Chapter Six
New Year’s Resolution Number Six: Embrace change. Time for a new you.
When Lark came running down the stairs, Devereaux waved away the guards who immediately stepped forward.
Salvatore coughed. “Uh, yeah, she doesn’t sound happy. Doesn’t look happy, either.”
No, she didn’t. Devereaux smiled at her, anyway. He was pleased to see that she’d dressed—putting on jeans, a sweater, and sneakers he’d had bought for her. Since she wasn’t still clad in the gown, he wouldn’t have to kill the vamps around him.
For a moment, he didn’t think she’d stop her frantic run. He was fully prepared for her to rush straight into his arms. He even had his arms open and ready for her.
But she came to a staggering stop on the bottom stair. “For a minute, I thought I had fangs.”
Salvatore coughed again.
Devereaux spared the chief of his guards—and his best friend—a quelling glare. The guy was not going to screw this up for him.
“But then they were gone.” Her words tumbled out quickly. “I think I’m having a breakdown.”
Not exactly. “We should go into the dining hall. There’s a breakfast feast waiting for you.” He took her hand.
She pulled it away. “I thought I had fangs.”
Carefully, his fingers lifted to her mouth. He traced over her soft lips. “I don’t see any fangs.”
Her lips parted.
Her eyes smoldered.
No fangs, but he did see desire. Lark didn’t get it. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to control her hunger. Desire would be all that she knew. Sleeping Beauty had woken up, and there was no turning back now.
“I just see you,” he whispered. “Beautiful, perfect you.”
But Lark shook her head. “You’re seeing the wrong thing.”
No, he was seeing her.
She skirted around him. Headed for the massive front doors.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Salvatore tense.
“I’m getting out of here,” Lark declared. “Thanks for the breakfast offer, but, I’m good. I mean…vamps don’t even eat breakfast, so I don’t know what you’ve—”
“The breakfast was made for you. Chocolate chip muffins. Biscuits and gravy. Bacon. All of your favorite things.” Because he’d wanted to tempt her.
She spun on her heel and frowned at him. “How do you know what my favorite things are?”
Because when he’d found her last night, he’d sent men to interview her friends.
While she’d been sleeping, he’d been learning every single thing that he could about her.
With just a little compulsion, her human friends had revealed everything they knew.
Of course, he’d already known plenty about her.
All the big secrets. When it came to Lark, Devereaux was a bit of an expert.
Something he would not be revealing to her anytime soon.
Before he could speak, Devereaux saw understanding flare in her gorgeous, emerald eyes. “Holy shit. You…you like, vamp stalked me or something.”
Once more, Salvatore coughed.
Lark glanced his way. “Are you sick? I didn’t think vampires got sick, but that cough doesn’t sound good.” She appeared genuinely worried. About a vampire. “I’d tell you to get some Vitamin C, but I know you can’t drink orange juice so…”
Salvatore smiled at her. “Don’t worry. I’ll get a drink soon.” His blue eyes twinkled.
“You are not talking about orange juice,” she accused.
Salvatore stepped toward her. He was as tall as Devereaux, with broad shoulders and a grin that came frequently. The grin was a mask, though, because the guy was one of the deadliest and most dangerous bastards that Devereaux had ever encountered.
That was why they were friends.
“Not orange juice,” Salvatore agreed. “Something a little…spicier.”
She squeezed her eyes closed. “I’m in a vamp den, and I’m hallucinating that I have fangs.”
Not hallucinating.
Lark’s long, thick lashes lifted as she declared, “I’m going home. It’s been real interesting, but the party is over.”
Devereaux let her take two steps before he warned her, “Shifters will be waiting at your place. The protection you had before is gone. I told you this already. You’re fair game.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “What protection?”
He motioned to Salvatore and the others. This wasn’t a conversation Devereaux wanted to have with so many other vamps present. They slid silently away, and he advanced on his prey. His hand rose and curled around her shoulder. “What do you know about your father?”
She looked back at him. “He didn’t want me.”
Devereaux stiffened.
“He lied to my mother. Betrayed her. When he found out that she was pregnant with me, he vanished. Just ran away.”
So many lies.
And he was going to tell her more. He’d known that, from the beginning, yet now Devereaux found that he was hesitant to trick her. Yes, he had to get her to do what he wanted but…
I don’t want to lie to her. She’s been hurt enough.
If she’d just be his queen, he’d make sure she never hurt again.
But what if I’m the one hurting her? The thought—sudden and cold—cut right through him.
“Dev?” Lark turned to fully face him. Her hand rose and pressed to his chest, right near his heart. A heart that beat faster when she touched him. “What’s wrong?”
“He didn’t leave you.” His voice was gruff as Devereaux added, “He got a deal for you. Every paranormal was supposed to stay the hell away from you. No touching at all. Until you were twenty-six.”
She blinked. Her hand fell from him and pressed to her side. To the scars he knew were there.
“The shifters who attacked you must have been mad from hunger and captivity. They broke the accord—”
“My mother is the one who tortured them. They thought I was doing the same.” She shook her head, and he could practically see her mind spinning.
“When I was sixteen and my mother was attacked by the coyotes—they circled me. They were snarling and growling as I crouched over her body. I-I was trying to protect her. I’d gotten to the scene too late.
She’d called me. Asked me to come. Told me that I had to prove myself.
” Her breath came faster. “I hadn’t been on a hunt in years.
By the time I found her, it was too late.
She was barely alive. I covered her, and the shifters didn’t come any closer.
I stayed with my body over hers until dawn. They left when the sun rose.”
He ached for the pain she felt. Devereaux could hear the grief in her voice.
“She whispered that I should have killed them all.” Her lips trembled. “Then she died in my arms. It was just the two of us. My father was gone. Always gone. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead.”
Devereaux didn’t speak.
“I don’t get why he’d work out any kind of deal for me. Especially when he never wanted me—”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” Devereaux cut in. “Your mother didn’t always deal in truth. Not when it came to monsters.”
Her eyes widened. Oh, hell. He’d just said the wrong thing.
“My father was a human,” Lark said flatly.
Was that what her mother had told her?
“He wasn’t a monster.”
It sounded as if Lark was trying to convince herself of that fact. Devereaux pressed his lips together. He just didn’t want to hurt her anymore.
“I’m leaving, Dev. Get out of my way. Look, I appreciate the help you gave me. And since I gave you my blood, let’s just call it even, all right?”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t barter your blood with anyone else. Not ever.” If another vamp so much as tried to bite her—
She glanced upward with a roll of her eyes. “Yeah, well, that wasn’t exactly on my to-do list, so no worries there.”
He didn’t get out of her way. “Your father made a deal with the paranormals. None of us could touch you, not until your twenty-sixth birthday. He wanted you to have a chance to decide for yourself just what sort of life you’d have.”
Now she frowned at him. “Not saying I buy this story…”
“Have I lied to you so far?” A very careful question. Because he was already twisting the truth. But sometimes, white lies were for the best.
Her suspicious—and very cute—frown deepened. “How would he have convinced all the monsters to go along with him?”
“He paid.” A brutal truth. “In blood. Because that’s how much you matter to him.”
“Wait!” Now her lips had parted and surprise flashed on her face. “You just said…matter. Not mattered. As in, present tense.”
Shit.
“My father is alive?”
A grim nod. Alive-ish. That didn’t truly count as a lie, did it? More like, semantics.
“You know where he is?”
And Devereaux saw his opening. His chance. He gave her a kind smile. “For the right price, I would even take you to him.”
“That price…it had better not be my blood.”
As much as he loved that delicious treat… “No, sweetheart. You want to find him? Fine. Then marry me, and I’ll take you to your father.”