Chapter Nine
Harlow
Safe Isn’t Freedom
There’s a lush field beyond the concrete patio, large enough for an Olympic-sized pool.
The lawn is bordered by towering trees and forest foliage so cleanly cut away it almost doesn’t look natural, and in the dark of whatever late-night hour it is, most people would probably miss the actual privacy wall and portion of black iron gate that’s visible from my angle. But I don’t.
The sight of the dual barricades only drives home the terror clamping hard inside my chest.
My head still feels a little woozy, probably from where my stupid ankle inevitably gave out, and I kissed the dirt during my panicked run.
So a lot of what happened after seems jumbled.
I can’t straighten out the things I heard and the order of events with absolute certainty, other than that I was rescued by a fierce and wildly stunning redhead I don’t know.
Then, brought by what felt like a miracle, to Mateo.
He lied to me.
He told me I was safe. He told me I was free to leave. Then he told me I was trapped.
Trapped. Again. How could one girl be so unlucky?
I heave a hard breath, trying to push down the brick on my chest and clear my head as I stare out at the walls of my new prison. Nothing makes sense.
My feet shuffle forward, leaving the hard, cool concrete and sliding into grass. It’s thinner than I had anticipated. Mateo should consider replacing his landscapers.
“I’m a vampire.”
I groan and let myself drop to the grass, clutching my head until my hair is scrunched in my hand. What the hell am I thinking? Obviously, my ability to judge another person has been permanently damaged. I blame the institution for that. But blame hardly matters.
I’ve managed to stumble across a murderous lunatic and develop a misplaced crush on a man who thinks he can convince me he’s a vampire—and that on top of that, I am his destined mate. Match, whatever.
Maybe my parents and the doctors were right all along. Maybe I am insane.
I drop my hand from my hair to grab at the shirt over my chest as something burns through me without warning. It’s out of place among the other feelings tearing and churning inside—this one is more like concern with a nasty aftertaste of guilt.
Somehow, I swear I can smell Mateo as if he were with me. And for a split-second, the thought makes my foolish heart pick up speed.
My eyes squeeze shut as I suck in another hard breath. I can no longer trust anything Mateo has previously told me, and I cannot afford to forget that. Anyone capable of looking another person in the eye and denying them their freedom is not to be trusted.
Mateo is not my friend. He is not my boyfriend. He doesn’t have my best interests at heart, and he sure as shit isn’t my destiny.
I nearly snort this time as the word “vampire” replays in my mind.
He had no way to know, of course, but that was the dumbest story he could have used.
There’s no logical way a person with my curse could grow into adulthood and manage to be unaware of the existence of anything like freaking vampires.
I’m pretty sure those would leave entire trails of bitter souls.
I tip my head back, finally, and stare up for a moment at the stars overhead. The night is clear, and we’re far enough removed from city lights that a good portion of the stars show through. If I were happy to be here or see this view elsewhere, I would label it pretty.
But I’m not, and I’ve worked too hard for my freedom to let anyone take it from me. I broke free of a more traditional prison once. I can do it again.
Nodding to myself, I force my body to stand, ignoring the protest of muscles still sore from my wild dash through the forest. I brush some grass off my clothes, mentally steel myself, and start back toward the house I don’t want to be in.
It’s illogical in so many ways, but for argument’s sake—maybe for the sake of the strange feelings in my chest—I want to give Mateo or his housemates one more chance to show a little humanity.
I find Mateo leaning against the outside wall just beside the same patio door I’d stepped through earlier, as if he’d been watching me all along. He straightens as I near, but makes no move to reach for me.
I come to a stop instead of attempting to cross the threshold.
“I’m not a dog,” I tell him, watching closely as his brow dips in what appears to be confusion.
“You can’t slap a collar on me or throw me in a crate at your leisure.
You don’t get to arbitrarily decide where I go, if, when, or with whom. ”
Mateo bites out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I won’t be anyone’s prisoner, Mateo,” I say, as sharply as the rising ache in my chest allows. “I don’t care what you think you are or what you think that means for anyone else—”
My words choke off as I suddenly find myself spun completely around.
My back is pressed to the side of the building, several feet away from the open doorway, before I can even blink.
I feel almost as though the air I was in the process of breathing may itself have been left behind in the spot where I’m sure I was standing just a moment ago.
Mateo isn’t touching me, but his palms are flat on the wall about shoulder-width apart on either side of my head, and he leans close enough that the moonlight only barely illuminates his face. “I know exactly what I am, Harlow,” he says, speaking slowly and with firm emphasis.
My lungs seize. Not from his words, or even from the impossibly fast movement, but at the sight of fangs I’m sure I’ve never seen before, suddenly clear as day in his mouth. And they don’t look anything like those god-awful fake plastic things people wear for Halloween.
But that’s impossible. Surely, that’s impossible. I see death nearly every day, no matter how hard I try to avoid it. How could I not have known?
Mateo straightens and takes a step backward, letting his arms fall. “Don’t make me bite you to prove it. That’s not how this is supposed to happen.”
I swallow hard as doubt creeps in. “Even if it’s possible vampires are real,” I manage to say, though I’m struggling to find the strength I’d felt just seconds ago, “that doesn’t change anything.
You lied to me from the very beginning. And now you expect me just to accept being held here because you might be some superior being? ”
Mateo’s eyes narrow, and I have the strangest sense that I am certain he dislikes the words rolling off my tongue. It feels similar to self-directed anger.
The unexpected sensation makes my words falter, and a rush of something even harder to explain surges up in my chest. Despite everything—all his lies, his trying to hold me against my will, and even the discomfort of the possibility of the whole vampire thing—I don’t like the idea of him feeling something so harmful toward himself.
I have to consciously remind myself that the only thing he has to be mad about is the fact that I’m not collapsing at his feet and that this man isn’t who I thought he was. Who the hell cares if he pouts?
“I know I lied,” Mateo says after a short moment of quiet. “And I know you’ve been through a lot today—”
“Not just today,” I snap, his words somehow propelling my mind back into focus.
My indignation returns with such force I even take a step from the wall, inadvertently bringing us closer, and my hands curl into tight fists at my sides.
I repeat myself in a quiet, firm tone, willing him to see the fire in my eyes.
“Not just today. And I will never be held against my will again. Do you understand?”
Mateo’s beautiful eyes blow wide. “Again?”