I squeezed his hand. I hadn’t thought that he might want to be somewhere else, but the thought that he remained here to be near me made my chest tighten.
Even though he scared me, even though forever was a dizzying amount of time, even though we might both be damned, I loved him.
“So Bishopcourt . . . ?”
“It is one of many mansions that both function as my home and my place of work.”
“Where do you consider home to be?”
He gave me a long look before he lifted our clasped hands and pressed a kiss to the back of mine. “I already answered that question.”
I swallowed. I guess home really is where the heart is.
“What I mean is, if you weren’t here, where would you be?”
He pondered my question. “Ideally? Probably the village in Romania where I grew up. However, it’s rare that I get to visit.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes when I next spoke. “Maybe you could take me there sometime,” I said. When he didn’t respond right away, I peeked up at him.
His eyes had widened and his body stilled. “You’d actually want to go?”
I used my free hand to pluck at a nearby blade of grass. “Sure.”
He reached over and pulled me to him so that my back was pressed to his chest. I didn’t even want to focus on all the glorious things this did to my body, but I’m sure they didn’t escape Andre’s notice.
“I don’t have words to tell you exactly what that would mean to me,” he said, his breath tickling my ear.
He wrapped his arms around me, and for the first time that day—shoot, maybe even that entire week—I felt as though things were going to be okay. Maybe I wasn’t so angry at the universe. After all, it had brought me Andre.
Chapter 13
“Is the truce still intact?” We were back at Bishopcourt in Andre’s study.
He rubbed his face. The action reminded me that the vampire in front of me was old. I mean, we’re talking older than the founding of America—heck, older than Columbus’s discovery of America.
“Yes, it’s still in place, though Chief Constable Morgan made it clear after you left the crime scene that one more death would dissolve it.”
“Yikes. What would happen then?” I asked, leaning back in Andre’s office chair. I’d officially taken the seat over. “You know, once it dissolved.”
“Probably nothing right away,” Andre said, leaning against his bookshelf. “They don’t want to be hasty with whatever decision follows, or else it will look too much like a witch hunt—and the supernatural community is very critical of witch hunts.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “They could very well decide to redraft another truce, or vote to hold off on an official decision until some event has come to pass.”
“Oh, that’s not so bad, right?”
Andre shook his head. “Trust me when I say that they want to eradicate vampires completely. This is their way of scheming while appearing benevolent to the public.”
He pushed away from the bookcase and sat down across from me. “Why do you even work for the Politia?” Andre asked.
“Trust me, I don’t exactly enjoy myself,” I said. That wasn’t entirely true. I did enjoy learning about the supernatural community. I just didn’t like the other people who worked there. “Honestly, I decided to work there because I was so disliked.”
A line formed between Andre’s brow. “I don’t understand—why would you force yourself to do something you don’t enjoy?”
“I want to change their minds,” I said, picking up a quill—no joke, a quill—from where it rested on his desk.
“You won’t.” His words had a hard edge to them.
“People do change Andre—even you.” He said nothing to that, so I continued, absentmindedly playing with the feathery pen. “I also wanted to learn more about the supernatural world, and to keep an eye on them.”
Andre eyed the pen in my hands. “When I heard that you’d joined the Politia . . . I worried about you.” He said the last part hesitantly, probably still testing out what statements would get my panties in a bunch and which wouldn’t.
“Why?”
He sighed. “They don’t like vampires. Period. So I had a hard time believing that they’d just suddenly take a liking to you.”
“Maybe they’re trying to change me just as I am trying to change them.” I had to bite back my own skeptical laughter once the words were out of my mouth. The Politia had already shown their true colors by thrusting me back into the coven—a potentially dangerous situation—and then rifling through my memories to collect information on us.
I wasn’t the best at self-examination, especially when it came to topics that made me nervous, but I asked myself now why I hadn’t left when I should’ve.
The answer fell right into place. Safety. Working with the Politia protected me more than it hurt me. They were educating me, giving me work experience, and legitimizing me in the eyes of the community.
I’d stay with them until it became too dangerous for me to do so.
***