Chapter 16
Blair
Day three of being at the Slater brothers’ cabin and the first thing I notice when I wake up is the door isn’t locked. In fact, it’s cracked open.
For a long moment, I stare at it. And when I sit up, I half expect it to click shut again as if yesterday was some kind of mistake.
But it doesn’t.
Instantly, Kane’s words fill my head. I don’t want to cage you. I just want to keep you safe.
I swing my legs off the bed and stand, smoothing my hands down the borrowed oversized sweater I’m wearing.
It isn’t mine. None of this is mine. But Lord knows I wouldn’t surround myself with wood-paneled walls and plastic bathtubs by choice.
I’d also choose a different scent besides cedar and pine to assault my nostrils with on a daily freaking basis.
Vanilla, anyone? A little lavender, perhaps? Sheesh.
But when I walk into the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth, I just about trip over my feet when I spot brand-new products on the sink.
A hair dryer, a straightener, face wash, separate shampoo and conditioner and body wash, lip gloss, blush, mascara, makeup brushes…
there are so many new things, they practically take up the entire counter.
And beside the items sits a little note scribbled in very masculine handwriting.
I wasn’t sure what you needed, so I got everything I could find. I hope it helps make things more comfortable for you.
-Kane
I run my finger over two of the bottles—face moisturizer and toner.
He got me toner?
When I look up at my reflection in the mirror, I’m smiling. And when a visual of Kane’s green eyes and his full lips starts to form behind my eyes, I have to make a concerted effort not to take it any further.
This is thoughtful. It’s personal. And while the real nag about my missing suitcase with my stuff—and my doll—still thrums deep, I can’t be angry with him for trying.
I hop in the shower and then use every single product and appliance on that counter. By the time I’m finished, despite the depressing wardrobe of flannel and sweatpants, my hair is shiny and my lips are glossy and my eyes are highlighted by mascara. I almost feel like myself again.
I step into the hall, and I expect Kane to be standing guard outside the door, but a little pit of disappointment forms in my belly when he’s not.
I walk to the end of the hall, and the stairs creak under my feet as I descend to the main area below.
My eyes scan the kitchen first, and I find Rook standing behind Kylie with one hand braced on the counter near her hip.
I swear, it’s like the man doesn’t know how to exist without touching her or something.
Calloway is rinsing something in the sink.
I frown, looking around the room again.
But just before I can open my mouth to ask where Kane is, the kitchen door swings open, and he steps inside with several blocks of wood in his arms.
His eyes meet mine, and my heart skips a beat.
Stupid heart.
“Morning, Blair,” he says, a warm smile on his full lips.
“Good morning,” I greet, and for some strange reason, a surge of nerves floats around inside my belly. “So…thanks for all the…stuff.”
“You’re welcome.” He winks. And goodness, I don’t know why that wink is so sexy, but it is.
He walks past me to drop the wood near the fireplace, and his scent somehow manages to overpower the pine and cedar so much that my head swims in it. Flannel, cotton, earth, and something kind of spicy and sweet—it’s mind-blowing that I would think that combination smells good.
I mean, have you ever been to The Plaza in New York and gotten a whiff of what they’re pumping into the air there? It’s heaven.
Not quite as heavenly as Kane, though.
A half cough, half laugh escapes Kylie’s big, broody vampire man, and I glance over my shoulder to find him looking at me.
“What?” I question with narrowed eyes.
And the bastard just smiles at me. “Didn’t say anything.”
I don’t miss the way he and Kylie make goo-goo ga-ga eyes at each other, and I let out an annoyed huff as I follow Kane’s lead into the kitchen.
But when I realize I’m following him like some kind of lost puppy, I redirect myself to the kitchen table and plop down in one of the wooden chairs instead.
“Blair, do you like soup?” Kylie asks, and I look across the room to meet her eyes.
“Soup?”
“Yeah.” Kylie smiles. Goodness, she’s insanely pretty, and she doesn’t have an ounce of makeup on her face.
“Um…sure?” I shrug. “Doesn’t everyone like soup?”
“I don’t,” Kane chimes in, waggling his brows. “Never been much for food, you know?”
I laugh. I can’t help it. But then I quickly clamp my lips shut when I realize I’m having a little too much fun with him. The last thing I need is to get attached to my captor.
Yet here you are, trying to follow him around like a puppy.
Rook does that weird choking laugh thing again, and Kylie just smacks his shoulder playfully. “Stop being annoying.”
He grins at her. “Who? Me?”
“Yes, you,” she responds and presses a kiss to his lips. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to start on my gammy’s famous beef vegetable soup.” She looks at me. “Do you want to help, Blair?”
Help? As in, help? Like what maids and staff do?
I have never helped in a kitchen before. There were always people for that. Hell, I don’t even know if I’ve ever seen my mom in the actual kitchen besides when she was meal-planning with our chefs.
Kylie looks at me like she just asked the simplest question in the world, and I don’t know what else to do besides nod.
“Sure.” I shrug one shoulder. “Why the hell not. Not like there’s anything else to do around here.”
Kane laughs at my words, and I don’t hesitate to flip him the middle finger.
But it only makes him laugh more. “You’re real fucking cute when you’re feisty, Blair.”
A little thrill of excitement rolls up my spine, but I make myself ignore it. I will not catch feelings for him. I will not catch feelings for the man who kidnapped me.
Next thing I know, I’m in the kitchen, and Kylie is handing me a bowl, gesturing toward a pile of vegetables. “You can chop these.”
Chop? I stare down at the vegetables with wide eyes as I pick up the knife carefully. Besides that one fall I thought a bob was a good idea, I’ve never chopped anything in my life.
“You good?” she asks when I just keep standing there, staring down at the vegetables.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Perfect.” I blow out a breath and start my first attempt at cutting up vegetables—ever in my life.
I’m slow as shit, I’m certain of that, but I’d prefer to keep the manicure I got last week intact as long as I can.
Unless I want a squirrel to do my nails, there’s not exactly a spa right up the street.
The cabin is quiet except for the small sounds of movement and water running and raw meat sizzling when Kylie dumps it into a pan.
And I can’t deny it’s a true contrast to my life in Boston. There’s no marble or chandeliers or staff drifting through hallways.
There are just five people in one singular room—coexisting together.
I can’t remember the last time my mom and dad and Bonnie and I were all in the same room together.
The occasional dinner? Sure. But in the middle of the day?
Hell no. Even growing up, my dad was always too busy with work, and my mom always had a million and one things on her social calendar to attend.
Not to mention all the piano lessons and French lessons and whatever other thing Mom decided to sign Bonnie and me up for that kept us on the go all week long.
And yet I can’t deny that there’s something peaceful about having everyone in the same room together. It feels…calm and cozy. It feels like how things used to be when Nanny Celeste was around.
I push down memories of my childhood and refocus on slicing the vegetables, occasionally using more force than necessary.
But my eyes, they keep flitting toward the living room where Kane is adding blocks of wood to the fire, and his muscular forearms flex beneath his simple black T-shirt with each movement.
Heat flickers low in my stomach at the sight. Stop it, Blair. Stop looking at him.
I focus on the knife again.
This is adaptation. That’s all this is. You’re adjusting to survive.
Of course my body is going to seek the strongest person in the room. It’s biology. It doesn’t mean anything.
“Be careful,” Kane whispers, and I look up to find him standing right beside me. But when I follow his line of sight, I realize the knife is way too close to my fingers.
“Shit,” I mutter and pull my hand back instinctively.
But Kane doesn’t smirk, and he doesn’t make a comment at my expense. Instead, he just steps behind me and wraps his arms around me to readjust my hands’ position on the knife and cutting board.
“There ya go,” he says. “Much safer.”
That steadiness of his body calms my heart to a slow and efficient rhythm.
Goodness, why does this man have such an effect on me?
Rook walks into the kitchen and murmurs something to Kylie under his breath, and she laughs softly. He brushes his thumb across her cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
She doesn’t look controlled.
She doesn’t look owned.
She looks…connected to him. Like he’s her prince and she’s in a fairy tale. Like her entire world revolves around him. And frankly, he looks at her the exact same way.
Was she telling me the truth? Does she know more than I do? I mean, look at her. Look at how happy she looks right now…
I swallow and glance back at the cutting board.
You’re romanticizing this, I argue with myself. This is a cabin in the middle of nowhere with three blue-collar vampire men who apparently kidnap women in their free time.
This is not supposed to be my destiny.
My destiny is New York. My destiny is the blood of the three. My destiny might’ve been Damien Snow.
My mom’s voice is in my head, telling me how important the bonding night is and how lucky I am and how special I am because of my bloodline. Being chosen is an honor, she’s said more times than I can count. Being chosen is your purpose.
But then Kane’s voice is in my ear, Because you’re not just something to me, Blair. You’re fucking everything. And I don’t want to own you. I just want you to want to be mine.
My hand tightens around the knife, and my mind churns and burns with what has to be the equivalent of an existential crisis. My parents wouldn’t raise me my entire life for something monstrous…would they?
No. Absolutely not. There’s no way they would do that.
Instead of getting lost inside the minefield that is my own head, I focus on the rhythm of the room instead. There’s no tension here. No one evaluating me or measuring my posture or tone. That absence feels strange. But more than that, it feels right.
I glance at Kane again when he isn’t looking.
He’s talking to Calloway about something mundane. Supply runs. Gas mileage. Repairs. His jaw is strong. His expression focused. There’s no calculation in his eyes. No hunger.
When he looks at me, it’s not like how Damien did at the mixer.
Damien’s gaze lingered too long. It was clinical and assessing, and I didn’t feel it in the pool of my belly.
But Kane’s—
I look away before I finish that thought.
You’re rewriting things. I try to bring myself back to reality. This is what people do when they’re disoriented. You imprint on the nearest constant. It doesn’t mean he’s right. It doesn’t mean your entire life has been a lie. It just means you’re adapting.
“I’m just adapting,” I murmur under my breath.
“What?” Kane asks from across the room.
“Nothing.”
He watches me for a second longer than necessary.
And there it is again. That quiet steadiness.
I feel safest when he’s near.
The realization is like stepping on glass, and I don’t even know if it’s true.
But you do know. You can feel it. You’re drawn to him. And deep down, you believe him.
A sigh escapes my lungs. God, this is all so confusing.
But when I glance up and catch Kane watching me again, something inside me softens despite everything. He doesn’t look victorious or possessive. He looks present, and those green eyes may as well be warmth personified.
He smiles, and I…smile back. And for one long second, I wonder what it would feel like to stop fighting whatever it is I feel whenever I’m around him.
God, I just need clarity.
I need to understand what is real and what isn’t real.
I just need…answers.