His Haven

Chapter 1

Avrum

Isip my wine at the foot of the grand staircase as couples draped in their fortune drift across the mosaic floor.

The gold lights of the chandelier above reflect off the jewels around their slender throats and fingers, reminding me of fireflies during hot summer nights.

They’re truly beautiful creatures with eyes that glow and bodies that move as gracefully as water.

It still amazes me that I belong to such a crowd, when only a year ago I was living on my father’s farm with little to no money to my name.

I let my lips run over the smooth glass’s rim, tasting the bitter liquid that still lingers there.

My gaze drifts across the large, circular room.

Tables with floral centerpieces line the walls and tall arch windows reflect the many flawless faces.

A group of elderly men sits against the far wall with instruments in hand, and the soothing melody of a waltz drowns out the sound of the rain outside.

Couples sway and turn about the dance floor as if pulled by strings.

Other guests make their rounds to greet friends, laughing and whispering secrets that are more than likely not meant to be spread.

But it’s part of the grandeur of it all. The spell this night possesses.

I glance at the top of the grand staircase. The two wooden doors remain tightly closed, and I sigh. Where’s Lord Henri? It isn’t like him to be late to his own party.

“You’ve done well with this fête.”

I glance to my left to see Lysander now standing there, his white-gloved hands fiddling with the gold buttons on his cuffs. Despite his words, when his heavy-lidded gray eyes finally lift to meet mine, they are filled with boredom.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” I reply with a short laugh. As droll as Lysander can be, he’s the first vampire at Greystone Manor that I came to like. Maybe it was because of his unamused attitude, no matter what the occasion. I’m really not sure.

“Extensively. Can’t you tell?” But, as expected, his face shows nothing of the sort.

“I don’t understand why you don’t care for parties, Lysander,” I say. “With all the music and company, they can be quite exciting.”

Lysander just shakes his head, causing his loose golden hair to glisten in the light. “This was my life before I came here to Birmingham,” he replies. His thick French accent clings to every word. “The women, the music, the dull repetition of it all.”

My mind whirls at the thought of such lush gatherings each night. “It must’ve been wonderful.”

Lysander tilts his chin. “For some time, yes. I suppose it was.”

Unlike Lysander, this world of luxury is still new to me. Exciting. How anyone could find it boring is lost on me.

I finish off my wine and pat my good friend on the shoulder. “Try to enjoy yourself, will you? It’s a beautiful night with beautiful company!”

“Sometimes I forget how young you still are.” He shrugs his shoulder away and sighs. “You’ll learn eventually. We all do.”

Lysander’s hard gaze and harsh words make me hesitate. Although he looks close to me in age, he’s one of the oldest creatures to live under Lord Henri’s roof. Even after a year of knowing him, I know nothing of his past; it’s something Lysander seems determined to keep to himself.

When the music ceases, my gaze swings to the top of the stairs again. Two human male servants open the doors, and a current of energy shoots down my spine, through the invisible tie I share with my maker. Henri is coming.

I bow low, excitement causing my normally settled heart to beat wild in my chest. I feel the others in the room doing the same. Lysander dips his head.

The moment Lord Henri appears, every soul in the room holds their breath.

He radiates power, elegance, and danger, all wrapped into one solitary man.

He’s dressed for the party in a perfectly tailored coal suit jacket and silver vest that somehow makes him look taller than he really is.

The white shirt beneath, though, remains unbuttoned at the neck, crafting an illusion of nonchalance and ease.

His eyes hold the truth to his nature. Piercing and as dark as the night as they sweep over all the guests below him.

Then, Henri extends his hand to the side.

A woman steps forward into the golden light, her dark chestnut curls are pinned in a cloud about her head.

Some stubborn pieces escape and frame her heart-shaped face.

Two pink lips hug each other, and a blush stains her ivory cheeks.

She’s beautiful. Beyond beautiful, and at first, I don’t recognize her. Not until I see her eyes…

Her eyes, as blue as the sapphire necklace around her throat, stare straight ahead. I’ll never forget such a striking color.

All the breath rushes out of my lungs as the realization hits. “Haven...”

“The factory girl?” Lysander gasps beside me.

My stomach drops. Did I say her name out loud? I hadn’t meant to.

Faking composure, I force myself to nod. But, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to take my eyes off of Haven. Is this the same young woman Henri found sleeping in an abandoned factory building and had brought to live with us a week ago? It seems impossible.

I had seen her that first night, her hair knotted with mud, her cloth dress soiled and torn, her face smeared with tears and dirt. But the girl at the top of the steps looks like someone else entirely. Like a royal. A duchess, maybe.

She’s absolutely beautiful.

The sweet scent of human blood hits my nose next, and my stomach clenches with a hunger I’m still not fully used to.

I grit my teeth and force myself to swallow the knot in my throat.

I hate the effect humans have on me, even after a year of being changed.

It’s a necessity for me to live, but the empathy for the person is always there, no matter how many times I feed.

It’s why I tend to stick to the blood supply Henri keeps stocked in the cellar.

Consume the blood from a glass instead of a living vein.

Of course, the taste isn’t the same, but there’s less guilt attached to it, and my conscience is too strong a force to allow anything else.

“Does she bear a family name? Her father’s name?” Lysander’s question shakes me out of my stupor.

Shaking my head clear, I glance his way. “I don’t believe so. At least Lord Henri hasn’t spoken of it.”

“Well, since she was found in the gutter, her family name must not hold any importance.”

His comment strikes me. Before Lord Henri, my family name didn’t hold much worth either. Before the fire and the death of my mother and brother, those in the Brenin family were always farmers and stable hands. There was nothing attached to my name either.

A pleased grin curls Henri’s thin lips as he links arms with Haven, revealing perfect, straight white teeth.

I stand very still, my skin prickling with heat as I watch them descend the stairs together.

Haven’s silver gown shimmers with her every move, and Henri seems pleased to have her by his side. But Haven remains timid and reserved.

Uncomfortable being in the presence of luxury? I know it took me some time to get used to.

“Avrum,” Henri begins, when they finally reach the bottom and stand before me, “what a marvelous little gathering you have thrown here.”

My chest inflates with pride and I pull back my shoulders.

Little may be an understatement since there are over a hundred guests here, but I appreciate the sentiment just the same.

“Thank you, my lord.” I glance at Haven, whose attention drops to the mosaic floor at her feet.

The swell of her full breasts rise and fall with each breath, drawing my attention to where it shouldn’t be.

A band clenches underneath her bosom, at the narrowest part of her waist, and the many folds of cloth come out and fall to the floor in elegant swoops and pickups.

Similar to the sapphire necklace that hugs her throat, an assortment of bracelets decorate both her wrists.

The jewels glitter underneath the grand chandelier.

Now, being this close to her, I can see that she’s more of a woman than a young girl. She has to be no younger than nineteen.

“Miss Haven.” I greet her with a small dip of my head.

The muscles in her jaw work as she grinds her teeth, her eyes flashing with anger. The change in her takes me aback.

“Haven, don’t be rude.” Henri’s voice is like silk as he pats her slender arm, and her body tenses.

After a long moment, she replies in a very stiff manner, “It is a pleasure to see you gentlemen again.” But it’s clear it’s not a pleasure to her at all.

Lysander chuckles, his laughter quick and false. “I’m sure it is.”

Henri gives the two of us an apologetic smile.

“Haven still isn’t used to formalities, but she is learning,” he says.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. I must make my way around to my guests and introduce them to my newest treasure.” Before he turns around to leave, he stops himself.

“Oh, Avrum. It almost slipped my mind. I’m afraid I must ask one more thing of you. ”

“Anything, my lord.”

“Since Haven is new to our family, she may still be a little confused as to how things are managed here.” Henri glances down at her with a sympathetic look. “I would like you to watch over her. Make sure she is safe.”

Something inside me flutters awake at the idea. “Yes, my lord.”

Haven’s eyes widen, and I can hear her heart race out of fear.

“She’ll be safe as long as she stays within Greystone Manor and on the grounds. I won’t have her gallivanting where she can be harmed, or lost again to England’s poverty,” Henri says.

“What?” Haven snaps at him. “Lost again?”

Her outburst catches me off guard, but Henri remains calm and collected, like always.