Chapter 31 #2
Both our hosts were stoic and richly dressed.
Like all the other vampires I’d met, they carried an otherworldly aura about them, sure to draw eyes like a magnet.
While Catina had obvious Italian features with olive skin, Paolo looked more Eastern European.
Their eyes fell on me with obvious curiosity.
“So, this is her,” Catina said, appraising me.
“Lily, this is my sister and brother, Catina and Paolo.”
My lips parted, eyes darting between them. “It’s good to meet you,” I managed. I’d caught glimpses of their faces in a few of his memories.
“A bold move, Sarkas, bringing her into the heart of the vampire world,” Paolo said.
Laurent didn’t answer.
Catina and Paolo’s attention shifted over my shoulder. Catina smiled, open and joyous. “Vittorio! Little brother,” she sighed, opening her arms.
“Cat,” Vittorio growled, stepping into her embrace before greeting Paolo similarly.
“Come,” Catina said after the reunion was finished. “Let’s get inside before we attract attention.”
We emerged into a marble foyer about a third the size of the receiving hall back in Braxton.
My eyes flicked over everything, noting the obvious age of the place.
It looked like a museum, with statues and vases.
A thrill shot through me at the realization.
Everything in here had to be hundreds of years old—no, older than that—original artwork, original everything!
I wondered how many vampires had walked these halls, what secrets these walls had witnessed over the centuries.
I stole a peek into an adjacent room with sofas and floor to ceiling tapestries. This place was a historian’s dream. I didn’t know where to fix my gaze.
“How about a tour?” Laurent murmured against the shell of my ear, his thumb stroking the back of my hand.
“Yes,” I eagerly breathed.
“Vittorio, have our things deposited upstairs, please.”
“Yes, Sire.”
More greetings between the others were exchanged as we moved deeper into the home.
We left them behind as Laurent led me through several rooms on the bottom floor: a receiving room for guests, a kitchen, dining room, and small ballroom.
The second floor had a private drawing room for the family in residence, which served many purposes, including the house library.
There were also three suites. The third floor had six smaller guest chambers, with bathrooms split between them.
A small attic was neatly filled with boxes and other discarded, forgotten things.
I had an urge to come up here later and explore.
It felt magical to stumble upon a place like this, lost in time.
The townhouse was cozy, lived in.
“This will be our room,” Laurent said, bringing me back to the second floor. My pulse surged. Our room. I tried to tell myself it was because he wanted to keep me close, not because there were a limited number of accommodations and we were being economical.
The suite he’d showed me earlier now held my luggage, right next to a small suitcase of his.
He strode to the double doors and pulled them wide, heading out onto a balcony that overlooked the waterway below.
I glanced around, taking in the massive bed, large desk set into an alcove, the set of bookshelves, the sitting area, fireplace, and antique armoire.
There was an open door leading to a tiled bathroom. I peeked in, glancing over the aqua tile and massive claw foot tub. It was charming, vintage.
My eyes caught on a suit of armor beside the fireplace. I went to it, running my fingers over the cold metal. Something from the Middle Ages. It definitely wasn’t a replica. There were dents and blemishes. It had been kept well, but didn’t hide the realities of war.
Had this belonged to Laurent? I could only imagine how frightening he would look in something like this. His opponents would have been terrified to face him.
I left the room, following him out onto the balcony.
It spanned the length of our suite. My breath caught in my throat.
Boats passed by below, some of them gondolas, others carrying wares or passengers.
I wrapped my fingers around the iron railing and leaned over, inhaling the briny smell carried by the breeze.
A hand stroked down the length of my back. He’d been touching me a lot today. “Do you like it, little flower?” His voice was soft. There was something almost vulnerable in the way he waited for my answer, as if my opinion of his homeland mattered more than he wanted to admit.
“I love it—all of it,” I breathed. “Can’t we just stay here?”
“Some of the time we will, but I think you will like the fortress, too.”
I braced my forearms on the railing, looking out over the water. The view along the channel was spectacular. It curved at both ends, disappearing among tall buildings. I could stand up here for hours, watching people pass by in boats. Some were tourists, others were locals.
“Is this normally your room?” I asked when we went back in. I grabbed my suitcase and pulled my things out, hanging them in the armoire. It was already half filled with suits and other items that looked like Laurent’s.
“It is. It was my sire’s before mine. Perks of being the head of a household, I suppose. The others don’t always get the same room, depending on who comes and goes. Except for Catina and Paolo, who are in charge of caring for both this house and the fortress.”
“Your brother and sister.”
“In a loose sense of the word. We were all created by my father.”
“But your father wasn’t your biological father.”
“Correct. He was the male who remade me.”
“Hmm…” I looked him over, reminded of his memories. “He was an awful person, your father.” The words were out before I even processed what I’d said.
Laurent’s head twitched back, the movement almost too small to catch. His jaw tightened. “My father did what he had to.”
My lips parted. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“He and I are no different.”
Hot irritation pricked my skin. “You’re nothing like him, Laurie. Your father was a monster. You know that—I’ve seen your memories of him.”
“We are not having this conversation.” His voice was firm and unyielding. A muscle in his jaw ticked—the only sign of the storm I’d triggered. “Get settled. I’ll be in the drawing room.”
He strode over and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I blinked and he was gone.
All I could do was stare at the door he’d vanished through. Was he…angry? I’d seen him furious, but this was different. More of a suppressed, silent anger that he didn’t want to turn toward me. So instead, he’d run away.
I sighed, unpacking the rest of my things, lingering over some of his stuff in the armoire, running my fingers over the expensive fabric of several suits. I took a seat on the bed, forcing my shoulders to relax.
I didn’t like the way he’d dismissed our discussion, but I couldn’t force him to talk about the vampire who’d made him.
I’d seen how his father had treated him, the way he’d killed Laurent’s creations when he got too attached to them.
I’d seen how he made Laurent do his dirty work, killing families who crossed them, even children.
I closed my eyes, letting my mind drift back…
“…I have chosen you as my heir, and I will train you as such. But mark my words, the moment you are no longer useful, I’ll remove your feeling heart from your body and you will be nothing, just as you were nothing before I rescued you from that cesspool you were wallowing in.”
Did those words haunt him as much as they haunted me?
I’d seen many memories where his father had threatened him.
I’d felt Laurent’s panic on several occasions, which made me wonder if he feared death more than most humans.
Perhaps vampires understood better, how precious life was. How quickly it could be taken.
For him to claim that he and his father were no different?
I hated that. How could he think it was true?
Laurent had shown me mercy, had changed, had doted on me with a tenderness his father never possessed.
But trauma had a way of distorting truth, making victims see themselves through their abuser’s eyes.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Laurent had shared his memories with me, something he’d never done for anyone else. I could only imagine how vulnerable that made him feel. Bringing up his father caught him off guard. That’s why he’d fled.
I went into the en suite bathroom and freshened up.
I changed from my travel clothes into a floral summer dress that fluttered down to my feet.
It had an open back so I didn’t bother with a bra.
It was exactly the kind of dress Ania would wear, and certainly not my style, though I was trying to bring more color into my life.
Had Laurent changed me in more ways than just the blood addiction?
I was becoming someone braver, more willing to take risks.
Even in something as simple as clothing choices.
I grabbed my phone and took a quick selfie, sending it to her, then I went out onto the balcony, trying to sort through my thoughts.
A boat floated by and someone on board catcalled up to me.
I snorted, glancing down at the rowdy group of men, grateful Laurent wasn’t here to witness it.
One of them shouted something in Italian.
I could only assume it was an inappropriate innuendo, based on the tone.
I rolled my eyes, ignoring them as they drifted by, watching the other boats come and go.
There was another balcony on this level, further down, part of the drawing room.
The doors were likewise open. Voices carried out, tangled up in a heated discussion.
I discerned Marco speaking, along with several others.
My hearing had improved with Laurent’s generous blood supply, but it still wasn’t strong enough to listen in.