Chapter 25
Oliver juggled the pans on the stove, then checked inside the oven. His roasted vegetables were crisping up beautifully. He huffed out a sigh of relief, ruffled a hand through his hair.
Gods, it had been a long time since he’d cooked dinner for a guest. He’d forgotten how many components were involved.
When he’d first joined the police force, in the golden days of his career, he’d often entertained colleagues. He’d even cooked meals for the occasional fae he’d dated, but then they’d started viewing him as potential husband material, so he’d stopped. No way that was ever going to happen.
But now, with Clare due to arrive at any minute, he was nervous as a kitten.
Focus, man.
As he went to the fridge and brought out the beautifully marbled steaks, he forced his brain to return to a logical analysis of the situation.
Clearly, this was more than a missing humans case. It was a threat to monsters and humans alike. How had the damn Kominsky clan managed to manifest powers that no other vampires ever had? Gods, if his own family had been able to harness invisibility, none of them would have died.
He shook himself. No, he couldn’t think like that. The past was gone. What was done could not be undone.
But they could do their best to fix what was happening now.
Was Emmaline the human link? Was she Matteus’s companion? And clearly Quentin Jordak was involved. What had Matteus promised them? Eternal life? Ha, he could vouch it wasn’t worth it.
But whatever the bribe, they had somehow also worked out that Clare’s blood was needed to keep their hideous dimension functioning. He was sure of that.
He stared at the steaks laid out in front of him, red and juicy, and a shudder ran over his scalp and down his spine, fear for her safety hitting with renewed force.
He went over the plan in his head.
Tonight after he drank Clare’s blood, he would fly to the Dark Dimension.
Night-time was when vampires indulged in ceremonies and blood gorging, he knew that much from bitter experience.
Under cover of darkness, he would have a better chance of dodging the grimaald guards, getting past those walls to the palace behind and finding out if it those poor humans were being gorged on.
And at least while he was gone, Clare would be safe in his home.
But right now, if he didn’t get his act together, there would be no food on the table.
Quickly, he salted and peppered the steaks. Tossed the salad leaves with a light dressing.
And then he took the stairs two at a time to his bedroom suite, overlooking Motham City in the glow of evening. Showered, changed into his best shirt and casual slacks.
Splashed on a dash of his cologne.
After he’d dressed, he pulled down the sleeves of his white shirt and adjusted the silver ring on his finger.
Glancing at it, his heart clenched; he remembered his father wearing it.
This ring had been in his family for centuries.
His grandfather had given it to his father as a blessing for a new life.
Oliver winced. It was the only thing he had salvaged from the burning remains of his home and family.
It had shone brightly in among the smoldering debris, as if calling to him.
He’d grabbed it and fled. Hidden it away and refused to wear it through those dark days of addiction.
Wearing it would have been like betraying his father.
When he finally sorted out his life and became a detective, he’d slid it back onto his finger on his very first day at work.
Feeling, at last, that he deserved to wear the Hale crest.
Now he slicked back his thick silver hair and spruced his beard, adjusted the collar of his shirt. Smiled at his reflection.
At least his fangs hadn’t lengthened. He put that down to the fact that he had rigorously stopped himself from thinking about Clare’s blood, her smile, her beautiful body.
Hopefully he could keep the damn things under control until the time came.
As for his cock. Hell, his libido was so fired up he really had no idea if he could contain it.
His ears pricked suddenly as voices drifted up the stairwell from the hallway.
Gods, he’d never felt so nervous dating. Sure, he was fucking rusty on that front, but these were next-level nerves.
Back up the truck! You are not dating. This is work.
Stop trying to deny it, you fool. You’re in love with her.
With a muffled curse, but a tiny smirk playing around his lips, he headed out of the room and down the ornate staircase to welcome Clare.
She took his breath away, standing there with a bottle of wine in her hand. His driver, Brian, pulled a forelock and exited.
“Will that be all?”
“That will be all, Brian. Thank you. You can go home for the day.”
The bald eagle exited with a small bow to Clare. If he had any notion of what might be going on, his impeccable manners gave nothing away.
Clare thrust the bottle at Oliver with a smile. “Best Tween chardonnay. I had a bottle in my fridge.”
“Thank you. So Brian got you here safely?”
“He did, and a very nice guy he is too. He told me he’s been working for you since you joined Motham police department all those years ago.”
“Yes, he has. He’d been out of work for a while due to injury. He was carrying a huge hunk of Malibar stone and broke a wing. Poor guy—that should never have been a job for bald eagles. Only gargoyles and dragons can take the weight of that stuff. So anyway, he can’t fly, but he can drive.”
“And wow, you have a hover car too!”
“Yeah, well, it lives in the garage mostly.”
Her gaze flew around the ornate hallway. “This place is grand!”
Oliver pulled a face. “Too fancy for my taste. I’ve been debating removing some of the filigree and gilt edgings on everything.
But you know, I’d also be removing my mother’s décor and…
I can’t quite bring myself to do that.” He heard the slight crack in his voice and cleared his throat.
Shit, he didn’t need to get emotional right now.
She glanced at him sympathetically. “That must be so hard.”
“After two centuries, the memories fade,” he lied, knowing she didn’t buy it for a moment.
She’d been there when he cried out in his dreams. She’d salved his pain with her blood.
The thought of drinking her blood again tonight made anticipation light up his nerve endings.
Abruptly he said, “Come, let me show you around.”
He opened and closed doors, giving her a cursory glance into rooms still with dust covers on the furniture. His study, at least, was a room he’d redecorated in his simple taste.
He’d decided they would eat in the smaller ante room off the kitchen. As he showed her his spacious kitchen, she stared in amazement at the state-of-the-art appliances and coffee machine. Double ovens, and cupboards full of crystal glasses.
“You rattle around in here alone? Boiling an egg for breakfast?” She laughed.
“I do indeed, but I have staff who come and go, clean, and occasionally cook. Brian tends to the grounds as well as chauffeuring for me when needed. Now, go and sit down. I’ll sear the steaks and bring them in.”
Oliver had to admit, he was quite proud of his efforts to be the perfect host. He brought out the side dishes, then the steaks with a flourish. “Tuck in,” he said, waving a hand at the tray of vegetables and the crispy green salad.
He poured them each a glass of wine. “Bon Appetit,” he murmured and watched her covertly as she cut into her steak. Phew, it looked okay. “Is it to your liking?”
She popped a piece into her mouth and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Yes, delicious, perfect medium rare.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you nervous about your cooking?”
“Maybe a little. It’s been a while since I entertained anyone.”
“Then let me reassure you, it’s the best steak I have had. Ever. Period.”
He gave a little scoff of pleasure. “My parents used to own a farm up near Avella, with two hundred head of cattle, before The Great War. Steak was something my father knew how to cook.”
“And these roasted vegetables are divine.”
“Secret recipe—olive oil, a sprinkle of balsamic vinegar, and maple syrup.”
She waved her fork at him, her eyes twinkling. “No longer a secret.”
“Damn!” He laughed. “But enough of my cooking. I’ll develop a swollen head if you keep paying me compliments. Tell me something about your family.”
“There’s my mom and dad and my older brother, Adam. He helps them run the business now. He’s married to Trina, and they have an eighteen-month-old daughter, Poppy.”
“So you’re an auntie?”
“Yeah, she’s the cutest thing ever. I miss her the most out of all of them.”
“Well, you will be reunited when you return to live in Tween.”
She paused. “I’m not sure I will ever go back to live in Tween.”
“What will you do instead?”
“Work here in Motham PD. Maybe I’ll become the boss myself.”
“And if I choose to stay here and take the reins back from Saul?” He glanced at her under his lashes. “What then?”
“Then I will take the job when you retire, sir.”
He smiled. “You might wait a very long time.”
“Knowing that I have necromancy in my lineage and that necromancers live for many years, I am willing to accept the challenge.”
He couldn’t stop his smile spreading. The idea that she might stay on here, that they might enjoy another meal together when all this was over, and maybe another after that…
He found himself wishing this damn case would disappear, just like the suspects. Just leave him to be alone with Clare. Let the world go fuck itself. As long as he had her…
“Tell me about your childhood,” he prompted, trying to keep the longing out of his voice. Truth was, he wanted to know everything about her.
“Honestly, my life was boringly normal,”
“Other than talking with the dead?”
“That was normal for me. At least now I know why I was happy playing in the graveyard. And miserable at school.”
“Because of the bullying?”
A shadow fell over her face.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.”
“No, it’s fine… My parents sent me to a High Tween private girls’ school.
I got a scholarship, but it was a bad decision to take it up.
I wasn’t society, I wasn’t wealthy. And my parents were common undertakers.
” She hesitated. “The other girls loathed me from the moment I set foot on St Hilary’s grounds.
That’s how I became friends with Natalie, because she was also from an ordinary family.
Anyone who wasn’t somebody, who wasn’t connected to the Jordaks or the Council of Towns or the elite people who lived near Tween Park could just forget about fitting in. ”
He was silent, forcing himself to eat while the injustice of it roiled in his gut. He could feel his protectiveness toward her rising up again, as if she was his beloved.
He paused. There was that word again, beloved. Reserved for a vampire’s mate. If he let his mind dwell on that possibility, how would he drink her blood tonight without taking it one step further?
“It’s ironic that humans revile vampires when there is a cruelty in some of your own that would equal or even surpass the worst of our kind.”
“That is very true,” she agreed. “I have never been so cruelly treated as I was by those girls.”
“What did they do to you?” Oliver asked quietly.
She hesitated. “They called me a zombie. Drew skulls on my locker, left little dolls filled with voodoo pins on my desk, and one time they… they…”
“They what…?”
“They…” He saw her jaw working. “They invited me to a Halloween party and took me down into the basement, where they’d set up a coffin.
They told me everyone was taking turns to see how long they could lie in there with the lid down.
They made me feel special, said I’d be better at it than any of them.
When they’d all had their turn for a few seconds each, it was mine.
They left me there, locked in that coffin for the rest of the night, while they partied upstairs.
When they finally let me out, they said if I ever told anyone, they’d say I was crazy. ”
“You never reported them?”
“I—I was too scared. After that I kept to myself, until Natalie came to the school. They started to bully her, so we became friends. We helped each other through those rough years.”
“And yet, she broke off the friendship?”
She gave a helpless little shrug. “Yes. Seems I am jinxed when it comes to people caring about me.”
“You really believe that?”
“I’m a detective, I go on the evidence.”
Softly, he responded, “The evidence can sometimes be deceptive.”
A moment’s silence ensued, heavy with what was almost said. Then he asked, “Would you like dessert?”
Her brows lifted. “You’ve made dessert? I am truly impressed.”
“Dark chocolate mousse. But I admit, I bought it from Bellamy’s. I don’t stretch much past steaks.”
She laughed at that, and Oliver, weak soul that he was, allowed himself to imagine her sitting here, eating desert with him at this long table in the candlelight.
And afterward, taking her to his bed.
And making sweet love to her for hours.
Every. Single. Night.
Forever.