13. Winnie #3
His eyes moved over me slowly. Too slowly.
I felt the shift immediately. The judgment. The amusement. The familiar sensation of becoming spectacle before a person.
His gaze lingered on my high collar. The black fabric covering nearly every inch of skin. Then he snorted.
“Damn,” he said. “Didn’t know it was Halloween already.”
I stared at him flatly.
“You think you could cover any more of your body?”
There it was. The thing men throughout centuries always eventually revealed. Mockery disguised as humor. Cruelty disguised as curiosity.
I considered several possible responses. Most of them involved significantly more homicide than the law allowed.
Suddenly, Conrad was behind me. “What did you just say?”
The delivery man blinked. Conrad stepped onto the porch, shutting the front door so the children wouldn’t overhear. I had never seen this expression on him before. It was cold, controlled, and filled with absolute fury.
The delivery man straightened awkwardly. “I was joking?—”
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
The man visibly recoiled. Conrad moved closer. “We do not comment on people’s bodies in this house. Especially not hers.”
My entire brain stopped functioning.
“Sir, I didn’t mean?—”
“You owe her an apology,” Conrad said evenly. “Now. Asshole.”
Oh. Oh my.
Something low in my stomach tightened so suddenly it startled me.
Nobody had defended servant girls in the 1800s.
Nobody defended governesses. Nobody defended strange women dressed all in black who made people uncomfortable.
Historically speaking, women like me were expected to endure humiliation politely and quietly.
And even now, centuries later, I was accustomed to being a curiosity. People stared, joked, and made assumptions. I handled it.
But Conrad?—
Conrad looked genuinely enraged on my behalf.
The delivery man swallowed hard and finally looked at me properly. “I’m sorry.”
I nodded once because speaking had suddenly become impossible. He handed over the packages awkwardly before retreating down the walkway with impressive speed.
Conrad turned toward me, all the anger draining from his expression so fast it gave me whiplash. “Are you all right?”
I realized belatedly I was slightly out of breath from shock and the rush of adrenaline. Also from the deeply alarming epiphany that protective competence was extremely attractive.
“I…” I cleared my throat. “I’m fine.”
His face tightened slightly. “You shouldn’t have had to hear that.”
“It’s not the first time.”
“That doesn’t make it acceptable.”
God. My undead heart thudded heavily against my ribs. Conrad stepped closer, gentler now.
His hand settled lightly on my arm. “You didn’t deserve that,” he murmured.
I looked up at him, seeing the frustration still lingering in his furrowed brows, the concern. The complete certainty that defending me had been automatic. There had been no hesitation or social calculation. Just immediate outrage on my behalf.
“You really frightened that poor man,” I managed weakly.
“Good.”
A startled laugh escaped me. Conrad smiled faintly, but his gaze remained serious.
“You’re special, Winnie. Don’t let idiots make you feel otherwise.”
The entire world narrowed to him and his hand on my arm.
I had been flirted with countless times over the past two centuries. Men had admired, desired, or even obsessed over me. But this? This felt horrifyingly different. This wasn’t about wanting something from me. It was about valuing me. That was infinitely more unsettling.
For one impossible moment, I thought he might kiss me. And judging from the way his eyes flicked briefly toward my mouth?—
He might have been thinking about it too.
“There’s a monster stuck in the walls!” Billie screamed from inside.
Conrad let go of my arm as if he’d been burned.
From the dining room, CJ yelled, “It’s a demon summoned from the depths of hell to exact revenge for centuries of imprisonment!”
Bianca’s exhausted sigh floated after them. “Billie’s dragon toy fell into the vent.”
Conrad closed his eyes briefly. “I should…”
“Yes,” I said faintly. “Probably.”
He hesitated another second anyway, then he went back inside. “What happened now?” he called.
Billie appeared around the corner holding a flashlight. “The beast consumed Senator Crunch.”
“His tiny screams haunt us still,” CJ said.
Bianca appeared in the foyer and went into the closet there. She came out with a screwdriver. “I can fix it.”
Conrad disappeared into the chaos. And I remained standing alone on the porch holding packages, while my heart continued beating far too fast for someone technically deceased.
After a long moment, I forced myself back into the kitchen. The onions still needed to be caramelized, and I had to check the loaves in the oven.
Yes, those were all normal things.
Safe things.
I gripped the edge of the sink for a second before exhaling slowly. Then I looked down at the spot on my arm where Conrad had touched me. Despite every ounce of common sense accumulated across nearly two centuries, I touched it gently with my fingertips and smiled.