Chapter 7
Susie
When I opened that hotel room door, my brain took a minute to catch up with what my eyes had already seen.
I’d been so eager to get out of the noise and into the peaceful quiet that the reality was hard to understand.
It made so little sense—the destruction, the chaos.
“Oh my God.” The words slipped out before I could stop them; the room was wrecked.
I always liked keeping things neat and orderly when I traveled.
Living directly out of my suitcase just made me feel a little yucky and wrinkled.
Last night, after I’d arrived and checked in, I’d carefully unpacked my suitcase and carry-on.
Now, everything had been ripped from the shelves and scattered across the floor.
My books had been knocked off the side table, my panties lay in a wad beside the trash.
Neat balls of socks had been unrolled and thrown about like confetti.
Even the bed had been stripped halfway, the sheets twisted and pulled like someone had searched under them.
“What the hell…?” I stepped inside slowly, my pulse picking up, this time not from panic in the dark.
This panic was brought on by confusion. Why would anyone do this?
I was not rich, carried nothing worth stealing, and was probably one of the most boring people on the planet.
I hadn’t been gone that long, and this couldn’t be about Raoul either; he hadn’t been here yet.
I hadn’t even told anyone where I was staying, just my ex since he picked this hotel, but he had no reason to care.
It wasn’t like my family cared what I got up to.
It would make me feel better to know my room wasn’t the only one ransacked, even if that would ruin someone else’s day, too.
This felt so targeted, though, especially when I noticed that a knife had been taken to my carry-on bag.
One slash had cut straight through the ugly Jersey Devil sticker that Logan had put there.
Behind me, I could feel Raoul; he hadn’t moved far from the door, but I didn’t need to look to know he was there.
I could feel him hovering, like a shift in the air itself.
It was intense, that prickle of feeling his presence evoked, like I was under the gaze of a predator: still, watchful, and dangerous.
I swallowed and moved further inside, stepping over a pile of clothes toward the small table by the window.
That’s when I saw how bad it was, the damage to my carry-on, or what was left of it.
“No,” I whispered. It lay half on the table, that sticker side up, so that’s all I’d seen at first, but it wasn’t a single knife slash that had gutted the bag.
The zipper had been forced open, the fabric slashed in jagged lines like someone had taken a knife to it and worked out their fury. The contents—some documents, a book, chargers, and other random travel stuff I hadn’t bothered to unpack—had been dumped out and rifled through.
It was the only bag that had been carved to bits, not my suitcase or my purse, and though scattered, my clothes seemed whole too.
Only that one had gotten such special attention; a cold, creeping feeling slid down my spine.
“That doesn’t make sense,” I murmured, more to myself than anything.
“Why that one?” And why was nothing taken?
The memory hit me like a jolt: the airport crowd and the chaotic deboarding upon arrival.
That woman, the one who had insisted my bag was hers.
Her frazzled, wan appearance and the hollow, almost scared look in her eyes.
My stomach dropped. “Oh no.” That had not been a coincidence.
Somehow, for some insane reason, they thought there was something in my carry-on bag they wanted.
Behind me, Raoul spoke in a low, deep voice. “I am not leaving.” His tone was controlled, but there was something under it now; something sharp enough to cut. Menacing. It sent a shiver down my spine.
I turned slightly to look at him and discovered that he still hadn’t stepped fully into the room.
The shadows from the hallway seemed to cling to him, outlining the rigid set of his shoulders and the tension in his posture.
His eyes did that thing where they glowed golden, like a cat’s might.
“I beg your pardon?” I said faintly, certain I’d heard him wrong.
“You invited me here out of kindness, but I’m certain you always intended we would part ways,” he continued. “That will not be happening.” Something in my chest tightened, and I wasn’t ready to put a name to the feeling yet. It felt big, the way he was talking, what he was saying.
“I mean…” I gestured vaguely at the room. My mouth was dry, fear still coating my skin in cold sweat. “You have your own situation to deal with, right? Your missing friend, the gargoyle situation, the whole waking up nearly a century early thing…”
“And you,” he cut in, his eyes still golden, piercing me with a fierce stare. That cold sweat evaporated, and the fear came to an abrupt stop inside my belly. Raoul, he was so good at throwing curveballs, and yet I still didn’t expect them.
“And me?” I asked uncertainly. We were complete strangers, granted, strangers who knew some pretty interesting secrets about one another, but strangers all the same. The last thing I expected was for him to stick around to deal with my issues when he already had plenty on his plate.
He quirked an eyebrow at me and, with perfunctory motions, straightened his dusty jacket. “You are clearly in distress,” he said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “And I do not abandon a damsel in such circumstances.”
That snapped something back into place, excuse me? “I am not a damsel,” I shot back, heat flaring despite everything. The assumption that I was unable to handle this on my own was infuriating. “And I am perfectly capable of handling...”
He moved so fast—too fast—it was like he’d teleported.
One second he was by the door; the next, he was in front of me.
His hand came up, tilting my chin before I could react.
My breath caught sharply in my chest, and then he kissed me.
I’d never been kissed the way Raoul kissed me before: warm, firm, brief, but enough to steal the air from my lungs and scatter my thoughts completely.
By the time I realized what had happened, he had already pulled back.
I stared at him, and of course he looked entirely composed.
Infuriatingly so. Another of those curveballs, and I wasn’t ready, not one bit.
I’d been so certain he thought I was just convenient help, but now? I didn’t know what to think.
“I will find the one responsible for this,” he said, as if he hadn’t just completely derailed my brain.
“And I will see them answer for it.” He said that with such conviction that I had no choice but to believe him.
He stood so close to me that the warmth from his body seemed to envelop me, heating my cold skin.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “You can’t just...” I gestured wildly. “You can’t just do that!” I wasn’t sure if I was referring to the sudden kiss or the way he’d taken over my life, and my vacation.
“I already have,” he declared succinctly, but I saw the way his mouth quirked, showing a hint of fang and mirth.
His coat might be dusty, the white of his shirt turned ivory, but his hair was a pale blonde, so shiny it looked silver.
He smelled good too, when he had no right to do so: masculine, deep, warm, and enticing.
“That is not the point!” He arched a brow, unimpressed, and took my breath away with how freaking handsome he looked when he did that.
“Also,” I added, because apparently my brain had decided to latch onto the least important detail, “where exactly are you planning to sleep? Because there is only one bed, and...”
We both turned our heads at the same time to gaze at the ruffled sheets of the nearby bed.
My pulse spiked as I contemplated the most obvious: sharing that bed.
Tangled limbs rather than tangled sheets.
He really shouldn’t be so sexy after a two-century nap; at the very least, he should have the worst bed hair in existence.
“I will not require rest,” Raoul said, interrupting my chaotic, and a little too lusty, thoughts.
“You won’t?” I mouthed. Blinking up at him in confusion, I made myself consider what I knew of vampires. He’d been sleeping in a freaking crypt; perhaps he would prefer a coffin over a bed.
“I have slept for two centuries,” he said dryly. “I believe I can remain awake a while longer.” Finally, he stepped away and began prowling around the room like a predator trapped in a cage, his dusty coat flapping behind him, but his stride smooth and sleek.
“Right,” I muttered. “Sure. Why didn’t I think of that?” Because at this point, I’d believe anything he said. The glowing eyes and the fangs—they were too real to deny that he was what he said he was: a vampire. “I need a minute,” I said abruptly.
I stepped around him before he could respond, grabbing a relatively clean pair of pants from the chaos on the floor and making a beeline for the bathroom.
It was all a bit much for one day, and my pants were all torn up and bloody.
At least that I could fix; putting the vampire genie back in its bottle was impossible.
I shut the door behind me with a loud snicking noise, then locked it for good measure.
Raoul hadn’t protested, and I didn’t think he’d violate my privacy.
He was too well-mannered for such a thing, but it felt good to be out of his sight for a moment.
I leaned against the door, exhaling shakily, and wiped my tired eyes with the back of my hand. “What has happened to my life?”