Chapter 7
Iwoke to the low murmur of voices, my brain filled with cotton. I lay there with my eyes closed, listening to a deep, familiar voice that lulled me in and out of consciousness.
“…very fortunate, indeed. Have Zola scout the location. It’s too much to hope Hassan is alive, but we owe it to him to try.”
My body was cocooned in soft, fluffy warmth.
“She’ll be quick about it,” came the answering voice.
“Yes, we may be ready to move against them tonight—tomorrow at the latest.” A few more murmurs were exchanged.
My brain began to sharpen, thoughts crystalizing one after another.
I recalled who the voices belonged to. Then, why I was hearing them—why I was here.
That awful realization made me aware of the ache radiating from my neck.
My eyelids fluttered.
“She’s waking up,” Laurent’s voice said nearby. “Go and speak with Zola.”
“Yes, Sire.”
My eyes flew open, fixing on the coffered ceiling. I swallowed against the sandpaper feeling in my mouth. My tongue seemed to stick to the roof.
“Here.”
A hand slipped gently beneath my shoulders, lifting me. The rim of a glass was pressed against my lips. I opened instinctively. Cool water met my tongue. I took a few swallows and whimpered.
“I know it hurts,” Laurent said, keeping his voice low. He retreated, settling me back into position. I lifted my hand to find a padded bandage.
“You… You saved…my life.” I managed, my voice scratchy. I wasn’t about to thank him, though.
He leaned forward in his chair, studying me.
“The doctor informs me you will make a full recovery. Unfortunately, the damage was extensive. I fear that when I ripped Henrietta off you, she took some flesh with her.” I made a sound in the back of my throat.
“There will be scarring. But something tells me that is of no consequence to you.”
I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut. I was alive. Given everything that had happened, scarring was the least of my worries.
“You’ll be stuck in bed for a few days, I’m afraid.” He didn’t sound particularly bothered by my confinement.
I let out an angry huff. “Can’t escape if I’m stuck.”
“No, I daresay you cannot. Do you recall our conversation before you fell unconscious?” His piercing silver gaze burrowed into me and I nodded. “Good.”
He leaned back, getting comfortable. Today he was dressed in a billowing white shirt, open at the throat, sleeves rolled up to his elbow, like something off the cover of the ten cent paperback romance novels I collected.
“I’m curious, how long have you lived in Braxton?”
I licked my lips and said, “Three years.”
“And before that?”
“Tioa City.” It was a small agricultural town a couple of hours east. Most people hadn’t even heard of it.
He appeared thoughtful, running a hand along his jaw. “I found you at a college party. You are a university student, then?”
“Yes, a spoiled party brat.”
He made a humming noise.
“I take it the rumors about vampires and sunlight weren’t actually true.” The bitterness in my voice was unmistakable.
He huffed. “Obviously.”
“So, it doesn’t bother you then?”
“It’s annoying, more so for vampires than humans. But we can manage. Sunglasses help.”
I held back a sneer. How stupid to assume they wouldn’t catch me. To assume they’d be tucked away in coffins. That I had a fighting chance. That’s why Laurent had left my door unlocked.
I swallowed. It hurt like hell and made me wince.
“You’d better get some rest. I’ll leave you.” He stood, returning the chair to the breakfast table. Before he left, he paused at my door. “Someone will be along later to check on you. Good day, Miss Shaw.”
I waited until I was certain he was gone before letting my vision blur.
A tear slid from the corner of my right eye, down my temple.
Another followed, until silent sobs wracked my body.
It hurt, but I couldn’t help it. My whole body ached after getting a chunk taken out of me, but that wasn’t why I cried.
A soft knock sounded.
I cursed, wiping at my eyes. “Come in.”
Zola slipped inside. I tucked my hands beneath the comforter, blowing out a breath.
“Oh, darling.” Her words were soft. She took a seat on the side of my bed, placing a bottle of painkillers on the nightstand. Her fingers brushed a fresh tear from the corner of my eye. “Everything will be all right, you’ll see.”
Then she leaned in and kissed my forehead. The gesture was tender, like a mother kissing a child. It made me want to cry all over again.
“Nothing will be all right.”
“Oh, stop it,” she said, her voice firming up. “He doesn’t deserve your tears. No one does. You’re stronger than this—you have no choice but to be strong. You are an amplifier. There is no easy road ahead of you.”
While I hated the truth of her words, I knew she spoke them out of concern.
“There, that’s better.” She patted me through the comforter.
“Why… Why are you being so nice to me?”
She chuckled. “Because Laurent is an asshole. He’s often cruel. He forgets that there are more problems in the world than his own. But…” She sighed. “He hasn’t had much choice in the matter. It is a heavy responsibility, being the head of a great household.”
“A household?”
“House Sarkas. We are the second oldest vampiric household in the world, and arguably the strongest, perhaps even the greatest. The houses have been dying for centuries. A thousand years ago there were nearly fifteen. Now? A mere five. Laurent has kept ours from dying for a very, very long time.”
“Oh.” was all I could manage.
“Yes, you do not keep a household alive without cruelty, cunning, strength…”
My mouth fell open slightly.
He hadn’t been…completely awful to me. Hard and unyielding, yes. Selfish, obviously, doing what was best for him. But he could have locked me up in chains, mistreated me, hurt me. Maybe that was coming. I glanced around, taking in my beautiful surroundings, the level of comfort he’d offered me—
“Now, what you need is something to take your mind off things while you’re stuck in bed. I’m afraid we won’t get that shopping spree I promised today. How about some television, hmm?”
I frowned. A vampire dressed from the roaring twenties asking if I wanted to watch TV? It felt absurd. She opened the nightstand drawer and fished out two remotes. She clicked one.
“Oh,” I breathed.
A humming filled the air as a television screen rose from the wooden stand at the end of the bed. Her mouth twitched. “I’m guessing you weren’t expecting that?” I shook my head. “Here, this one is for the TV. The streaming apps are already programmed, so you can watch whatever you want.”
“Okay.” It was a weak whisper.
“I have a few matters of business, but I’ll be home later to check on you, yes?”
I studied her face, her delicate features, her tiny button nose, her large, dark eyes. “Thank you.”
“And don’t forget these.” She helped me take two painkillers, lifting me gently the way Laurent had to chase them with a few sips of water, then left. I waited until she was gone to stagger to my feet and visit the bathroom.
Everything hurt, but somehow I completed the task and collapsed back into bed.
Grabbing the remote, I flipped through the channels and settled for reruns of Shadowlands. To think, I’d stupidly believed Laurent was cosplaying the elf king. Maybe if I hadn’t been so naive, I could have bought myself time to escape Kase’s room. Run out onto the landing and scream for help.
And yet, deep down I already knew. He would have caught me easily. Things would have played out exactly as they did.
Eventually, my eyelids began to droop and I dozed off.
Dozing felt good. The perfect escape from it all.
The light in the room changed, but I was only vaguely aware of it. Entire hours slipped by in blissful oblivion until a string of words startled me awake.
“We begin our evening broadcast to bring you an update on last night’s murder at the Yoshiki mansion.”
I jerked upright, scrambling for the remote, increasing the volume.
I stared as a newscaster began reporting on site.
The familiar Yoshiki mansion materialized, swarming with news vans and police.
My brain sharpened, a furrow forming between my brows.
“Investigators are still at work, interviewing those present at the scene of the crime. Daniel Burgos’s body was found in Kase Yoshiki’s bedroom, his neck broken—“
My mind flashed back to Laurent bursting into that room and everything that had happened afterward. He’d told me not to worry about Daniel.
“…several witnesses saw him go into the bedroom with a young woman. Lily Winifred Shaw remains at large, a potential suspect in the possible murder.” My photo flashed on screen.
Then the news cut to shaky cell phone footage—Laurent carrying me over his shoulder down the grand staircase while people cheered.
“Social media videos from the party show Shaw being carried away by an unidentified male in what witnesses initially thought was a staged performance.”
I couldn’t stop staring, eyes wide with horror.
The reporter continued, “This has led to speculation about whether Shaw was involved in Burgos’s death, or if she may be another victim. The identity of the man in the footage remains unknown, and Shaw’s whereabouts are still unclear.”
My body went numb. Daniel was dead, and I was the prime suspect.
“Oh, fuck!” I cried, forcing myself to move.
The covers were ripped away. I glanced down at myself—barefoot, dressed in a pair of leggings and a different T shirt than earlier. I gathered my strength, ready to raise hell.
The door was unlocked. I left my room, striding through the manor. Laurent looked up when I barged into his office, though he didn’t appear surprised. There wasn’t a single shard of emotion in his empty expression. “Miss Shaw, you should be resting—“