Chapter 39
Vampires Lair
Iwoke as a film of early morning light drifted into the room. I lay there for a long moment, staring up at the intricately painted golden edgings of the high ceiling. My head thumped. My mouth was bone-dry and tasted like acid.
I rubbed my eyes. They were burning and sore, as if all I’d seen last night had physically wounded them.
Groaning, I sat up. My bag had been bought in and was sitting by the bed.
My stomach clenched. I whipped my head around.
The bedside table was back beside the bed, the lamp back in its place.
The other chair was back beside the window.
He’d been in while I slept and I didn’t hear him, sending a message that said, ‘Don’t try and defend yourself, if I want to get you, I can. There is nothing you can do to stop me.’
I felt my temper flare. Son of a bitch.
I clambered out of bed and went to the bathroom, turning the shower on and stood under the hot jet of water.
Vampires exist. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.
The images of the vampire losing his head slammed through my mind.
The terrible tearing and bone crunching sounds, like meat through a grinder.
His eyes blinking. I jerked my eyes open and rested my forehead against the cold, hard tiles, trying to retain threads of strength.
I don’t know long I stood there for but it was long enough I began to feel faint from the heat. I climbed out and brushed my teeth.
Vampires exist. Okay, okay, get it together.
Vampires were real, yes; that was a bad thing.
He’d killed a man, yes; that was another bad thing.
But he’d also saved my life. If he hadn’t killed the man, I’d be dead.
That was a bad thing for the man, but a good thing for me.
He’d risked his life to save mine from the fires.
Definitely a good thing. He’d held me when I cried, cradled me to his chest; also a good thing.
He wasn’t all bad then? Perhaps the dark side of him was just a small part of who he was?
I spat out the foam, rinsed the toothbrush, and sat it on the vanity.
I got dressed in a navy cotton shift dress, and searched my bag until I found some running socks and a pair of white sneakers. I ran a brush through my wet hair and left hanging, still dripping, down my back. I halted at the closed door, breathing deeply, in and out, willing myself to be strong.
There are some things in life that happen, Amy and we wish with all our hearts they weren’t true. The secret to living a happy life is accepting what is, and learning to make the best of everything we have right now.’
My mother’s voice landed in my head, one of the many talks she’d bestowed on me. Sometimes I felt like she was preparing me for her death as if she knew she wouldn’t always be around . . .
I stepped into the hallway. Everything felt tight, like my chest, my back, and my legs had gained a hundred pounds.
I wondered how many vampires lived in this house, surely it was too large for one?
Voices from down stairs halted me in my tracks.
Karson’s, he was in a heated discussion with a female.
I couldn’t make out the words. I crept forward, clutching the stair rail, head cocked to the side, straining to hear—the arguing stopped.
Karson and Dahlia walked out from the room we’d sat in last night. She looked furious as she strode through the house, without so much as a glance in my direction.
“It’s useless to try and sneak up, Amelia, I will always hear you.”
His face was perfection, his teeth hidden under his pillow-soft lips. He was well dressed for at home attire. He wore black pants and a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He should scare me, terrify me, but he didn’t. Though I was definitely wary. “I wasn’t sneaking up.”
He threw an eyebrow up as I descended the last few steps.
“And if you don’t want people to hear your tirades, perhaps you should consider not shouting?”
There it was again, the slight hint of amusement in his eyes. “Breakfast is prepared, please go through.” He indicated a door next to the sitting room.
The table was the largest I’d ever seen, filled with pastries, bacon, toast and eggs. The feast looked as if it were prepared for about fifteen. Vibrant red roses blossomed from a vase in the centre.
Karson hovered in the doorway. He watched me enter as if my human movements were a sudden point of interest.
I reached for a rose. A breath before my fingers could curl around its stem Karson appeared beside me, so close, my heart kicked up a notch and bubbles rushed through my veins.
The scent of him curled up my nose. Despite the nerves, or maybe something to do with the kind of nerves rumbling through me, I felt safe.
Using his thumb to flick the thorns off the stem, catching them in the palm of his hand.
“Who would think something so beautiful could be dangerous?” he said, as he handed me the thornless rose.
The metaphor wasn’t wasted, nor was the warning. He was trying to scare me. I twirled the stem between my thumb and forefinger and shrugged. “Perhaps because it is so beautiful it needs a defence.”
“It is not only its beauty, but it is the smell of the rose that draws the predator,” he answered.
The smell, the rose, the predator?
What the fuck did that mean, was he talking about me? No, surely not, I was hardly beautiful and I’m about as dangerous as a mosquito would be to a vampire.
“Would you like some coffee, honey?” A lady interrupted. I swung back. She was older, her gray hair was pulled into a messy bun, she smiled from the doorway.
“Yes, please,” I replied, glad for her interruption.
She most definitely wasn’t a vampire. Her teeth were dentures, the permanent wrinkles that came with age creased the corners of her eyes, lips, and cheeks, and her hazel eyes were warm and kind.
She left the room as I placed the rose back in the vase.
“That’s Mary,” Karson said, moving to the end of the table. “She’s worked for me for a long time.”
“Do you drink her blood?” I whispered, angrily.
He threw me a dirty look. “No, I do not.”
At least he wasn’t a total monster. I grabbed a glass of orange juice, sculling it down. Mary came back smiling as she set the coffee pot down. I noticed an engagement ring and a well-worn wedding band on her aged, knobbly finger. I wondered if she knew what Karson was?
I poured a coffee. I thought I’d be too nervous to eat, but the emptiness of my stomach won over the mild nausea I felt. I grabbed a croissant, taking a big bite, melted chocolate floated across my tongue.
“Would you like anything else, Karson?” Mary asked.
“No, thank you, Mary.”
Mary smiled, patted his arm tenderly, and left. I pulled out a chair and sat down.
Karson sat at the end of the table, watching, not attempting to eat, just watching.
“Not hungry, Karson—have enough last night, did you?” I said, between bites.
“I didn’t, actually,” he replied condescendingly. “The night’s events ensured I was forced to leave early.”
God, his arrogance annoyed me. I curled my fingers around the handle of the coffee cup tightly and fought the urge to throw it at his smug face. “I guess the redhead should thank me then.”
“I would not hold your breath for a thank you card.”
I scoffed, “At least she’s alive to send it.”
He stiffened. “Perhaps we will talk when you are in a better mood,” he rose, turned on his heel, and strode out.
I polished off the last bite of my croissant.
Dahlia entered the room moments later. “I’m so hungry.
” She attempted to sound bright but couldn’t entirely disguise the bitterness on her face.
She lowered herself opposite, munching into a pastry.
I stared at her, this strange, tough, beautiful girl.
Why was she at The Bite? Why had she followed me?
And how did she know where I was staying?
It held the attributes of stalker status.
I took another croissant, spreading some jam over it and washed it down with a cup of coffee.
It was the proper stuff, freshly brewed, not instant.
He was a killer, drank people’s blood, and he liked good coffee.
That would make for some interesting fun facts for tinder.
I stopped eating, watching Dahlia polish off her third croissant.
“What are you, and why are you following me?” I asked, unable to withhold the questions any longer.
“I’m the same as you,” she said, avoiding eye contact as she grabbed a cup and poured some coffee. She wasn’t a vampire then, that was a relief. She added in three heaped sugars. “I will explain the why part later.”
“How did you know about vampires and why were you at The Bite?”
She stirred her coffee and glanced up. “I followed you there, and I have known about them since I was a little girl.” She wiped her mouth on a white napkin, lifting the cup to her lips, the steam misted the features of her face.
“Why did you follow me?” I asked again, unsettled.
She took a loud slurp and sat her cup down, looking mildly annoyed. “It’s a long story, I will tell you everything on the way home. In the meantime, stay away from the fanged prick.”
“He saved our lives.” I reminded her, unsure of why I felt the need to defend him.
There was a long pause as she stared at me as if taking my measure. “Vampires don’t do anything out of the goodness of their hearts, they are as coldhearted as they are cold—”
A harsh female voice came from the foyer, cutting Dahlia off. We exchanged concerned glances.