28. Living in a Vampire World
Chapter twenty-eight
Living in a Vampire World
Nicolette
I stared at Delia in disbelief as she sat in the accent chair across from Julian and me on the couch back at the penthouse. She’d taken on the ethereal beauty of a full-fledged vampire. As if she’d shed her cocoon and emerged a lethal butterfly.
But how could she look so human at dinner and now look every bit a vampire? Except for her eyes, which swirled like a kaleidoscope, not knowing which color to turn.
Is this why my dad had been acting so strangely around her—he’d been dazzled by her allure? Vampire charm was powerful stuff.
I could personally attest to that.
Even now, I felt it as Julian sat beside me. Close, but not too close. His presence was a comfort—one I couldn’t afford to think about. But I needed him here for this. He was like an emotional support blanket. One I desperately wanted to wrap myself in, even though that was ridiculous.
For all intents and purposes, we were getting divorced.
I could already picture the filing.
Reason: Love sucks. Vampires bite. The end.
Wait, when had the word “love” come into play?
Nope. I didn’t have time for that.
My world had flipped upside down—again. I half expected someone to burst in and announce I was on one of those prank shows. Any second now, surely someone would tell me this was an elaborate hoax.
But the longer I sat there, the more it made sense.
Delia was a vampire.
She never used to touch anyone. She always used to wear sunglasses and long sleeves. For most of my life, she never went out in the sun. For years, she’d worked nights as a medical examiner. She’d even used a cane to sell the idea that she had muscle weakness from porphyria.
Claiming she had the disorder had been a brilliant plan, and she was a world-class actress.
And I’d fallen for all of it.
Not anymore.
“You said you needed my help,” I broke the thick silence between us. “Why?”
Delia looked almost relieved that I’d finally spoken. Her shoulders eased, and she released a breath I hadn’t realized she was holding. “I think you deserve the whole story first. How I came to be this way. How your mother saved me.”
I’d thought a lot about my mother tonight. About the secrets she’d kept.
Why had she kept them?
I leaned back against the couch and wrapped my arms around myself, bracing for what was coming. As much as I needed the truth, I was starting to understand something else—truth was irreversible. Once you had it, there was no going back.
The truth didn’t always set you free.
Sometimes it grabbed hold of you and shook you to your core.
That was where I was now—shaken. Standing in a world I didn’t recognize, with no idea how to navigate it safely anymore.
I’d even roped Daphne into it—not on purpose, of course. Poor thing was out on what she believed was her dream date. It had been the only viable way to keep her from the truth. From what had really happened tonight. From what had been happening for months.
The least I could do was spare her from all of this.
I just prayed Cyrus wasn’t the villain. Not that I could have kept Daphne from him even if I’d tried. The moment he offered to take her out for a late dinner, she’d jumped at the chance.
Julian had sworn to me that she would be safe. That Cyrus wasn’t the enemy.
Julian had also said he loved me.
I wasn’t sure I believed that either—or if it even mattered anymore.
Regardless of everything between us, Julian had slipped seamlessly into the role of loving husband once again. He moved closer and draped an arm around my shoulders.
Logically, I knew it made sense. The united front. We had no idea what we were dealing with. Delia could be lying, for all we knew. And even if she wasn’t, it was safer for the world to keep believing Julian and I were in love.
At this point, Julian was my only line of defense in his world—a world I was beginning to realize was far bigger and far darker than I’d ever imagined.
Delia tilted her head, studying us. “I had my doubts about your relationship at first,” she said slowly. “But I see now that I was wrong. I couldn’t believe you were marrying a vampire. Much less that you were in love with one.”
She thought we were in love? Were we that good of actors? Or . . . No, still no time to unpack that.
“You knew?” The question came out snippier than I’d intended. Of course she’d known. “Why didn’t you say anything?” A heads-up would’ve been nice. She’d probably known what Julian was long before I had.
But why hadn’t Julian recognized one of his own kind?
“What could I have said?” she asked quietly. “I assumed you knew what you were getting into. You’re a smart girl. I thought perhaps it was even part of Grace’s plans.” Her voice caught. “And . . . if I’d said anything, you would’ve known my secret too.”
Her composure cracked.
“I’ve spent my life hiding it. Running from it,” she said, tears slipping free. “I hate what I am. What I’ve become.”
I closed my hand around the heart-shaped locket at my throat, squeezing it until the edges bit into my palm. One of the last tangible pieces of my mother. How could she leave me with so many unanswered questions? With so little preparation for a world like this?
“For starters”—I let the locket go, my voice tight—“what do you mean by my mother’s plans?” I needed to tread carefully. Not give too much away. But I needed answers—needed to know if she already suspected my secret. The secret of my blood.
Delia straightened, wiping the moisture from her cheek with a quick, almost embarrassed movement. She rarely showed any emotion, and certainly nothing like this.
“Your mother always had big plans,” she said quietly. “She was going to save the world. Save me.”
“I thought she did save you.”
“So did I,” Delia whispered. “But something has gone wrong with the cure. The effects have been wearing off for weeks now. I tried to ignore them. It was just subtle things like being able to hear a private conversation in the next office, or being able to see the tiniest particles in the air. They were things I could try to reason away. But the last few days,” she choked out.
“The desire for blood, it’s been impossible to ignore.
And now this.” She waved a hand over herself.
Julian shifted beside me in a subtly protective movement.
“Are you saying the plasma treatment for porphyria is faulty?” I asked, confused.
I hadn’t realized that for some vampires it muted their heightened senses.
My mind immediately went to Hart Labs—to headlines, lawsuits, the fallout of a faulty treatment.
If it wasn’t working on vampires, did that mean it would stop working on humans too?
“No,” Delia said with a tired sigh. “That wasn’t the cure . That was a temporary fix.”
Uh. What?
I placed a hand on Julian’s leg and squeezed, forcing myself to stay calm. “Are you saying my mom discovered an actual cure for vampirism?”
The thought that followed hit fast and hard.
Did she use my blood?
And if she had . . . who knew about it?
Julian covered my hand with his own. No doubt he was thinking the same thing I was. I might be in far greater danger than we’d realized. For all we knew, there was some incomplete cure out there with my DNA signature attached to it.
“She thought she had,” Delia said carefully, “but please—let me give you some context. I need you to understand that I’m not your enemy here.” Her gaze flicked to Julian. “I know your husband has been digging into my past.”
“You’re damn right I have,” Julian shot back. “Your behavior has been nothing short of suspicious. And now this.” He pointed at her. “I will do whatever it takes to protect Nicolette.”
“As will I,” Delia said sharply, meeting his glare. “Which is precisely why I’m here—to prove my innocence.”
I wasn’t sure I believed either of them. But oddly enough, my bet leaned toward Julian.
What did that mean?
Again—no time for this.
“Great,” I said, forcing a steadier tone than I felt. “You both want to protect me. Delia, tell us your story.”
I braced myself for another world-rocking revelation.
Delia closed her eyes and took a slow, deliberate breath, as if gathering the courage to speak. That alone didn’t inspire confidence. And when she opened her eyes and fixed them on me, I knew this wasn’t going to be a fairy tale.
“It all started my freshman year at Whitman,” she began. “Your mother was assigned as my dorm roommate. We hit it off immediately.”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “We both loved the world of medicine and science and planned to be doctors. And we both had a thing for Days of Our Lives .”
I couldn’t help it—I grinned, unable to picture my mom or Delia sprawled on a dorm bed, glued to a soap opera.
“We were practically inseparable,” Delia said. “It felt like we were sisters more than friends.”
That’s how I felt about Daphne. Please don’t let Daphne be dead. Or doing a striptease for Cyrus. I’d been there.
“It was the best year of my life,” Delia continued.
“And when summer break came, we already had plans to room together again sophomore year. Your mom was even going to visit me that summer in Seattle, where my family lived at the time.” Her voice faltered.
“But something happened that ruined everything . . .”
“What?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Delia lifted a trembling finger and pointed at Julian. “I walked down the wrong street one night in Seattle. I don’t even remember what happened. All I know is that one of his kind found me. And he left me for dead.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But I didn’t die. Though I wished I had.”
“I know that feeling,” Julian said quietly. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
A sudden feeling of sorrow for both of them washed over me.
Without quite realizing it, I tucked myself closer into Julian’s side. Our relationship—whatever it was now—was becoming more complicated by the minute.