Chapter 14
FRANK N. STEIN
My hands clench at my sides, the energy coursing through them so high it would incapacitate anyone who dared to get close when arcing with this intensity as I stand inside a cage of my own design, a massive metal pod built to fit my frame.
Volatile, magical, and wrong, the electrical pulses within me can range from excruciatingly painful to almost pleasurable depending on my emotional state, the energy siphoned as an electrical byproduct because of what I am.
The pod is the only machine in creation of its kind that can handle the current and voltage I produce.
“Infuriating female,” I say aloud, knowing no one will hear.
No other being is within earshot as far underground as I am, and the cocooned metal pod is damn near impenetrable when closed.
It sits under the mansion, the room embedded in rock and only has two entrances, one hidden in my manor and the other in Jekyll’s mansion, with a small train connecting the two that travels within minutes to each.
A veritable fortress in the guise of a humble manor, all for show.
One that isn’t as necessary as we had once thought in the early days, especially since creating a village around the two compounds. Slowly more supernatural have come to live beyond our walls, and now it’s being polluted by a human. It rankles, even as delectable as she is.
She brought me to my knees with only her mouth.
An alarm sounds and I clench my teeth, bringing the voltage I’m outputting to a more sustainable level for the machine.
“Bloody hell,” I mutter, and glance out the large oval window as steam sprays across the contraption, allowing the device to cool itself as needed.
Fashioned from a rare metal that can contract and bend without breaking, the pod absorbs the energy I generate inside of it and then sends it through a series of cables that effectively store the electricity for later use by running in a residual current around the complex.
I close my eyes and attempt to relax as I go back to my task, pushing thoughts of the vexing female away.
Pressure valves hiss, and the massive network of cables and hoses around the room hum as they fill with electricity, seemingly groaning as I exert my will and push it towards the underground cable lines.
Despite its billion-dollar price tag, it still requires much skill to operate.
Yet, no other being has the ability to collect and store energy this way, one that helps the ghouls and supernatural community overhead flourish and prosper.
Humans harness electricity and convert it into different energy sources, but collecting and holding an energy source in one place has proved impossible to them. For me, it’s just another Tuesday.
Except I have never experienced the energy levels like these.
Whistles blow and steam surges over the pod like it has done all night.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter to myself, the sound reverberating around the insulating walls and fading away. My body is betraying me with my temper is the only reason I can come up with as to why my power is acting this way.
Not a soul could hear me above stairs were I to shout. I could crush the floor to ceiling contraption and never return. And the idea has merit, especially after being publicly affianced to a criminal.
But what a criminal.
Her sharp intellect and self-assured demeanor are undeniably captivating, as her quick-witted tongue. She has a quick mind and uses it to get what she wants, something I admire.
And at least with last night’s ministrations, I’ve finally found a way to appropriately exhaust that mouth of hers.
It was clear the second she attempted to saunter off my lap that she had gotten what she wanted from me. And now is my turn to get what I want from her.
The machine valves whistling comes to a stop, shrinking to a soft hush with my control.
Today, I will use her intellect. If she is to be a thorn in my backside for the time being, I might as well put her skills to good use.
Far too chaotic to be kept at the penthouse, were Mikael’s words. He insisted we need her alive, even as we knew she would attempt to force her way into my office, we gave her every opportunity to do so, assuming she would take the opportunity to contact her handler.
She surprised us all by accessing the Talbot mainframe without attempting to communicate with anyone.
Like a greedy magpie on the scent of gold, she nestled into the database in less than five minutes, leaving my cyber security team flushing with embarrassment at how easily she overran our own security.
If anyone else knew, she would already be in the ground, no matter how much Mikael would whine at the loss.
He seems to think she is somehow important, integral, he said, wanting to use her skills somehow to hack into a specific cloud that I haven’t researched well enough yet.
The fact that he sings her praises still after what she’s done sets me on edge.
The infuriating female donated to the city and announced our engagement in the same breath, something I’d never think to anticipate. It’s almost infantile, but rather brilliant.
Clever girl.
I shut my gaze and the arcing light flashing inside the pod reminds me of how the cameras had flashed on the street.
She is going to pay for every second of mischief she has caused.
And I can think of several different ways how.
After I shed off this extra current that seems to have built up overnight, there are several other things that need my attention, none of which have to do with the irritating female.
No matter how pleasurable her mouth is.
Finally, I sense where the static pool of energy within me begins to subside and allow myself to relax. 9 a.m. can’t come soon enough.
BERNADETTE CRENSHAW
“Well, Mr. Stein, you have one hell of a view,” I mutter, blowing the steam off my cup of coffee as I stare out at the sunrise.
A light breeze teases at my unruly red hair, and I shove a strand of it behind my ear, leaning a hip against the balcony railing overlooking one side of the mansion.
The stone wraps around part of the place with ivy crawling one edge, and the picturesque hillside makes it feel like something out of a fairytale.
When the limo was making its way up the long drive to Frank’s house yesterday, I noticed the balcony straight away and knew I’d be hanging out here eventually if given the chance.
I just didn’t know how soon, but if Frankie boy thinks he’s going to make demands, he’s got another thing coming.
His edict that I meet him in the dining room at such an ungodly hour means I found my way here at the butt crack of dawn.
If he really wants me awake anywhere near that early he’ll learn he has to keep me in his bed, which will never happen.
I scratch idly at my hip as I soak in the sunshine and send a quick blessing to whoever left the pair of blue sweatpants in my new room.
I searched through two empty dressers before finding a wardrobe with them stashed.
I’ve no desire to be inside when he starts yelling my name, and the pair I put on three days ago were definitely worse for wear.
I refuse to bend to that man’s will, and it’s clear as day he’s never had anyone get under his skin the way I know I can.
He needs me, the poor unruffled asshole.
I take a sip of my beautifully caffeinated brew from a coffee mug I found in the kitchen cupboards during my scrounging earlier, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. “That’s the stuff.”
When I open my gaze, I notice box-shaped buildings in the distance, past a lot of rolling hills. Hmm.
I eye the roof, and figure it’s not too steep to walk and will give me a way better vantage point. What all goodies is Frank Stein hiding at his crib? The mind boggles at what things one of the richest men in the world would buy.
Decision made, I put down my mug on the stone edge of the balcony and turn toward the roof. It should be short work to make it to the top, and it will be much easier to explore this place.
I grab at the roof hands first and walk up the pitch on all fours, the new shoes I found in my wardrobe gripping the shingles easily as I make my way to the top. Once I reach the peak, I squat and plop my butt down on the roof’s apex.
“Wow,” I murmur, the scenery before me breathtakingly beautiful.
The view wouldn’t look out of place in any lawn or garden magazine.
Willow trees laze at the back of the house near a picturesque pond, and a large greenhouse sits in the distance surrounded by flowers, the sunlight’s rays beaming off the glass. Holy cow.
It feels like a step back in time, like someone copied an old British estate straight out of a romance like one Jane Austen would write and slapped it right here in the middle of New York.
A huge tin roof gleams under the sun's pink rays in the distance. I wonder if Frank keeps horses.
I grip the stone railing and crane my neck to see what looks like a red and white canopy, like one you would see at a circus or a fair even further.
Cupping a hand over my gaze and squinting in the sunlight, I can just make out another round blue tent near the large red and white one.
What is that? A fair?
“What the fuck are you doing up there?” Comes a shout from below that almost sends me slipping across the roof.
My stomach jumps into my throat and adrenaline sends my heart racing at the near fall.
“Get down this instant,” Frank shouts again, and I crane my neck to see him a good twenty feet below, practically blowing smoke from his nostrils with how angry he is.
It looks like Mr. Stein finally found his emotions. I inwardly smirk and shake my head down at him, pursing my lips together as I plant my hands on my hips, keeping my balance easily.
He stands there with a rough scowl on his face, in a gray shirt and god help me, gray sweatpants.
“Sightseeing, what else,” I say, and wave happily down at him, “Good morning to you too Mr. Stein.”