from three stories up.
“Bambi, if you don’t open this damn door I swear.” Zuri’s voice, clear and sure, filled Marisol with so much relief she almost dropped to the couch as the fear fled her body. She leapt to the door instead, crossing the modest living room in five long strides and throwing the door open.
They were standing together in her doorway. Elena was dressed in a sexy white vest that hugged her chest and waist even closer than Marisol’s hands had. Next to her, Zuri was unbelievable in a neon dress that might actually be body paint.
Marisol’s heart stopped. Her words failed her. Her lungs failed her. She’d already felt out of their league when they were all alike with messy ponytails and Zuri’s T-shirts. Now, she wasn’t sure there was a term for how far from their realm she was.
“What are you doing here?” Marisol finally managed, mouth dry and pulse racing.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Elena dropped her voice while her gaze dripped down Marisol’s body like she wasn’t wearing a faded shirt and old running shorts. Like she had dressed for the same glamorous party they were going to. “We’re here for you,” she added like a threat or promise. Marisol wasn’t sure, but she was also sure she didn’t care.
“Get dressed,” Zuri said in her gentlest demanding tone because her bossiness had degrees.
Without waiting for an invitation, Elena strode into her apartment like she’d been there a hundred times before. Marisol moved aside, expecting Zuri to follow.
“Really? No cat, huh?” Zuri glanced around her apartment, bright brown eyes searching before she finally stepped inside.
Laughing to dissolve the strange, nervous energy building inside of her, Marisol shook her head. “Still no cat.”
Zuri picked up a picture frame from the little table near the door where Marisol dropped junk mail and her keys and whatever random stuff she’d walked in with after a shift. The photo was one of her favorites. Her grandmother, barely past her teen years, holding a machete and standing under a shade tree. She’d never been to the Cuban farm where her grandmother had grown up, but she’d told her so many stories about it, she could probably recognize it on sight. The sepia toned image was old and faded, but her grandmother’s stories replayed in Marisol’s mind in vivid high-definition.
“She was really beautiful,” Zuri said softly.
It should have been strange that Zuri knew what her grandmother looked like from her memories, but instead, it was comforting. With no family, Marisol didn’t have anyone to share her memories with, no one who knew what the woman had been like. But Zuri knew—at least as much as Marisol did.
Zuri glanced up at her before setting the frame down. “And pretty badass.” The corner of her lip cracked into a momentary smile. “I hear sugarcane is a pain in the ass to cut down.”
Before she could ask how Zuri knew what her grandmother had been doing when the picture was taken, Elena strode into the living room with a simple black dress on a hanger.
“You can wear this,” she declared, holding out the mid-length, short-sleeved dress.
“I got that for a funeral,” Marisol protested. “And where are we even going? Aren’t you supposed to be lying low?” She scanned Elena’s body. “This isn’t exactly?—”
“New plan, babe.” Elena continued toward her and handed her the dress. “Change or I’ll take you out exactly like that.”
Marisol looked down at herself again like magical mice might have turned her laundry-day outfit into a dress while she was distracted. Nope, still in her baggy comfort clothes. “Out where?”
“You’ll see,” Elena replied with a little grin. “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder and carry you out. It’s not my favorite look, but I’m not above it.”
“She’s not kidding,” Zuri said from where she was looking at more photos on the window ledge. “Better hurry.”
Marisol knew she shouldn’t be giddy about being told what to do. That part she could honestly do without, but the prospect of being back in their orbit was revitalizing.
“I’m not wearing the funeral dress,” Marisol said when she snatched it out of Elena’s hands.
Glad that she’d already showered, she darted to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. There was no way she was going to match their gloss with what she had in her closet, but she knew how to throw a little something together.
After ironing her hair straight and then slicking it back like she’d seen Kate Winslet do once, she painted on dark eyeshadow that brought out the green in her hazel eyes. From the back of a drawer she hadn’t opened in forever, she pulled an emerald green jumpsuit. She’d bought it on a whim when she was feeling fashionable, but never had the confidence to wear it. Still not sure she could pull it off, she decided a big swing was better than a boring black dress.
Slipping into disappointingly functional black heels because she only owned the one pair, she checked herself out in the mirror. It wasn’t terrible, she had to admit. At least she didn’t look like Elena and Zuri’s assistant.
Arming herself with the confidence she so desperately wanted to feel, she did her best to saunter into the living room. Elena looked up from her phone from where she was leaning against the kitchen counter and Zuri stopped inspecting her fridge.
“You’re stunning,” Elena said without hesitation, phone disappearing into the pocket of her white trousers. “Much better than the dead guy dress,” she conceded.
“Fucking hell, Bambi.” Zuri smiled, letting the fridge door slip from her fingers and close with a muffled thud.
“Anyone going to tell me where we’re going now?” Marisol rested her hands on her hips where the material of her pants was loose. The bottom was a nice contrast to the tight material of the strapless top. She wished she had bigger boobs, but her cleavage was propped up nicely. It was the best she could do without a strapless pushup bra. She’d be ordering one of those immediately.
“You’ll see in a few minutes,” Elena said before offering her arm like a gentleman, even though her hungry gaze was anything but chivalrous.
Satisfied that she’d accomplished her goal, Marisol slipped her arm in Elena’s. Outside Marisol’s boring little apartment building a few miles from the hospital was a sea of black SUVs surrounding a gunmetal Bentley.
As they approached, a tall, terrifying brunette with eyes too close to maroon to be human pulled open the back passenger door. A small blonde who looked barely old enough to drive stood near the trunk, her gaze sweeping the surroundings like she was searching for snipers.
“Jesus,” Marisol breathed. It took all of her willpower to keep her legs moving. To get closer to the two women waiting at the car when her instincts screamed at her to get back inside and barricade the door. Even though they weren’t looking at her, Marisol got the impression they were sizing her up. Debating whether she was a threat.
Despite knowing that Elena was a vampire, she’d never really been afraid of her. Never felt like she was in danger. Elena was a sheathed dagger. These two gave her a blade-to-her-throat vibe. It made her question whether she was as delusional as the guy who thought living with grizzly bears was a fantastic idea.
“Be glad I convinced her to bring this ridiculous car, or you would have had to curl up on the floor of her tiny-dick-mobile,” Zuri joked, walking toward the car that cost several years of Marisol’s salary. She didn’t seem at all bothered by the terrifying women they were getting in a car with.
“She could have sat in your lap,” Elena shot back with an eyebrow wiggle.
Zuri moistened her lips before her warm gaze ignited Marisol’s body where it landed, making her forget the vampires getting into the front seats. Making her reweigh the scenario and decide to risk her life for another night with them.
“If only you’d suggested it earlier,” Zuri said in a tone that made Marisol wonder if she was joking—made her hope she wasn’t. The thought was exhilarating. She imagined some exotic convertible, picturing Elena driving too fast and Zuri’s arms around her waist while she sat in her lap.
Without discussing it, Marisol slipped into the long, white leather bench seat in the back first. Elena took the seat to her right and Zuri her left. It was strange how right it felt to be nestled between them. To know that she could curl her wings around them if she needed to—even if she couldn’t call on them at will. But she was sure her instinct would respond if they were threatened. That she’d protect them.
The drive to a man made island floating in Biscayne Bay between the mainland and Miami Beach was a blur. Marisol had driven by the exclusive islands only the ultra-rich could afford a thousand times while heading to the beach, but she’d never imagined crossing the imposing gates.
Following the only street that must have made a loop around the small island, they stopped at another set of gates. The massive solid metal structure reminded Marisol of a modern castle. The SUVs traveled ahead and behind them like their own calvary.
Behind the high walls, Marisol was almost expecting a gator-filled moat. Instead, it was a cleanly landscaped estate. On one side, people worked under massive flood lights in the dark to build a huge greenhouse. For Zuri, Marisol was sure.
“You’re so extra,” Zuri said with a sigh. “I’m not moving in here.”
“Okay,” Elena said with a shrug. “I bought a condo downtown if you like that better.”
Marisol’s eyes widened as they approached the sprawling modern mansion the size of her high school. How much money could one person possibly have?
“I’m definitely not staying?—”
Elena didn’t let Zuri finish. “The building has one unit per floor. You can have one to yourself if you’re going to be a brat about it.” She glanced at Marisol. “Do you want your own floor, too? Or do you want to share with me?” She flashed a wicked grin.
Marisol didn’t have a response. How could she? She barely understood what she was even offering.
“Like I’m leaving her alone with you,” Zuri responded before Marisol could. “She isn’t going to fall victim to your corruption.”
“Gods, I love it when you’re jealous.” Elena’s grin didn’t waver. “I’m nothing if not generous. We can see both. Then you decide what you like.”
Marisol opened her mouth and closed it again.
“Don’t worry.” Elena slipped her hand between Marisol’s thighs. “All your earthly belongings are being collected as we speak. They’ll be delivered wherever you want to go.”
Turning to Zuri for some kind of guidance, all Marisol got was an eye roll.
“She does this,” Zuri said, like all of this extravagance was boring. “She so very much wants to impress you.” She smirked, dark eyes dazzling. “Don’t let her.”
Wide-eyed, Marisol wasn’t sure how the hell she was supposed to do that.