Chapter 4 Kayla
Kayla
Iglanced around my apartment. It wasn’t a lot, but it was my home; and for the most part, I’d been happy here.
Sure, my curtains were a little thin, my rugs a little threadbare, but I was making it on my own.
I was living my life, singing and… Well, I was perfectly happy to ignore the other crap the Ricard royals had asked of me.
After all, they were gone now. I no longer needed to think about them or the things they’d requested—especially when those requests extended to raising the dead. Even I drew the line at necromancy.
If only they’d simply been requests without merit or the ability to become very real nightmares.
Although the power had leapt through me, I’d resisted.
Usually. There had been that one time I’d…
I shook my head. That one time didn’t matter.
I hadn’t done it again, and what the covens thought of me now didn’t matter either.
I shivered as I remembered the garden of their mansion, where the scent of death hung in the air like Spanish moss over the tree branches and the old king had lain in his increasingly frequent state of stasis.
I’d grown used to thinking of émile as the old king, but that was simply due to his age and the fact he seemed to be living on increasingly borrowed time. Now, he was truly the old king, replaced by a brand-new king, Nicolas Dupont.
My thoughts strayed to his representative—the man with the intelligent blue eyes that almost made me want to follow him straight to his bed to see if his brown hair could be that tousled by natural means. Sebastian Dupont.
Naomi had said he was the king’s brother, so that made him a prince. As far as I was concerned, all royalty was dangerous. Royal vampires were especially powerful. It was how their bloodlines retained control over the various territories for so long.
Usually, that was a good thing—stability could be maintained for centuries. Occasionally, the system went wrong, as in the case of the House of Ricard, where rot had set in and not let go.
That had been strange, though. The rumor had always been that émile was very ancient, very powerful. It made me wonder what had changed for him, because something had certainly brought about his weakening grip on his rule. Not that it mattered anymore.
He was dead. Gone. No more.
And now, as much as I wanted to return to the club and catch another glimpse of the regent, self-preservation demanded I stay away. I had no reason to see him again, anyway. No need — if I ignored the fierce, burning need he seemed to have ignited low in my belly.
And that just made no sense.
The man could be very dangerous for me. After all, vampires had never been good news in my life, and I really didn’t want to get mixed up with any more royal ones.
Pushing the man from my thoughts, I focused instead on thoughts of Lettie as I removed another folded pile of clothes from a drawer and transferred them to the open suitcase on my patchwork bedspread.
I still hadn’t heard from her, and although I’d asked around, no one else had heard from her either — not since before the great battle that seemed to have occurred while I was on my vacation.
No one was worried, though. After all, Lettie was old and wily.
There was rarely a situation she couldn’t work to her advantage or at least a situation she couldn’t manipulate to assure she escaped unscathed.
émile and Francois had asked a lot of her over the years, and she’d always managed to both serve them and do as she pleased in all other areas of her life.
Perhaps as a final act, they’d released her from her contract.
That small thought gave me hope. Hope that Lettie was out there somewhere and doing okay. More than okay…truly well. Then there might be hope that I might meet that same resolution. Freedom. Certain freedom.
If Lettie had been officially released from her age-old contract with the Ricards, I couldn’t imagine anything that would have made her stay in New Orleans.
She could take care of herself, after all.
I couldn’t exactly imagine her sipping a pina colada beneath a palm tree, but wherever she was, she’d probably carved a very nice life for herself already.
I just missed her. I couldn’t help that.
She’d offered me so much wisdom and safety.
A selfish part of me wanted to find her just so I could renew that safety one last time.
It was shit to not know what had actually happened to her, but if she was actually free, she’d leave town without a backward glance.
Hell, I only halfway suspected I was free, and look at me — I was packing like a demon on speed in an effort to get the hell out of Dodge.
There were safer places than New Orleans for me.
A series of sharp knocks sounded from my front door, similar to the rat-a-tat-tat of machine gun fire.
Whoever was out there meant business, and I walked over to look through the peephole.
I wasn’t expecting anyone, and I hadn’t mentioned to any friends that I was leaving town, so no one would have just dropped by to wish me well.
Not that I had a huge number of friends left after the covens all considered I’d strayed from the good path.
Really only Naomi and Lettie.
Possibly only Naomi now that Lettie appeared to be missing or to have found her freedom.
A guy stood in the hallway outside, his hair cropped close to his head, a thick scar on display on his scalp, looking a hell of a lot like some kind of trouble.
“Hello?” I spoke through the door. I didn’t believe in inviting trouble inside my home. “Can I help you?”
He looked at the door as he replied. “I’m Kyle. I’m a representative of the king. I’m here about your contract.”
My breath caught and my chest hollowed, a chill filtering through me. Damn it. I glanced back at my bedroom door, my half-packed suitcase just visible on the bed.
I’d been so close.
“May I come in?” His voice was muted but loud enough neighbors might start paying attention if I continued to let him talk to me from outside in the hallway.
The last thing I needed was even more gossip and whispering behind my back — or even directly to my face from some of the bolder people. With reluctance, I clicked the locks open and opened the door.
I poured as much scorn as I could into my expression. But I’d barely moved aside before he walked into my home, his gaze darting left and right like he was taking inventory of my possessions or silently judging me. I folded my arms, almost daring him to give voice to his thoughts.
He walked by my bookshelf, pausing for a moment as if he noticed the dust-free spots where I’d taken some of the trinkets and already put them into my case.
Then he glanced into my bedroom. “Going somewhere?”
I shrugged. “Always planning my next vacation.” But my voice came out thin and uncertain rather than casual and carefree.
I wanted to be more assertive around this man, but something about him sucked all of the air out of the room and left it hard for me to even draw breath, let alone think clearly. He was very… intense. Each of his movements had something of a predator about them.
Another vampire, then…But this one seemed less tame, less cultured, than Sebastian Dupont.
He crossed to my small table, one that was usually strewn with books and mail but was suspiciously clear this evening, and laid out some paperwork.
Then he turned and beckoned to me with a simple crook of one finger.
From anyone else, it would have been a definite come hither.
From this guy, it was a command I didn’t dare disobey.
“What is it?” I asked the question to stall for time. But I didn’t need to ask anything at all. I knew what it was — a new contract. The word contract at the top of the page made that much perfectly clear.
He shrugged, and even that movement had an element of something dark and heavy, something dangerous, about it. And why the hell did danger always wear a leather jacket?
“It’s a formality.”
I barked out a laugh—one I couldn’t prevent—forced out by the bubble of horror quickly rising through my chest. “Signing a brand-new contract plunging me into service with a whole new royal family is just a formality to you?”
He looked at me, his gaze empty. Like his soul was missing.
“It is a formality. Your old contract was chaotic and imprecise, but it was very clear that you remain in service to the royal family presiding over New Orleans — something not limited to the Ricards. This just updates your previous contract to something fair. I think you’ll find the terms are better.
” He gestured toward the paperwork and produced a pen from the back pocket of his jeans.
“Sebastian Dupont now owns your services.”
“The hell he does!” Fuck, I’d been so close to escaping. I shouldn’t have hung around. I shouldn’t have searched for Lettie. She was okay. She was always okay. She’d never needed me to worry about her before, so why had I started now?
I forgot about self-preservation. We lived in a dog-eat-dog world, and I’d lulled myself into a false sense of safety.
“No one owns me.” Anger strengthened my tone, and when I pointed to the front door, I didn’t even tremble. “I’d like you to leave now.”
But he didn’t move. “You need to sign the contract.” He didn’t speak through gritted teeth, but he might as well have.
We were both about to be stubborn.
I shook my head. “I don’t need to do anything. I don’t know you; I don’t know the man at the club. And when Francois Ricard was overthrown, my service ended. I no longer work for vampires.” It felt so good to say those words. Fuck, yes. It felt good to stand up for myself.
But the man in my space didn’t move so much as a muscle. He stood perfectly still, like I’d petrified him with a spell.
“Kyle?” I used the name he’d given me, and it seemed to galvanize him into action.