Deceived By the Others

chapter 30



“No.”

I blinked, the haze of shrieking terror clamoring in my mind receding at his unexpected response. “Excuse me?”

“I won’t take what isn’t offered freely. You’re selling yourself out of some misguided sense of obligation. You do not want me or what I have to offer, and I won’t accept the blood of a donor who doesn’t truly desire to be in such a position. Not when my survival is not dependent upon it. Despite what you may think, and regardless of how other vampires may operate, that is not how I choose to treat those who have contracted themselves to me. It’s too intimate an act to ask so much of another.”

I sat there for a long moment, too stunned to speak. Royce had never given me the impression he wanted anything but to have access to parts of me I’d never thought I’d be willing to give him. That he’d essentially pointed out I’d be reluctantly whoring myself to him—though not in as many words—was enough to set me to blushing furiously, running my palm down my face as I tried and failed to come up with a reply that wouldn’t make me look like an even bigger fool.

“Might I make a suggestion?” he said, once it became clear I was too embarrassed to speak. At my hesitant nod, he continued. “Perhaps an offer of friendship is in order. We have not had much opportunity to get to know each other outside of life-threatening events.”

I gradually lowered my hand from my face, staring at him blankly. He was as still and calm as before, lounging, relaxed and sated, in the cushions, much like he’d been placed just so to model how truly appealing he could be.

To say I was thunderstruck would be like calling the sky blue. Next obvious observation, please.

He spoke softly, in a light and pleasant voice, as though we were chatting over tea. “If that doesn’t suit you, I often need people to cover various functions at my businesses—catering, kitchen work, security—any of which you might be able to assist with if you’re needed on short notice. For as long as you’re here, if you can help with those activities when asked, and perhaps during those times when your potential condition is under control, I would consider that acceptable.”

“Royce,” I said, further embarrassed at being choked up by tears, “I don’t—I’m not—”

“You don’t need to sell yourself to me,” he stated quietly, unfolding so as to lean forward in one smooth movement and take my hand in his. His fingers were cold but reassuring nonetheless. “When you’re ready—and only then—I will gladly show you that being beholden to me is not as terrible as you imagine it to be.”

I lowered my head, hiding my tears from him with my free hand. Of all the things I’d ever expected him to be, generous was not one of them. This was not the first time he’d extended an offer of friendship, though I’d thought during previous times that his version meant friends with some really icky benefits. His insistence in the past had led me to believe that he would stop at nothing to have me under his thumb. My naïveté and paranoia had often led to my embarrassment before, but never anything on such a spectacular scale.

The strangest thing yet was that he moved from the chair he was on to settle next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and drawing me against his chest. Any other time, I would’ve been clawing at the walls to escape his touch. Now, I gave in to all the pressure of the last few days and truly wept, twisting to cling to his bare shoulders, my entire body shaking with the torrent of emotions fighting to escape me. Though his skin was cool, I felt no lingering sense of doubt or terror at being pressed so close to him. He did no more than hold me, lightly running his fingers through my hair, even as I buckled under the weight of worry and stress. He was my anchor in that moment, a pillar of cold strength, holding me close and keeping me from being swept away entirely.

I’m not quite sure how long I cried. By the end of it I was exhausted, chest heaving as I gasped in a few last hitching, sobbing breaths.

“All right?” he asked, pausing in his soothing motions.

“I think so,” I whispered, voice raw. Though I’d cried until there were no more tears, I wasn’t totally empty. There was enough sanity left to me to worry what he must think of me, and what could possibly have prompted me to hold him so tightly. “Thank you.”

He loosened his grip on me and dipped a finger under my chin, tilting my head up. At first, he said nothing. Instead, he lightly ran the pad of his thumb under my eyes, carefully wiping away the moisture gathered there. His smile, usually wicked and hinting at all things dark and devious, was surprisingly kind. “What are friends for?”

I choked out a little laugh, wiping at my eyes myself. Unbelievable. I’d just cried all over Alec Royce. The Alec Royce. One of the oldest vampires in the United States. The same guy who had once tried to kill me. Even if the attempt hadn’t necessarily been made under his own volition, it was one hell of a strange way for our relationship to turn. Who’d have thought the monster had a heart?

“Why don’t you go ahead and clean up? The bathroom is through my bedroom in the back.”

I nodded weakly, and he helped steady me when I stood up. He left me alone to put myself back together, shutting the door behind me.

I took a few minutes to rinse my face, gathering my shattered pride back into a semblance of what it had been before I broke down. A few minutes later, after washing the worst of the signs of my breakdown from my face, I emerged to find the vampire sprawled on the futon in his bedroom tapping away on a laptop. He looked up, the clear concern in his features tugging every last string tied to my heart.

“Better?”

“Much,” I replied. My eyes were still red in the mirror, but that would fade with time. “Thank you, Royce. I’m sorry about—”

“Don’t,” he admonished, waving a hand at me. “You’ve been under an extraordinary amount of pressure. Don’t apologize for it.”

“Okay,” I whispered, chastised.

“I need to get some things done, but I’ll speak with you tonight before I go to the office. For now, why don’t you go downstairs and get settled in. Try to rest. I’ll have someone stop by later to fill you in on how we do things here.”

I nodded, heading to the door. He stopped me before I got far.

“Shiarra?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t blame yourself for any of this. Regardless of how events turn out, you will always have a place with me.”

I needed to get out of here before the waterworks started up again. I nodded and hurried away, padding quietly across the empty expanse of the room with the statuary and dashing down the stairs. When I reached the foot of the stairs, Wes was peering down the hall. He shrugged and turned away when he spotted me, resuming his post.

I entered the apartment I was going to share with Sara for the next month or so, taking it in at a glance. Clean, furnished, and tastefully—if sparsely—appointed. A bookshelf holding a number of German titles and a few pieces of artwork added a touch of hominess to an otherwise painfully plain room.

The dogs didn’t greet me at the door like I expected; instead, they were cringing at the far end of the room, huddled shivering like they were afraid they were about to be eaten by monsters. Come to think of it, that might not have been too far off the mark if Sara and I hadn’t been guests in this vampire-infested sanctuary.

Sara peered out of the inner hallway, her face too pale. She let out a sigh of relief on sighting me, pressing her hand to her chest. “Jesus, you about gave me a heart attack. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Had to set some things straight, but it looks like everything will be fine.”

Her blue eyes searched my face, judging the truth, and finding it better to let my little white lie go unchallenged. “Aside from the lack of windows, this place is pretty nice. I picked the room on the right. We’ve both got our own bathrooms and closets. Everything is already furnished. Looks like it was a couple of guys who lived here, though. The girly mags and lotion in the dresser were a dead giveaway.”

A giggle escaped me despite myself. Then I remembered that someone, probably the mute vampire, Mouse, had told me that the two men who had lived in this apartment before Max Carlyle came to town were killed in the fight in the basement. That sobered me quick enough.

“Just toss them. I don’t think their owners will be coming back for them.”

“Aye, love, ye may want to put some gloves on ’afore you handle that stuff,” said a chipper voice from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder—and then turned around, blinking down at a woman who barely came up to my shoulder. “Good tae see ye again, lovey.”

“Hi, Clarisse,” I said, smiling wanly at the tiny vampire. I edged out of the doorway to give her room to come in. She flounced into the room, bright green eyes the color of Easter basket grass glittering with curiosity and excitement as she took in Sara and the dogs at a glance. She was wearing silk pajamas an eye-rending shade of lavender that somehow worked with her porcelain features and her curly black hair that trailed all the way to her hips when unbound, as it was now. “This is Sara, my business partner. Sara, this is Clarisse. She’s one of the house guards. Don’t ever take a bet from her.”

“Ooh, lass, ye ruin all my fun,” she pouted, setting her hands on her hips. Despite her tiny size and disarming looks, the vampire was formidable. Like Royce and Wesley, as well as a number of other vampires in the building, she was very, very old, which meant she didn’t always need to rest the entire day. It was little wonder she had come to investigate. Eminently curious as she was, those Shirley Temple dimples distracted you from the dainty fangs that now peeked from behind bright red lips, and gave no hint as to the enormous strength in those tiny fingers.

“I hope ye two don’t mind my stopping by. I heard the hubbub when Ryan started complaining and came for a look-see.”

Sara, for her part, took it all in stride. She shushed Buster when he gave one sharp, authoritative bark—warning Clarisse not to approach. The dogs whined nervously in their corner, but obeyed, staying (mostly) quiet while Sara took Clarisse’s outstretched hand. She blinked at the vampire’s cold, firm grip, but exhibited no obvious alarm.

“Are ye contracted, lass?”

Sara blanched, glancing at me before answering the vampire. “No. No plans to be, either.”

“A shame. Ah, lovey, ye never know, ye might change yer mind ’afore ye leave.”

“Right, thanks, Clarisse,” I hurriedly interjected, ushering her toward the door. “Hey, maybe you could tell Mouse and everyone we’re here later. We need to get some rest. Long day and all that.”

“Oh? I smell a bet coming on.” Her eyes took on a dangerous twinkle, and I groaned. It was the same look she got when about to start a wager on who would sleep with whom in the household, or win the next round of American Idol. “Not to fear, lass. I’ll tell everyone to leave off until tonight. ’Til then!”

“’Til then,” I replied, ushering her out the door and locking it behind me. Followed by running my palm over my face for what felt like the fiftieth time today.

“Er, Shia?”

“What.”

“What the hell was that about?”

“Clarisse is going to start a betting pool in the house on who’s going to get you to sign a contract. Just ignore it; maybe it’ll go away.”

Sara paled, nodded, and rapidly walked away. “I’ll be in my bedroom for the rest of forever. See you later.”

I shook my head and followed her example, heading to my own room. I was grateful to see Louis and Ryan had brought all of my bags in and set them down at the foot of the bed so I wouldn’t have to drag anything out of my car. The scent of vampire was nigh overpowering in the room, though, and I was a bit annoyed that there were no windows—not even in the bathroom—to vent the place.

The whole household would know we were here by nightfall. There were a few people I wouldn’t mind seeing again, but getting reacquainted with them was going to be interesting with Sara here. Royce would undoubtedly stick to his word and let all of his vampires know she was off-limits but, until he did, I’d have to keep a very close eye on her.