Somewhere between the cemetery and the tavern, between her grief and her unexpected openness, Eva Novak stopped being just the woman who bought me.
She became something far more complicated. Something that makes my heart race and my judgment crumble.
Something that could destroy me completely if I’m not careful.
Chapter 12
Eva
Iwake before dawn with restless energy. I’ve been brooding for days about Robin’s defiance, the way her light refuses to dim even in the shadows of my castle. She looks at me sometimes like I’m a puzzle she’s trying to solve—or a monster she’s attempting to tame.
And instead of finding that an irritation, I find it…
Charming.
But sometimes, I don’t like the way she thinks about me. Sometimes I don’t like that she sees me as some gothic creature who only exists in darkness and blood. As a vampire who can’t walk in the day.
Leon explained that reference to me when I asked him about it.
I can’tliterallycontrol Robin’s thoughts. But I can certainly influence them.
The staff are startled when I go down to the kitchen and tell them to prepare a picnic. The head cook blinks at me like I’ve spoken in tongues.
“A picnic, ma’am?”
“You heard me.” I gesture impatiently. “A picnic for two. Make us something appropriate for the weather—and set it up in the gardens.”
It’s still cold, but it’s getting warmer, and Robin, for some reason, finds it entertaining to roam around the gardens.
The kitchen staff scatter like startled birds, whispering among themselves, and I return to my study to do some work—if I can get my mind to cooperate. For a moment I consider calling Robin in again. Having her there with me, kneeling by my side, helped quiet my mind the other night.
But no. I need to learn to do without her. She won’t be here forever, so I can’t make her a habit.
Besides, I’m seeing her at lunch.
By noon, the castle gardens have been transformed by late winter sunlight. The trees are starting to sprout again, and the air smells faintly of fresh grass. A soft blanket has been laid on the grass beneath an ancient oak tree. The spread is carefully arranged—fresh bread still warm from the kitchens, local cheeses, fruit that gleams like jewels, and a bottle of wine from our extensive cellars.
I send Mrs. Kovacs to fetch Robin. But as I stand there surveying the scene, I feel like a stranger in my own body. Like I’m playing dress-up in someone else’s life.
What the hell am I doing?
And after being unable to focus on work again all morning?
“A picnic?” Robin’s voice makes me turn. She approaches across the grass, her hair loose around her shoulders, her boots scuffing against the soft earth. She eyes the setup with surprise and something that might be amusement. “How very provincial of you.”
I almost bristle at the gentle mockery, but the smile she gives stops the retort in my throat. She looks different out here—less like a captive and more like someone who belongs in gardens and sunshine.
A Las Vegas girl, used to desert instead of mountains.
“Don’t sound so shocked,” I say instead, settling onto the blanket with what I hope passes for casual grace.
Robin laughs. “You probably haven’t sat on the ground since you were six.”
The observation hits closer to home than I’d like. “Maybe not since then,” I admit.
She settles beside me on the blanket, close enough that I can smell that synthetic strawberry shampoo. For a moment, we sit in surprisingly comfortable silence, surveying the grounds.
“You’re a bit of a recluse,” Robin says eventually, and not unkindly. “Hidden away in your castle, ruling your empire from the shadows.”
