Chapter 22
Amara
After the fiasco out in the countryside, Dylan’s crew had apparently decided that I needed a babysitter when my actual wife wasn’t around to keep an eye on me. We’d barely had time to pull our clothes on, let alone discuss what had gone down between us before one of the Leyore members came knocking on the motel door.
We’d been driven back to the city in the blink of an eye, and Dylan had been whisked off for an emergency meeting the moment we arrived at the apartment. I’d been left in the company of one Maxine Belmonte.
Dylan hadn’t been gone very long but it felt like an eternity with the dainty young woman yapping away beside me. Maxine’s lips moved a hundred miles an hour and she jumped from one topic to the next with the attention span of a cocker spaniel.
I had no idea there was so much to be said about shoes. And bags. And “Have you considered getting your nails done? I know a great place on Fifth Avenue…”
There was little time to contemplate everything that had happened, not with Maxine grilling me on my skincare routine. I found myself wandering into the kitchen under the guise of making coffee, desperate for a moment alone to think. I left the other woman lounging on the sofa, eyeing the blood-streaked carpet with a scandalized grimace.
I rifled around the sparse cupboards in search of coffee beans, ruminating on the complicated spider's web I’d found myself caught in. Dylan was a vampire – vampires were real. Were there more? Did the Leyore gang know what she was, or was it a secret?
And what about the dragon shifters, did my father have something to do with them? What exactly did Don know? Also, was Maxine part of the Leyore syndicate? She carried herself like a pampered poodle, not a cutthroat peddler of narcotics.
And most importantly – What happens now?
Against all odds, Dylan had secured a place in my heart. I couldn’t put her at the mercy of my father. I couldn’t tell Don what she really was. Unless he already knew…
I slammed a coffee mug down on the counter. Putting the pieces together made my head hurt.
When the coffee was done brewing and I had no legitimate excuse to avoid her any longer, I trudged back into the living room to face Maxine, stealing myself for another torrent of word vomit I could barely make sense of.
But I was not fated to tolerate another word about the latest Louis Vuitton, as the front door swung open and Dylan barged in like a mad woman. When her bright eyes alighted on me, her face lit up like a Christmas tree, and she stumbled through the door in a kind of giddy stupor.
“I’m so sorry!” She tried to sign the words, but her arms were laden with shopping bags and they swung all over the place as she gestured. She dumped them unceremoniously on the floor, speaking and signing with sympathetic sincerity. “I can’t believe I left you alone with the most annoying woman alive.”
Maxine glanced up from a home decor magazine she had pulled from God knows where, curiously tilting her head at the pile of bags at Dylan’s feet.
“Always a pleasure, Dylan.” I watched her pink lips purse as she spoke, shimmering lip gloss perfectly applied. She swept an arm at the blood still smeared on the floorboards. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”
“What’s all this?” I signed to Dylan, gesturing at the pile of bags.
“Your new wardrobe,” she signed back with an exaggerated flourish. “And an outfit for the ceremony.”
Maxine was at my shoulder before I could blink, pushing me aside and directing what looked like fearsome words at Dylan. “I can’t believe you! You went shopping and you didn’t even think to consult with me first?”
We both ignored her, and I knelt to inspect the colorful fabric spilling from one of the bags. I squinted up at Dylan, baffled by her cheery mood and sudden generosity.
“What’s wrong with my wardrobe?” I signed before my curiosity got the better of me and I tugged a silky something from the nearest shopping bag.
“You own five items of clothing and most of it is pajamas.” Dylan’s hands moved awkwardly, but a teasing smile played on her lips.
I offered a withering glare in response, but she did have a point. Also, she just confessed to going through my belongings. I filed that away to hold over her head later.
But all of my grievances fell away when I pulled a glistening garment from the fancy bag. It was an evening dress, all gauze and silk, lilac like the sky after sundown. Tiny silver beads sparkled like dewdrops. The gesture dislodged something in my chest, like somewhere deep down a door was opened.
I stared up at Dylan, mouth agape at the lavish gift.
Dylan was watching me with a soft smile, her usual guarded expression replaced by something tender. She looked… elated. Like she’d been carrying the world on her shoulders and suddenly the weight was lifted.
“Thank you,” I gestured slowly, touching tentative fingers to my lips. “It’s beautiful.”
Dylan shrugged, shoving her hands in her back pockets like it wasn’t a big deal. But her eyes shone with a light I’d never seen before. It looked good on her. She looked alive in a way I thought was impossible.
My heart did a flip in my chest, and I clutched the dress tightly, running fingers over the soft fabric. Like Dylan, I had tried restraint, tried to hold back the floodgates that threatened to buckle for her and her alone.
But the feelings were there, spilling out of my heart in volumes. There was no cramming it back in now.
That afternoon, I found myself at the public library, tapping away at a computer with Maxine hovering over my shoulder. Dylan was called out again to help prepare for the gathering and I was apparently to be kept under surveillance while she was out. She didn’t say as much, but when I stepped out of the apartment Maxine followed – conveniently, she had business to attend to at the library too.
I shifted in my seat, the glow of the screen punishing my tired eyes as I typed an email to my agent. There was only so much I could say with Maxine fluttering near my elbow, but I filled them in on an idea I’d had for a new story.
Maybe I could pitch it after this show is greenlit. When is that happening by the way?
Not pathetic at all. I hit send, leaning back in the chair and rubbing my temples. I still had no idea what to do about Dylan, or Don for that matter. This tug-of-war was getting out of hand, and I could not pick one side without causing dire consequences for the other. But there was no time to dwell on that now. I had more pressing concerns to address.
Maxine had missed her hair appointment.
She swept out of the library with a flurry of apologies, promising to be back for me in an hour or so. I molded my expression to one of solemn acceptance until she disappeared out the door.
With nothing better to do, I hung around the library for a while longer, relishing the blissful solitude while I had it. I tried looking up vampires and dragon shifters online, but the internet was surprisingly lacking when it came to any tangible knowledge on the subject. The first thing to pop up was a list of romance books, detailing harrowing love stories filled with hungry vampires and swooning heroines. My cheeks burned and I quickly closed the tab.
I prowled the bookshelves for a while, browsing for nothing in particular, when I glimpsed a familiar face between the shelves. I wrenched my hand back like I’d been scathed and rounded the corner, breath catching in my throat when I found myself face to face with my father.
"Amara." Don’s lips moved with a forced precision, strained and stern, but readable. "I think we’re due for a chat."
Before I could react, he grabbed my arm and yanked me between the bookshelves, secreting us away from any prying eyes. His grip was firm and I could see the anger simmering just beneath his controlled exterior.
"Tell me, I’m curious – “ His lips moved swiftly, and I could see the anger etched into every line of his face. “Why did my last message to you go unanswered?"
I yanked my arm away, rubbing at the ache he’d left with his tight grip. I pulled out my phone, opening the app with shaking fingers and typing a feeble response. “There wasn’t anything new to report.”
Don’s eyes narrowed and his features contorted into a scowl. “Don’t lie to my face.”
I searched over his shoulder for help, desperate for Maxine, someone – anyone. But the library was empty that afternoon and Don had me trapped between the bookshelves, backing me up until my shoulders hit the wall behind me.
He hissed the words, spittle flying from his lips as he towered over me. “Where were you yesterday?”
I shrank away from him, scrambling for the right words to get him off my back. I couldn’t tell him about Dylan. And I didn’t want to. Not anymore, not after everything we’d been through. But his question was worrying.
Don looked disheveled, frantic. His shirt was half buttoned and his hair uncharacteristically unkempt like he’d left home in a rush to come find me. Most likely he’d interrogated Carlo on my whereabouts – the bulky guy had driven me to the library often enough to know my schedule. But why would Don show up at all? In my father’s eyes, everyone including his daughter was a dog to be brought to heel, but it wasn’t like him to lose his cool over one unanswered text.
I searched my father’s eyes, a new thought occurring amid my panic. Did he know we went to the warehouse yesterday? And if that was true, what else was my father not telling me?
“I was back at the apartment. I’m not sure where Dylan went but she was gone for a while.” I forced myself to stay calm and typed again, feigning innocence. “Why? Did something happen?”
Naive, it turned out, was not the right move at all. Don slammed a fist into the bookshelf to his right. I couldn't hear him, but it was clear he raised his voice. I saw taut veins in his forehead when his lips moved again. “Don’t play dumb with me, Amara! This is bigger than you think.”
I stared in silence, my mind rushing to put together the right words to appease him. But there was never a right move with Don. Everything from my facial expression to my posture to my choice of words was an excuse to start an argument. Nothing was good enough.
When I made no effort to respond, second-guessing myself at every turn, Don’s lip curled in disgust. He spoke slowly for once, but it wasn’t for my sake. “Don’t tell me you’re protecting her.”
His words caught me by surprise, and the brief flicker of emotion was all Don needed to pounce.
“For the love of god, Amara, are you going to throw yourself at every person who shows you the slightest bit of attention?”
I winced at his words, focusing on his lips rather than trying to hold his gaze. He’d see the truth there, and that would be disastrous. More worrying than that, he knew all the right pressure points to make me doubt myself.
Don ran a hand through his tousled hair, disappointment twisting his features like I was a petulant child he had to discipline. His mouth moved rapidly, but I couldn’t hear his words. I could only feel the heat of his anger radiating off him.
I typed again, one last play at peace while I at least had his attention. “I just think this marriage was meant to keep the peace. I know it was a ruse, but maybe we could actually try and stick to it? Dylan – the Leyore people, they’re not so bad –”
I didn’t get a chance to finish typing. Don’s hand came out of nowhere, delivering a stinging slap to the side of my face. I froze in shock, my cheek aching where his hand had connected.
“I had no idea my own daughter had such low standards.” His mouth moved and I stood stiff, barely registering the slap despite the stinging sensation on my skin. “You’re sticking with the enemy now – why? Because they haven’t treated you as badly as they could have? Is the absence of cruelty equal to kindness in your eyes?”
His words hit home. There was some truth to them and I couldn’t deny that. He could see right through me. Don saw my expression and his mouth stretched wide as he laughed. “So it’s true then? What a fucking joke.”
I’m not sure what I would have done if he’d continued. The sad truth was that my father was an expert at getting under my skin, always sowing seeds of doubt to keep others out and keep me under his thumb.
But before Don could say another word, he was interrupted.
The librarian appeared like a guardian angel, stalking down the aisle to tap him on the shoulder. I had never been so happy to see the prim old lady in all her floral print glory.
She said something to Don and he glanced at me, his anger momentarily abating in the presence of company. This wasn’t his study or the dining room back at that haunted mansion of his. Out here, he could only get away with so much before someone noticed the monster among them.
The librarian wore a scowl that rivaled my father’s, her lips moving rapidly as she gestured toward the exit. I could tell she was scolding him, and I felt a small thrill of satisfaction at seeing him put in his place.
Don's hand twitched as if he wanted to drag me out with him, but instead he ran it through his hair, taking in a deep breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, satin-clad box, keeping an eye on the frowning librarian as he handed it to me.
“I only wanted to give you this – for the upcoming ceremony,” he said stiffly, the fury in his eyes barely contained. “Think of it as a belated wedding gift. Wear it when the time is right, to honor your mother.”
I stared at the box, taken aback. The gift was a curveball, unheard of from my father; it was the last thing I expected. Hesitantly, I accepted the box and turned it over in my hands.
When I looked up again, Don nodded curtly and walked away, leaving me standing there in a state of confusion with a concerned librarian hovering beside me.
Back at the apartment, I paced circles around the living room, my mind racing with everything that had happened. Dylan was still out and so was Maxine, and I was left to untangle my thoughts in peace. I sat on the sofa and pulled out the satin box, inspecting it closely.
The fabric was smooth and luxurious, the kind of thing my sister would have treasured. My fingers traced the edges before I opened it hesitantly. Inside, nestled in velvet, was an ornate perfume bottle. It looked vaguely familiar, something from a half-remembered childhood, one of many memories scattered to the wind.
I carefully lifted it out, turning it in my hands. My father had told me to wait until the ceremony to wear it, and that made me suspicious. What if it was some kind of chemical agent meant to cause trouble at the gathering? Knowing Don, it very well could be. I sprayed a little onto my fingers and sniffed it hesitantly.
The wave of nostalgia hit me like a punch to the gut.
I inhaled deeply, a rich blend of jasmine, vanilla, and a hint of musk nearly bringing me to tears. It was my mother’s perfume, a scent I had long forgotten, perfectly preserved alongside dozens of buried memories. A time capsule.
The feeling was bittersweet, one crippling emotion giving way to the next. The memory of my mother, the pain of her absence. I was too young to truly understand the weight of it. And another conflicting factor, this genuinely kind gesture had come from my father, of all people.
I sprayed a little more and walked into the mist, closing my eyes as memories of my childhood flooded back. I remembered my mother’s gentle hands, her soft voice reading bedtime stories, building pillow forts with Aliyah at my side. The scent brought it all back, and I couldn’t help but tear up.
Lost in my own head, I didn’t notice Dylan emerging from the shadows until she was right beside me.
I turned to her, a smile forming on my lips. I moved my hands in greeting and paused. A chill shivered through my body when I took in her appearance.
There was something off about her. Her eyes were dark, almost hungry. But it wasn’t the insatiable sensation of lust, she was poised like a predator waiting to strike. I froze, my heart hammering in my chest.
Dylan was deadly still, a stone statue with eyes that tracked my every movement, a terrifying hunter cloaked in shadows. Her gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made my blood run cold.
She was motionless until she wasn’t.
The transition happened in a heartbeat, and I could do nothing but shriek when her fangs came out and Dylan lunged for my throat.