Chapter 5 #3
“James has probably seen it firsthand at one of his vampire orgies,” I say with a chuckle, watching her cheeks redden by the second. “Still waiting on my invitation to one of those, by the way.”
She hides her face behind her glass, taking a gulp of whiskey.
An idea suddenly takes shape in my mind and I sit up with a start, eyes widening on James. “Wait. Have you and Lucien ever…?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he murmurs, his expression giving nothing away.
Honestly? Yes. I really would.
I can’t stand James as a person– mostly because Taylor’s supposed to be my soulmate, dammit– but pretending he isn’t insanely attractive would make me a liar.
Tay clears her throat loudly. “I think we’re getting a little off topic here,” she says, still adorably flustered.
“Agreed,” James replies smoothly. “We’ll find another candidate. Someone trustworthy who aligns more closely with the preferences listed in your donor profile. A live-in arrangement would be ideal.”
“Whoa, hold up,” I interject, shaking my head. “I’m not looking for a new place to live. I have roommates who depend on my share of the rent.”
“Your rent would be paid through your contract,” he clarifies.
“That’s… not the point,” I grumble. “I like my place. And my roommates.”
“You like fucking them, you mean,” Taylor says smugly, giving me a pointed look.
“Well yeah, but I like hanging out with them too. And Alaia gives me free manicures.” I glance down at the chipped polish on my nails, making a mental note to ask her for another soon. “We can do the whole source thing, but I’m good where I’m at.”
“Non-negotiable,” James says. “If there truly was someone outside your apartment this evening, then your location has already been compromised. Either way, you’ll need to vacate.”
I snort, jerking my head up to glare at him. “I think you forgot I don’t take orders from you.”
“It’s not about me.” His eyes flick toward Taylor. “If someone wants leverage against us, who do you think they’ll target first?”
My stomach sinks.
“You can’t put that on her,” Taylor mutters, frowning at him.
“He’s right, though,” I groan, scrubbing a hand down my face. “God, I hate when he makes sense.”
Taylor’s the closest thing I have to family. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her, and James fucking knows it, the bastard.
“Fine, you win.” I flop back against the couch, folding my arms. “Find some options and I’ll pick one.”
“Or maybe you could just stay here?” Taylor suggests, looking to James hopefully.
“I already have a source,” he murmurs, his arm tightening around her waist. “Vampires can only claim one, darling.”
She gazes up at him adoringly, her long lashes fluttering, and my gut twists. Because seeing her here, wrapped in cashmere and moonlight and vampire-king devotion, makes me feel two things at once.
Happy for her…
And left behind.
Which is so gross and selfish that I immediately shove it down where all ugly feelings belong, never to see the light of day again.
“Well,” I huff, pushing to my feet before James has a chance to brandish any more emotional blackmail. “Glad we solved that. I’ll just move in with some strange vampire and become a glorified Capri Sun. Love that for me.”
Taylor’s smile fades as she turns her gaze my way. “Bex…”
“I’m kidding.” Mostly. “This is fine. Everything is fine. My life is just taking a fun little detour into gothic nonsense.”
James watches me, eyes narrowing. “You use humor when you’re frightened,” he observes.
I level him with a glare. “And you use ultimatums when you’re being an asshole, yet here we are.”
“Bex,” Taylor warns, giving me a hard look.
“What?” I scoff. “He started it with the psychoanalysis.”
James doesn’t rise to the bait– which is irritating, because baiting him is one of my few remaining hobbies.
Instead, he leans forward to set his glass down, then rests his hand on Taylor’s hip.
Not possessive in the performative way some men are, or for my benefit.
Instinctive, like part of him always needs to be touching her to ensure she’s safe.
The gesture does something strange to my chest, softening it a little around the edges.
Because for all the reasons I don’t particularly like James Devereaux, there’s never been any question as to how he feels about Taylor.
He looks at my bestie like she hung the damn moon; like his entire world begins and ends with her heartbeat.
It’s disgustingly romantic.
Taylor relaxes against him, one hand absently smoothing over the front of his black button-down as if loving a bloodthirsty immortal is the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is, for her. And maybe that’s the part I’m still getting used to.
Not the mansion or the vampire king bullshit, but the fact that somehow, against all odds, Taylor found actual love. She found genuine happiness outside of the grimy little bubble we built for ourselves, and the bitch is thriving.
Getting close to vampires always seems to come with a cost, though. She’s forever bonded to James, but she’ll never be safe.
And I’m starting to realize that since we’re connected, neither will I.