CHAPTER 5 AILEEN
CHAPTER 5
AILEEN
In the middle of the wide white wall hung an oil painting on canvas. It depicted a river in the middle of a desert during sunset, with a large silhouette of a bird flying over it, as if it was heading over to the sun. The colors—a mix of reds, oranges, yellow, and light blue—made the painting seem as though it was on fire, vivid and brilliant.
The painting was heartbreakingly beautiful.
I glanced at the bottom of the canvas, where the initials OA were scribbled. I already knew what those initials stood for—Orion Atalon, the vampire Lord of the Atalon League.
All paintings in this aisle were his, and each and every one of them was a masterpiece. Hung on the plain white walls, they needed no special frames or extra ornaments; the paintings told an entire story within the realm of shapes and colors.
And this painting before me, titled Bird of the Nile , was probably the best of this collection. It was beyond beautiful; it was undeniably perfect in every sense.
After taking out my notebook, I wrote my findings from the painting. The concept was modern, but it was painted so realistically it was closer to a picture than a painting. It reminded me of Rembrandt’s style, especially his piece The Three Trees from the seventeenth century. But the colors were far more poignant, meshed in a way unlike anything I’d seen before.
Atalon was beyond a genius. It almost felt like his pieces were the embodiment of art itself.
Since this piece was the last in the aisle, it was about time I went to report to Zion, the Atalon League Lieutenant and also the Atalonian Museum manager and master guide—and my boss. But I didn’t feel like I’d had enough of Atalon’s works. It felt like I could learn more, be sucked into them, if I just stared at them for a few more minutes.
But I wasn’t an artistic genius myself. My knowledge of art and its history was limited. Even if I spent days and nights sitting in this aisle, I would still be unable to scratch the surface of everything these paintings hid within them.
With a heavy sigh, I sneaked one last glance at the Bird of the Nile before I reluctantly left.
The Atalonian Museum was a large, seemingly never-ending building that took over the space of four blocks in downtown Rochester. During my first week as an assistant guide, I’d gotten lost more than once, even though I had a map, and I was by no means directionally challenged. Even now, after spending every single day in the museum during the past month since I’d started this job, I still found it hard to navigate, though no longer impossibly so.
The museum’s architecture was a collection of crooks and nooks, spiraling aisles, and confusing, intertwined floors—all for the sake of displaying the artwork at their best and according to specific requests by the artists. I was currently in one of those odd, in-between-floors kind of corridors, which I felt was heading down, though it looked as straight as usual, the tilting too gradual to visually notice—especially with the mind-boggling wall paintings that made me realize I was actually going up.
By the time I reached the corridor’s end—which was at the ground floor, while I’d come in from Atalon’s collection aisle on the fifth floor—I had the already familiar headache. Massaging my temples, I headed toward the elevator and then stopped in my tracks.
Atalon leaned against the wall and gave me a smile and a wave. “Good evening, Aileen,” he said, black eyes watching me. “Have you had dinner yet?”
Cautiously, I approached him and replied, “Not yet.”
“Then let’s have dinner together,” he said and pressed the elevator button.
Silence spread through the air as we descended to the underground compound, and I couldn’t help but feel nervous. I hadn’t seen Atalon since that first day after the Auction—he was a Lord, after all, and quite busy too—so I couldn’t help but be confused as to why he sought me out now.
Was it normal for him to have dinner with his bottom-feeder League members from time to time?
Back at the Rayne League, Ragnor had never done so. He’d drawn a clear line between himself and others. He’d made sure that everyone knew who was in charge. That’s why he’d wanted his relationship with me to be discreet, so as to not hurt his position or whatever.
Bitterness filled me at the thought. How stupid I’d been, thinking that Ragnor wanted me for more than just being his dirty little secret.
The elevator’s ping snapped me out of those dark thoughts as the doors opened, revealing the corridor leading to the cafeteria. “Ladies first,” Atalon now said, gesturing for me to go ahead.
After stepping out, we headed to the cafeteria. The moment we walked through the doors, however, I realized something was up.
It was the peak time for dinner, and the cafeteria was crowded and loud with chatter. When Atalon and I walked in, multiple heads turned in our direction as if they had planned it beforehand. Silence spread across the room as Atalon led me to a table for two right smack in the middle of the cafeteria, and when we sat down, murmurs broke out among the diners.
“Who is she?”
“Why is she with our Lord?”
“Has he found a new lover?”
The prickles of their stares made me belatedly realize the table we had settled in was unlike others. It was the only table set for dinner, with a small candle and prepared plates and cutlery on top of a dark-red tablecloth.
It seemed Atalon had prepared it ahead of time. But why make it all romantic?
Clearing my face of the discomfort I felt, I was about to speak when Atalon, staring at me with a wicked grin that made my discomfort grow, suddenly clapped his hands twice. As if he’d teleported, a man wearing kitchen-server clothes appeared. “Good evening, my Lord,” he said with a respectful nod. “What would you like to order?”
“For starters, bring us a 1996 cabernet sauvignon,” Atalon replied smoothly, “and prepare a menu for me and Miss Henderson here.”
The server bowed. “At once, my Lord,” he said before he disappeared as though his ass was on fire.
Ignoring the new wave of murmurs from the nearby diners who’d just learned of my identity, I turned to glare at Atalon. “What’s all this about, my Lord?”
He leaned forward with his grin still intact and a calculating look in his pitch-black eyes. “It’s special treatment,” he said smugly.
“I gathered that much,” I grated out, “but why?”
He chuckled. “Would you buy it if I said there’s no reason behind it?”
“I doubt you do anything without a reason, my Lord,” I bit out, feeling more anxious now. I really didn’t want his attention. Not in this way.
I wasn’t an idiot. I understood Atalon was attracted to me. But I refused to get mixed up with any Lord ever again. I refused to be used and tossed to the side at the first opportunity.
Not when Ragnor kept appearing in my dreams every night.
Before my mood could dampen further, the server returned with two glasses of wine and put them in front of us along with a single piece of paper, which he handed to Atalon.
Once Atalon dismissed the server with a wave, he returned his gaze to me and raised his glass. “To your successful future in my League,” he said formally, but a playful smile flirted with his lips.
Swallowing my suspicions, I clinked my glass with his and sipped the wine, trying not to wince at its bitterness. It seemed it was mixed with O negative, which tended to bring a bitter aftertaste to drinks. It wasn’t my cup of tea, to say the least.
Afterward, Atalon did a peculiar thing again. He summoned the server again with a clap of his hands and curtly ordered, “Salade Nicoise for starters, duck confit for me, and bouchée à la reine for Miss Henderson.”
I was too stunned to speak outright until the server had already disappeared. “Did you just order for me?”
Either he didn’t hear the outrage in my voice or he didn’t care, because he winked and said, “Worry not, Aileen. I assure you it’s extremely delicious.”
That wasn’t the point! I wanted to argue, but something told me that I shouldn’t. Mood officially soured, I grumbled, “Next time, I would like to order for myself.” Because I did not need this kind of seventeenth-century chivalry, if it could even be called that.
He perked up. “Does that mean you would like to have dinner with me again?”
After gritting my teeth, I forced my voice to be polite as I said, “It’s a figure of speech.”
“We’ll see about that,” he retorted quickly and smiled. “Now, Aileen, please tell me. How have my League and your new job been treating you so far?”
My indignance rose at our former conversation, but I pushed it down. Yelling at Atalon that I had enough agency to decide things for myself—be it food or going out with him again—didn’t feel like the right thing to do, so I switched gears and moved on, swallowing my tongue. “It’s been good,” I replied. “Zion is a good boss, and the League members seem nice.”
It was a bit of a stretch, but I didn’t feel like getting into it with him.
“I’m very happy to hear that,” Atalon said, sounding sincere. “I want you to thrive here, and I believe you’ll feel safe under my protection.”
I froze. “I wasn’t aware there were dangers in the League.”
He gave me a knowing grin that made my stomach somersault. “I’ve heard of what happened to you in Vegas during your field trip a couple months back,” he said, practically dropping a verbal bomb. “I heard you were kidnapped.”
Shock rooted me to the seat, so much so that I barely noticed when the server returned with our orders. If I’d had an appetite, it was now completely gone. “How do you know about that?” I asked, voice demanding. Because other than those kidnappers and Ragnor, no one should’ve known.
Or maybe Ragnor told someone? Told him?
But why would he do this? Ragnor wasn’t the sharing type, especially when a noob under his watch tried to escape.
“I have my ways,” Atalon replied mysteriously. “But that’s not the point. I can assure you that in my care, nothing of the like would ever come to pass.”
He dug into his food then while I just stared into space, trying to make sense of things.
Could he have been in league with my kidnappers?
I remembered my kidnapping like it was yesterday. The men who took me seemed to be extremely antivampire. After Ragnor rescued me, he informed me that he knew who they were but told me nothing beyond that.
If Ragnor knew who they were, then Atalon could possibly know too.
“Please eat,” Atalon said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “I assure you it doesn’t bite.”
I looked down at my dish for the first time and tried my hardest not to scrunch my nose. It was some sort of puffy pastry filled with a creamy mixture of chicken, mushrooms, and béchamel sauce. It did not look appetizing to me, mainly because I couldn’t stand béchamel sauce.
But since I didn’t want to cause a fuss under Atalon’s expectant eyes, I forced myself to bite into it and murmured dryly, “So good.”
As if he didn’t hear the sarcasm, Atalon gave me a grin and continued eating his much more appetizing meal.
For the rest of the meal, neither of us spoke. When Atalon suggested we order a dessert, I said I was stuffed, when the truth was I had simply lost my appetite altogether.
Once we were done, Atalon insisted on accompanying me on the walk back to my room. I was reluctant since I didn’t want any more rumors going around about us, but eventually I just let it go. I was tired from a full day of work and dinner with him.
When we reached the door of my suite, Atalon paused in front of me and said, “You make a good dinner companion, Aileen. I enjoyed our time together.”
The smile I offered him was strained, fake even. I didn’t want him to ask me out again, and I most certainly didn’t want him to think he was getting a good night kiss. “Glad to be of service. Good night, my Lord—”
He was suddenly right in front of me, his face mere inches away, his hands grabbing mine. “I’ve waited until you’ve acclimated to the League before making my move,” he said quietly, eyes on mine. “But the truth is, Aileen, I’ve had my eyes on you ever since we met during your field trip.”
My muscles tensed. “I . . .”
“Shush,” he said, putting his finger over my lips. “I don’t expect a response from you right away. I’m well aware that your heart lies elsewhere. But I have every intention of changing that; so be ready, Aileen.” He moved forward, pressing his lips against my cheek. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make you mine.”
Before I could think of a response other than to simply gawk at him, Atalon turned around and left.
Neon-blue eyes stared straight into my soul as a hard chest pasted itself against mine. Hands slid down the backs of my thighs, spreading my legs wide. Lips pressed against my own, making my heartbeat quicken and my legs automatically wrap around his torso.
Just when I was about to kiss him back, trying to wriggle closer to him, to have his cock rub against my aching pussy, he suddenly leaned back and rose to his feet, leaving my skin burning with desire and need, yearning for his touch.
He stared down at me, grimaced, and then turned around as if to leave.
But he couldn’t leave me like that! “No,” I whispered, climbing clumsily to my feet and trying to go after him, but it seemed like he was getting farther and farther away. “No, don’t leave me—”
I woke up with a start. Perspiration covered my skin, wetting my pajamas, and my thighs were squeezing together, as if to try to stop the overflow of moisture in my pussy.
Release. I need release.
But the release I needed, the release I longed for, would not be able to be reached with my own fingers. I needed him . I needed Ragnor .
And yet he wasn’t here.
So all I could do was bite my lip and grab the sheets, trying to ride the wave of need and desire that made me feel more alone than ever.