49. A Plan to Make the Hot Guy Jealous
49
A Plan to Make the Hot Guy Jealous
You
You should be afraid.
Probably.
There’s something that should feel sinister about the way this man smiles, the way he’s asking that, yet—yet you feel oddly relaxed.
Almost entranced.
Hang on. You’re not actually entranced, are you?
The strange, handsome man smiles softly, watching your expression, as if he’s perceiving all your concerns right there on your face.
He’s got dark hair and eyes, and he’s wearing a deep gray suit with a black tie, gray vest, and a scarlet shirt that matches the decor of the establishment around you. He’s even got a matching red handkerchief folded elegantly so that it protrudes from his suit pocket in a silken triangle.
What a strange, strangely well-dressed man.
“What is this place?” you blurt, and he laughs, a smile twitching at one side of his lips.
“Straight to the point,” he says. “I like that.”
Uncrossing his legs, he stands, bowing slightly in an old-fashioned manner as he offers you his hand to shake.
“Welcome to The Crimson Palace. I am Malcolm, and I am the proprietor of this fine establishment.”
His grip is firm and his hand warm, but you can’t help but feel a chill as you shake.
There’s something about the way he smiles that makes you think vampire , though you can’t get a good look at the points of his teeth.
And just because his hand is warm doesn’t mean he can’t be a vampire.
After all, Ziros’ hand was plenty warm.
Ziros . Just thinking his name sends another twisting pang of loss shooting through you.
Malcolm frowns, pulling his hand back. “You’re looking for something.”
You flinch.
“How did you know that?”
“How?” His smile arches slightly into a subtle smirk. “Why, it is perfectly obvious. I know you are a sorceress. I know you have a magical sword tucked in your pocket, and I know you are searching for something—or someone—you have lost. Something important to you. And…” He pauses, watching your face before adding, “And I know you need money. Perhaps we can help each other.”
You shiver, keenly aware that you should be afraid, yet unable to make yourself turn around and leave.
Not yet.
Not when he’s clearly not a normal person.
No normal person would find all those details obvious, even if somehow they knew about magic. He must have some sort of sixth sense about him.
Maybe that means he can help you locate Ziros.
“What exactly are you proposing?” you ask, feeling like you’ve just taken some sort of bait.
He smiles. Not a predatory smile, but a smile of someone who is keen on good business. Although perhaps those two things are more often the same than they are not.
“I’m glad you asked. Please,” he gestures to a set of crimson upholstered chairs beside a warmly glowing lamp on a sleek, black metal stand. “Have a seat.”
You sit down as instructed, hoping you’re not making a mistake.
Every moment you stay feels like you’re tangling yourself further in a spider’s web, and yet…and yet you can’t bring yourself to want to leave.
Not yet.
Not until you find out what this strange man is proposing.
Malcolm leans back in his chair.
“The Crimson Palace is, as you may have guessed, a rather unique establishment.” He pauses to watch your expression. “Our guests prefer something deeper than wine.”
“Deeper than wine?” You shiver.
You’ve got a bad feeling you might already know what that means.
What kind of establishment this place is.
Leaning forward slightly, he lowers his voice and says, “ Blood , my dear sorceress. The Crimson Palace prides itself on serving only the highest-caliber clients the most premium of crimson wine .”
Before you can stop yourself, you blurt, “Like…a blood brothel!?”
Malcolm frowns. “That is quite a vulgar term for it.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God! It’s a brothel!” You stand up, pushing back from the chair. “I should have known.”
You’re half-expecting Malcolm to stop you, for his eyes to glow bright red and for darkness to rush around the room, maybe for a cloud of bats to emerge from the rafters in sudden, screeching anger—or for any other number of scary things to happen.
But Malcolm only laughs, still sitting calmly, watching serenely as you stand.
Soft tunes of classical piano drift from the hidden speakers somewhere above.
“You react as many do. But before you go, know this: Everything that goes on beneath this roof is entirely consensual. In fact, most find it highly pleasurable.”
You blush, trying not to remember all your, uh, experiences with Ziros, just in case this Malcolm guy can actually read minds or something.
There’s no denying that it felt good, but…it’s not like you set out looking for strangers to drink your blood.
“Sorry,” you say, turning for the door. Hoping you won’t find yourself locked-in. “I think I’m going to have to pass.”
“I won’t stop you if you choose to leave,” Malcolm says without getting up. With a wave at the door, he says, “Go ahead. It’s open.”
Can this dude actually read minds or something? Because right now it’s sure feeling that way.
You vow to keep your thoughts in check just in case, grabbing the door handle—and to your relief, he’s not lying.
It really is open.
“Have a good night,” you bid with a tone of finality as you start through. “Thank you for the offer.”
Just before you can leave, you hear him say, “ Wait .”
You pause.
Once again, just like when you walked in and when you visited that strange, magical bookshop where you found the book Ziros was trapped in, you find yourself pinned by curiosity.
There’s that sensation that you should leave, yet you can’t seem to bring yourself to.
Instead, you turn around, one hand still on the open door.
“Yes?”
Malcolm smiles that serene, unreadable smile.
“I have a proposal to make you, sorceress.” He flashes you a glinting, pointed-teeth grin. “If you agree to offer your services, I can offer you mine. I am, you see, very gifted at finding out information. Information, which I sense you greatly desire.”
You freeze.
How does he know?
Is he seriously reading your mind?
You turn slowly, and his face breaks into a triumphant smile, like he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants.
“What exactly are these services you’re asking for?”
“Your blood, of course,” he says simply, and you suppose you could have guessed that. “I can sense great power in you, sorceress, power that many would pay a high price to taste.”
You gulp, swallowing hard.
This feels like a bad idea.
Like a very bad idea.
For some reason, you feel like a little bug caught in a spider’s web.
And yet…
Yet you find yourself letting go of the door handle, taking a step back toward the seating area.
Malcolm’s smile deepens as you approach. “I sense that the one you’re searching for is the very jealous type.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means…” his expression slackens, eyes going distant. As if he’s seeing something only he can. “I sense you have a deep bond. A blood bond. A bond of magic and love…but he left you, and you feel betrayed. You want him back, but don’t know how to find him.”
He’s right, but you only processed about half of what he said.
Your brain is stuck on one word: love.
Love!?
You can’t help but remember the heat of the moment.
And you blush, realizing you were moments from saying you love him.
But you’d stopped yourself.
And now…now Ziros is gone.
There’s no way he could possibly feel the same way, is there?
Malcolm smiles triumphantly, as if he can read on your face exactly how correct his words were.
“You see, once such a deep blood bond has been established, if you allow yourself to be bitten by another…” he trails off, watching your face or perhaps reading you in some other way— sensing things no normal person can.
“Are you trying to imply I can make him jealous?”
Malcolm leans back in his chair. “So I was correct. There is a he .”
“Yes,” you mumble, blushing.
“Very good. Then I have an offer for you. Would you like to make him jealous?” He leans forward again, folding his hands in his lap. “Because I can help you get him back, help you find him, and I can offer you whatever price you require. All I require as payment is that you return tomorrow at midnight. And I will have a customer for you.”
You swallow hard.
Are you seriously considering going through with this?
Do you even want to make Ziros jealous? You can’t help but imagine him bursting in and throwing some other vampire off you, hauling you out in his arms with all the fury of a protective book boyfriend.
Okay, so maybe that’s oddly a little hot…
But just in case this Malcolm guy is actually psychic, you push that thought out of your mind, focusing instead on the other part of his offer as you ask, “So…how much are we talking?”
“Money?” He smiles. “A thousand, perhaps. Two?”
“…dollars?”
Malcolm laughs. “Yes. Unless there is some other currency you prefer.”
“No, no,” you say, waving your hands quickly in the air. “Dollars are fine. Great, actually. Dollars are great.”
That’s more than enough to make up for your missing rent.
And with your bottom-tier wage at the cafe, that much money represents hours and hours you won’t have to toil away facing annoying customers.
Not that you hate your job or anything.
You actually don’t mind it, most of the time.
But…
But your job is still customer service, and customer service isn’t exactly always fun.
And this is awfully tempting.
“I won’t get turned into a vampire or anything?” You ask, just to be sure, even though you’re pretty sure Ziros said that’s not how it works. “Or, like, catch a disease?”
Malcolm shakes his head. “Why everyone thinks they’ll be turned is beyond me. I blame Hollywood. But no. No, that will not happen. Rest assured, your safety, and that of everyone in my establishment is my top priority.”
“Oh.”
“And I can already think of one or two customers of mine who would possibly pay even more than what I just suggested. So we can consider that the minimum. With potential for bonuses.”
You stare at Malcolm.
This all feels surreal.
Is this a dream?
“I assure you, this is not a dream.”
You blink at him. “You just read my mind!”
“Ha. No.” He reaches for the side table, sipping slowly from a drink you don’t remember being there. “I simply have second-sight. There are certain things I can sense, but not others. It’s a rather rare but prized gift among our kind, you know.”
“ Our kind?” You stare at him. “Aren’t you a vampire?”
“I am half vampire, half-sorcerer myself. How do you think I sensed everything about you so keenly?”
“Oh.”
You glance at the windows, but it’s hard to tell what time it is through the tinted glass.
“If you need time to think about it—”
“No,” you say, standing. And before you can change your mind, before you can stop to think, you blurt, “I’ll do it.”
Wait, what?
That’s right.
It’s too good of an offer to refuse.
Malcolm arches an eyebrow, but his smile is serene and knowing, as if he’d already expected you to say as much.
“Very good. Then I will see you tomorrow at midnight. Please dress accordingly.”
He stands, walking you to the door.
You pause at the threshold, classical piano drifting from the speakers. “How will I find this place?”
“Oh…you’ll find it.” He pulls an elegant black-and-red business card from his suit pocket. “But just in case, take this.”
As soon as you step out the door, you blink, looking back, but The Crimson Palace is nowhere to be seen.
Ziros
—The Next Day at Dawn—
When I wake up, I’m lying on my back in the dark in a puddle of mud. Soaked. Water dripping down my face from my hair.
The first rays of sun crack over the edge of the horizon, illuminating just how much of a bastard I am.
There’s nothing but a path of torn-up soil far as the eye can see.
In the distance, sirens wail, and I lay my head back, groaning.
I’ve got a real bad feeling.
And not just about the destruction I’ve caused.
I don’t know what it is, but I feel like I’m forgetting something.
Like there was something important.
Someone?
Nah, that can’t be. I’ve always made it a point not to get attached.
I’m wild.
Uncontrollable.
And that’s just the way I like it.
I lift my hands, power rushing around me. Damn , it feels good to be free.
But why…
Why do I still feel like something is missing?
You
All through the next day, you try to tell yourself everything is going to be okay.
That this agreement is perfect.
After all, what’s a little consensual blood drinking between adults?
It might even feel good .
And it’s not like you’re…exclusive to Ziros or something.
Heck, he left . He left you with no way to contact him, no way to know if he ever plans to come back.
Jerk.
It feels petty, but maybe a small part of you actually likes the idea of making him jealous
You smile to yourself at that idea as you cook dinner, then take a shower and dress.
All the while, feeling a little crazy.
Is this a terrible, bad, awful idea?
Maybe.
Probably.
Definitely.
Yet as you pull on a little red dress that will match The Crimson Palace’s aesthetic perfectly, you can’t help but smile softly to yourself.
Malcolm is going to help you find Ziros.
All you have to do is let someone drink a little of your blood.
No big deal.
At precisely midnight, you arrive back at The Crimson Palace.
You try not to think too hard about what you’re doing as you step inside, greeted this time by the sultry tunes of low jazz music.
The club is busy now, with couples seated in booths throughout the room, drinking sparkling beverages from champagne glasses.
At least… some of them are drinking champagne.
You blush, feeling like you’re witnessing something private as you try not to look at the couple in the nearest booth, one moaning as the other drinks.
Not champagne.
“Welcome back,” Malcolm says, appearing at your side as you walk in. “Please, right this way.”
He’s just as well-dressed as yesterday.
Before you can change your mind and turn back, he leads you toward the door at the back labeled VIP .
Not to one of the public booths or tables?
Somehow that might have felt…safer, though you imagine it also would have left you feeling a bit watched.
Through the VIP door is a long hallway of numbered doors, and Malcolm opens the farthest one, gesturing you through.
To your relief yet also apprehension, there’s no one inside.
Yet.
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Malcolm says as he shuts you in. “Your client will be along shortly.”
As the door clicks shut, you gulp, swallowing hard.
What have you just got yourself into?
But you’re not left waiting long. You barely have a chance to settle into a gleaming black chaise when the door swings open.
“So we meet again at last,” says a low voice, and you whip back to find yourself staring up into a surprisingly familiar face as the door shuts.
A handsome face.
But not Ziros.
It’s the blond vampire from the rooftop party.
“What do you say,” he asks, taking your jaw in one hand as he smirks, pulling you up to stand in front of him. “Shall we begin?”
You swallow hard, heat rushing to your face.
A part of you isn’t not interested, but another part of you somehow feels oddly like you’re cheating, even though you’re doing all this to try to get Ziros back.
And, besides, you can’t exactly back out now.
Not when you’ve already agreed.
Can you?
You’re not even sure you want to.
But as the blond vampire leans in, all you can picture is Ziros’ face.
And for one fleeting moment, you swear you almost hear Ziros’ voice ringing in your head, a low growl that asks, What the hell are you doing, human?