25. Chapter Twenty-Five - Desiree
My cramped corner inside the vampire dormitory feels like a silk, lace, and leather storm amidst hundreds of polished mahogany coffins.
Several vampires flit about in a blur as they prepare for their nightly shift at the club.
Their chatter whirs low amidst the rustle of elaborate fabrics.
Other, more languid vampires meticulously dress for the evening’s breakfast.
Pulling on my leather mini dress, I catch snippets of several conversations about the wolves’ surprising visit last night.
Some marvel at how Alden and his friends defied ingrained preconceptions.
I think Alden’s plan for coming to Little Death was to divert attention away from himself and the Balam attack by making friends with his enemies.
Anger surges through me in response.
I never got the chance to question Alden before Vane unceremoniously threw him out.
I think he was wandering in the Nest’s tunnels to find Vyvyan so he could finish what he so callously started.
Vyvyan is the other topic of conversation in the dormitory tonight.
No one has seen her in days, and many believe she’s fallen ill.
No one knows the truth.
My empty stomach clenches with guilt.
I am directly responsible for her current situation.
If I don’t solve this case, I’ll find myself friendless and, perhaps even worse, homeless.
With a groan, I eye my reflection in the mirror, weighing if I should change as I clutch a pair of well-worn jeans.
My bare feet sink into the plush carpet, attempting to ground me amidst my racing thoughts.
Dressing to go out with an ex-boyfriend is always a delicate dance, especially when said ex might possess crucial information that could aid in my quest to find Vyvyan’s would-be killer.
Alden stays with Leigh at the palace, and Jaxson and Leigh are close.
Jaxson may have heard or learned things that could significantly benefit my investigation.
Despite everything, I can’t deny I’m also excited to spend time with Jax.
He mentioned wanting to apologize.
But for what, exactly?
Our messy past or our complicated present?
Whatever.
The dress stays.
It does wonders for my cleavage.
I grab my favorite tube of burgundy lipstick and am just about to apply it carefully when the dorm doors swing open with unnecessary force.
Vane waltzes in as if he owns the place.
I jump, smearing color across my pale face.
I curse under my breath.
He’d better not be here for me.
The last thing I need is to show up late and risk Jaxson leaving before I even get there.
As I wipe away the errant lipstick with a tissue, I can’t help but notice it’s the very same deep shade as Vane’s shirt.
I scowl.
He’s also deliberately left several buttons undone, providing a tantalizing glimpse of his sculpted chest.
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I curse myself for looking.
He’s disgustingly attractive, but so is the devil himself.
Vane managed to get under my skin last night after accusing me of essentially whoring myself out to Alden rather than focusing on helping Vyvyan.
Then, as if to drive me mad, he’d caged me against the wall, and I’d fought the overwhelming urge to kiss him senseless.
If he’s here to poke fun at me for it, I don’t want to hear it.
All over the room, the other vampires have fallen silent.
As Vane bypasses them, heading for me, eyes lock on me with varying degrees of animosity.
Red flares prick at the edges of my vision.
Vane’s presence here will only make things infinitely more complicated between Misty and me.
Vane follows my gaze, and his brow furrows.
“Leave us.”
Every vampire departs without a second glance, the echo of their footsteps fading.
“Is that what you’re wearing on your date?” Vane questions.
I snap the cap back on my lipstick.
“Are you the fashion police?”
Vane’s eyes narrow on mine in the mirror.
With every inch he closes between us, my heart pounds in a wild, erratic rhythm against my ribs, threatening to break free.
When his hands finally come to rest on my bare shoulders, the sheer heat of his touch feels like it’s searing itself into my exposed skin.
He swiftly spins me to face him, leaving me with little opportunity to react.
“Watch your tone, Desiree.” His gaze drops provocatively, sweeping over my bare feet.
“You can’t possibly leave without shoes.”
Vane rifles through my scattered belongings, presumably searching for shoes.
I glance at the ornate pocket watch on my vanity to check the time.
If I don’t leave in ten minutes, I’ll be late.
“Why are you here? Is Vyvyan okay?” I ask.
Vane examines a pair of towering platform heels before decisively setting them aside.
He analyzes my vast shoe collection with an almost unsettling intensity, as if he genuinely believes the right pair could somehow reveal the identity of Vyvyan’s attacker.
“Vyvyan’s fine.”
I purse my lips.
“Are there any new symptoms I should be aware of?”
“No.”
“So, you’re here . . . why exactly?” I ask, attempting to inject a note of defiance into my voice, despite the tremor I can’t entirely suppress.
“I came to apologize for my behavior last night,” Vane states, finally looking up from my shoe collection.
His gaze is intense, almost penitent, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to his visit than a simple apology tour.
I raise an eyebrow.
“You, apologizing? Did Hell freeze over when I wasn’t looking?”
“Here.” He rises to his full, imposing height, and holds two pairs of shoes.
“Which ones?”
I point, perhaps too eagerly, to the lace-up boots in his right hand.
The buttery-soft material practically begs to be caressed, and I can’t deny the style’s visual appeal against the backdrop of my dress.
“Great choice. Now, sit, and I’ll lace them for you.” I blink.
“Now, Desiree, unless you want to be late for your date.”
With narrowed eyes, I begrudgingly sit on an upholstered ottoman beside my bed.
Vane hands me the shoes before kneeling.
I slip one foot inside, then the other.
They are beyond comfortable, familiarly molding to my feet.
A faint scent of Misty’s favorite perfume still clings to the leather.
They were a gift from her last year.
She claimed they made her legs look short, a sacrifice I happily benefited from.
The memory sparks a small, sad smile on my face.
“Can I ask you a question?" Vane’s hands drift over my calf. As he carefully pulls the laces, his deft fingers brush against my bare skin, sending shivers up my spine that I desperately try to suppress. “Why do you want to be here, Desiree?”
My breath hitches, a strangled sound, as he expertly ties a bow at the top of my thigh, just inches beneath my skirt’s hem. Heat builds low in my core, and unbidden images flash through my mind: Vane on his knees before me, his face buried between my thighs. My pulse throbs in my throat. Vane’s lips curve into a knowing, predatory smile, as if he can taste the direction of my impure thoughts, the dark fantasies swirling beneath my carefully constructed composure.
I squint at an empty coffin across the room, trying to banish the provocative image from my mind. Vane used me, discarded me, and shattered any illusion that what we shared was ever real. Still, my cheeks continue to burn.
“This is my home,” I finally reply.
“But you had a home,” he says. “A family.”
I love my family, but being a vampire is forever. The connections I make here will last an eternity.
“So did you. I told you the night you Turned me—I want this life.”
After tying the second bow, Vane’s fingers linger. My breath stalls as his thumb traces a slow, deliberate pattern on my upper thigh, making my skin burn and tingle with a thousand tiny sparks. My thighs part unconsciously.
“Maybe after tonight, you’ll feel differently,” Vane says.
“Doubt it.”
Vane smiles, and I melt entirely. The empty dorm screams temptation. Gods, I want him— need him. It would be so easy to surrender to this ache. But his eyes are guarded, unreadable. He’s hiding something. And I can’t trust him. He’s hurt me enough.
“There’s a whole world of possibilities out there waiting to be discovered. Other Nests, other people . . . potential mates,” he murmurs, meeting my gaze.
I swallow hard, my throat tight. Why is he prodding me with suggestions to leave? While touching me, as if he cares about me? What a cruel way to mess with me. “Vyvyan,” I say, my resolve crumbling with each caress. “I’d need her permission . . .” I gasp when his fingers move higher, my cheeks flaming at his effortless power over me. Drowning in his presence, consumed by him, feels like everything I’ve ever craved. Damn him.
“You can do it. Leave tonight and never come back,” Vane insists.
Through my desire-clouded mind, one thought breaks through. “But the case?”
The change is stark, like a candle snuffed. Vane recoils. “You disappoint me, Desiree.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
Still sporting a scowl, Vane stands. The intimate moment shatters like glass. “Vyvyan will want a full play-by-play after your time with Jaxson.”
The room spins. I am such an idiot. Was that seduction a tactic? To unbalance me before I go see Jax? To control me? Or is he trying to stop me from finding Vyvyan’s killer?
The door opens and then slams shut just as suddenly.
“I forgot my gloves; one second,” calls a familiar voice. Misty appears and then halts when she sees Vane and me. I’m still seated with my thighs parted, Vane lording over me. It is and isn’t what it looks like.
For fuck’s sake. She always has the worst timing.
I stand, fearing what she’s about to assume. Vane crosses his arms with a lethal, breathtaking grace. I slide around him, rush to my jewelry box, and clutch my grandmother’s pearl studs. Their gritty texture is a balm in my shaking hand.
I slip the earrings into place. “You can tell Vyvyan I’ll be back before sunrise. Have someone meet me at the entrance,” I tell him, loud enough for Misty to hear.
Vane’s frown deepens, but he nods sharply. “Okay.” His tone is clipped and businesslike once more. “She will be pleased to know you are following orders. And I will meet you afterward.”
He’s going to pick me up from my date? “Absolutely not,” I say, but Vane has already turned his back on me. The muscles of his shoulders flex beneath the expensive dress shirt. He gives Misty a curt nod, strides past her, and leaves the dormitory.
Misty places a hand on her sequined hip. “Lover’s quarrel?”
I grab my purse. “Have a good shift,” I toss over my shoulder as I brush past her.
I told Misty there was nothing between us, yet here I am, caught with Vane. I refuse to turn and see her hatred. Vyvyan’s attacker holds the key to the Nest’s safety, which eclipses everything else tonight—even the tangled mess of Vane and Jaxson. Even my messed up relationship with Misty. Whatever the cost, I will see this case through. Everything else can wait.