Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
For a long time, the only sound in the cell was the tink tink of Cecilia’s spoon hitting the bottom of her bowl.
She sat against the wall, her bandaged legs crossed in front of her and the plain white cereal bowl in hand.
Her captor, Sloane, stood rigidly by the door until she snapped at him to sit down.
Cecilia didn’t actually expect him to listen, but she wasn’t altogether surprised when he immediately sank to the ground to mimic her pose.
She’d never excelled at much. School didn’t come easily to her, and she had no natural talents to speak of. The only skill Cecilia had ever reliably called upon was reading people.
And Sloane, despite his facelessness and voice modulator, was becoming increasingly easy to read.
Eyeing him as she crunched on the cereal he’d placed at her feet like a cat drops a mouse, Cecilia tilted her head slightly to get a better look at him. One eye had begun to swell, thanks to Duke’s handiwork, but it didn’t impair her sight too much as she took him in.
“So… what’s the plan here, champ?” She lifted the bowl for a long sip of artificial fruit-flavored milk.
“To keep you safe.” That flat, modulated voice grated against her nerves almost as much as his answer did.
Lowering her now empty bowl to the floor, Cecilia crossed her arms. “You said that already, but that’s not a plan. Try again.”
There was a long pause. She could almost feel his gaze searching her face, trying to determine exactly what kind of response she wanted. It was almost as vivid as the sensation of his flat, raspy tongue sliding along her throat that just wouldn’t leave her.
“You will stay here until it’s safe to leave,” he amended.
“What or who are you protecting me from, exactly?”
He had an answer to that question immediately. “Everything.”
Cecilia took a deep breath. “Okay. Right. So let’s just… start from the top. You’ve been stalking me for at least a year, right?”
“Guarding you,” he corrected.
“Right,” she dragged out. “Following me to and from work. Watching me through my windows. Other creepy shit, I’m sure.” Cecilia looked at her hands, which rested in the folds of her bunched up mini dress. Picking at her sparkly pink nail polish, she muttered, “I noticed.”
His helmet seemed to scrub his voice of all inflection, but she still thought there was an edge of disbelief in it when he said, “Impossible. I’m very good.”
“At killing things, maybe, but not hiding from a woman’s intuition. We know when we’re being followed, champ.”
The faint sound of creaking leather drew her gaze to his fist curling against the concrete floor. “If you knew I was following you, why did you continue to meet up with strangers in secluded places?”
Cecilia slapped her thigh and let out a crow of satisfaction. “I knew it! I knew you were messing with my dates!”
Ever since her last disastrous attempt to satisfy that danger-loving desire that seemed to want to destroy her life — in this instance, a brief and toxic relationship with an orcish biker named Crash, of all things — she’d vowed to find a good, normal man.
She wanted to be a teacher in the cut-throat world of San Francisco’s education system, then to have a home and kids.
Chasing the worst man in the room at every opportunity was incompatible with those dreams.
But the dates stopped calling her back. Then they began to reschedule. And then they stopped showing up altogether.
It felt like paranoia to suspect her phantom, but after the third man stood her up, Cecilia couldn’t think of what else it could possibly be. She was a dyed in the wool charmer and bon vivant.
It certainly wasn’t her.
So it was deeply satisfying to have her theory validated when Sloane leaned forward and replied with absolutely zero shame, “Men are threats. I eliminated them.”
The dizzying high of getting an answer to a question that had plagued her for months was quickly squashed. Blood draining from her cheeks, she whispered, “Oh gods, you didn’t kill them, did you?”
She really, really didn’t like how long it took him to answer.
“No. There was no need. It was easy to convince them it was in their best interests to leave you alone.”
I bet it was, she thought with a shudder. Her last potential date was with a math teacher, of all things. She couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like for someone like him to be confronted with Sloane.
Rubbing her eyes, Cecilia muttered, “I’m a normal person, Sloane. I’m not under constant threat. Those guys were just guys. Ones I specifically picked because of how nonthreatening they were, I might add. I don’t need whatever protective duty you’ve decided to slap on me.”
“You were attacked in your home,” he replied, so fast it seemed like the modulator momentarily struggled to keep up with him.
Those powerful shoulders bunched around his ears, pulled up by an invisible string of tension.
“You were beaten and threatened by three vampires. If I hadn’t resumed my post, you could’ve been killed or worse — therefore making your statements are untrue. ”
Cecilia ran her fingers through her hair. They still trembled faintly, though she couldn’t tell whether that was a result of an adrenaline crash or a side effect of Sloane’s handy sedative.
She hadn’t exactly had a minute to really digest everything that’d happened with Duke and his gang of bullies.
It seemed a lot less immediate than the fact that she’d been drugged and kidnapped by the man who’d ripped them to pieces.
But when Sloane said it like that, she was taken back to that moment in the chair when Duke raised the pistol, and the crack of it when he struck her cheek.
He would’ve done worse to her. Whatever was necessary, in his mind, to get what he believed he was owed. And then when he got it, he would’ve killed her to get revenge on Dahlia.
A wave of nausea forced her to draw up her legs and place her head between her knees.
He would’ve made it an awful death, she realized, swallowing bile.
The thought of what that would’ve done to Dahlia was worse than any ephemeral pain. Death would put an end to that quick enough, but Dahlia’s wounds would never heal.
They’d been inseparable for nearly their entire lives. They’d been family when their blood relatives weren’t. To know that bond had been so close to being weaponized made her want to throw up every Fruity Crunchum she’d spooned into her gullet.
Blowing out a calming breath, she said, “Okay, fair. I can see why you think the exception proves the rule in this one instance. It doesn’t, to be clear, but I see how it looks.
And I… I mean, I’m grateful, obviously. Thank you for saving my life.
But you can see why everything you did after that has been a little distressing, right? ”
“I could see that you were distressed,” he answered in a very non-answer kind of way.
She sighed. “Yeah, I guess that was expecting a bit too much.”
“Why were you attacked? I need more information to accurately assess the present threat.”
Cecilia looked up from between her knees. His dark visor revealed nothing, but she imagined she could still see that burning eye beneath the plasma-proof glass. She could certainly still feel his tongue.
“There is no threat anymore. And it’s a really long story,” she croaked.
Sloane didn’t miss a beat. “I only require pertinent details. Proceed.”
She wasn’t sure why that was so funny or why that felt so very Sloane, a man she only knew from shadows in the corner of her eye or a gleam of something that shouldn’t be there on the rooftop across from her apartment. And yet she snorted with laughter anyway.
The bizarre reality of the entire situation was finally catching up to her, she thought. The attack, the grisly murder, the kidnapping, the cell… Now a bowl of cereal and a stilted conversation had finally pushed her straight over the edge.
Getting the words out from between huffs of laughter, she explained, “My boss— my old boss, Devon — wanted to get with my best friend Dah—”
“Dahlia McKnight, arrant, blonde, white, under six foot, apartment 4F, server at The Lush and student enrolled in a business program. Visited your apartment one to four times a week, recent witness of the assassination of Yvanna Amauri. Approved for visitation based on your apparent familiarity, lack of criminal record, and established routines. Recently absent. I marked that as a concern to follow up on.” Sloane inclined his head.
The fairy lights glittered in the shiny glass dome that kept him hidden. “Continue.”
Trying very hard not to be derailed by that deeply unsettling string of accurate information about her friend, Cecilia muttered, “She got turned into— uh, you probably know that, I guess. Anyway, she’s with this super scary vampire named Felix, who caught Devon hassling her and…”
Sloane made a sound that might’ve been a hum if not for the modulator. “He eliminated the threat.”
There was no way to tell if there was real approval in his voice or if that was just her imagination. The chances were good that it was real, though.
“Exactly,” she continued, resting her chin on her knees. “But then Devon’s big brother came looking for him. Dahlia isn’t around because she moved in with her husband — which is really rude, by the way. His cousins packed up all her stuff so I don’t even get to steal her clothes anymore.
“Did I like looking at them while they packed it all up? Yes, of course. I have two eyes, a heart, and a deeply unsatisfying sex life. Is it still messed up that she abandoned me with no notice? I think so. Not that I’m not happy for her, obviously, because I really, really am.
But you know we had a plan, right? How are we gonna raise our kids together if she’s across the continent with her new vampire family and I’m here single and alone and fucking miserable—”
Cecilia cleared her throat. Good gods, I think I need more of that sedative.
Embarrassed by her little outburst of vulnerability, she tried to get back on track. “Anyway… You met Duke. He thought a good way to get Dahlia and Felix to tell him what happened to his brother was to— Well, you saw.”
It took her a second to place a faint ticking sound. It came from the steady beat of Sloane drumming his metal claw-caps against the concrete floor.
Speaking slowly, he confirmed, “So this was not tied to any outstanding debts that might’ve been owed to the vampire syndicate?”
Cecilia shook her head. She’d done some reckless stuff in her day, for sure, but she’d never been desperate — or foolish — enough to borrow money from the brothers who owned the bar.
“The attack wasn’t motivated by any criminal activity or wider interest by other parties?”
“Not that I know of,” she replied, grimacing. “Duke and Devon weren’t exactly well-connected. And to be honest, I think even the criminals they associated with would be relieved that at least Devon is gone, if not both of them.”
“So you don’t believe there are any outstanding threats against you now. What about retribution for Duke’s elimination?”
Eyeing him, she muttered, “You know, I really don’t enjoy how you use that word.”
Sloane’s head tilted slightly to one side. “Heard. I will try to use the word threats less in the future.”
“Why is that the word you think— Actually, no. Not important.” A little chilled after sitting for so long on the heat-sucking concrete, Cecilia gave herself something to do and ran her palms briskly up and down her bandaged legs.
“No, I don’t anticipate retribution. I guess it’s not out of the question, considering I know virtually nothing about Duke or Devon’s personal lives, but it seems unlikely. They both kinda sucked.”
“What about Felix?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What about him?”
“He’s clearly dangerous.”
Cecilia sat completely upright. Alarmed by the turn in conversation, she exclaimed, “Not to me. Felix would probably jump in front of a train for me — and I haven’t even officially met the guy.
But he’d do it for Dahlia, no questions asked.
Good gods, the man keeps trying to give me a new apartment and sometimes even money when he thinks I won’t notice. He’s not a threat!”
“You’re arrant,” Sloane replied, claws stilling their restless motion. “Everyone is a threat to you.”
“Newsflash, champ, but of the two of you, I’m pretty sure you’re the one with the higher body count. So if anyone’s a threat to me, it’s you.” Cecilia gestured wildly toward the room, her gaze roving around the bare gray walls. “When Felix kidnapped Dahlia, at least he didn’t throw her in a cell!”
She half-expected him to deny it, or at least play the I’m your protector card again, but he didn’t.
Instead, Sloane rose up from the floor. His shoulders were stiff and his arms held perfectly straight by his sides when he announced, “Correct. I am the bigger predator. That’s why you need me.
There’s no one more qualified to keep you safe. ”
He turned away from her. In that lifeless robotic voice, he finished, “I’d burn this territory to the ground for you, Cece.”
Heart racing, Cecilia watched him move toward the door with wide eyes. “Where are you going? Are you locking me in again? Wait—”
“You’re cold,” he said, back to her. “You require more appropriate clothing. I’ll return shortly.”
Before she could argue — or worse, beg her captor to stay — he slipped out of the room. Cecilia fell back onto her butt with a shaky exhale.
“Damn it,” she hissed, dropping her head into her hands. “I really hope it doesn’t take him as long as it did to get the milk.”