I got dressed in a navy cotton shift dress, and searched my bag until I found some running socks and a pair of white sneakers. I ran a brush through my wet hair and left hanging, still dripping, down my back. I halted at the closed door, breathing deeply, in and out, willing myself to be strong.
There are some things in life that happen, Amy and we wish with all our hearts they weren’t true. The secret to living a happy life is accepting what is, and learning to make the best of everything we have right now.’
My mother’s voice landed in my head, one of the many talks she’d bestowed on me. Sometimes I felt like she was preparing me for her death as if she knew she wouldn’t always be around . . .
I stepped into the hallway. Everything felt tight, like my chest, my back, and my legs had gained a hundred pounds. I wondered how many vampires lived in this house, surely it was too large for one? Voices from down stairs halted me in my tracks. Karson’s, he was in a heated discussion with a female. I couldn’t make out the words. I crept forward, clutching thestair rail, head cocked to the side, straining to hear—the arguing stopped.
Karson and Dahlia walked out from the room we’d sat in last night. She looked furious as she strode through the house, without so much as a glance in my direction.
“It’s useless to try and sneak up, Amelia, I will always hear you.”
His face was perfection, his teeth hidden under his pillow-soft lips. He was well dressed for at home attire. He wore black pants and a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He should scare me, terrify me, but he didn’t. Though I was definitely wary. “I wasn’t sneaking up.”
He threw an eyebrow up as I descended the last few steps.
“And if you don’t want people to hear your tirades, perhaps you should consider not shouting?”
There it was again, the slight hint of amusement in his eyes. “Breakfast is prepared, please go through.” He indicated a door next to the sitting room.
The table was the largest I’d ever seen, filled with pastries, bacon, toast and eggs. The feast looked as if it were prepared for about fifteen. Vibrant red roses blossomed from a vase in the centre.
Karson hovered in the doorway. He watched me enter as if my human movements were a sudden point of interest.
I reached for a rose. A breath before my fingers could curl around its stem Karson appeared beside me, so close, my heart kicked up a notch and bubbles rushed through my veins. The scent of him curled up my nose. Despite the nerves, or maybe something to do with the kind of nerves rumbling through me, I felt safe.
Using his thumb to flick the thorns off the stem, catching them in the palm of his hand.
“Who would think something so beautiful could be dangerous?” he said, as he handed me the thornless rose.
The metaphor wasn’t wasted, nor was the warning. He was trying to scare me. I twirled the stem between my thumb and forefinger and shrugged. “Perhaps because it is so beautiful it needs a defence.”
“It is not only its beauty, but it is the smell of the rose that draws the predator,” he answered.
The smell, the rose, the predator?
What the fuck did that mean, was he talking about me? No, surely not, I was hardly beautiful and I’m about as dangerous as a mosquito would be to a vampire.
“Would you like some coffee, honey?” A lady interrupted. I swung back. She was older, her gray hair was pulled into a messy bun, she smiled from the doorway.
“Yes, please,” I replied, glad for her interruption. She most definitely wasn’t a vampire. Her teeth were dentures, the permanent wrinkles that came with age creased the corners of her eyes, lips, and cheeks, and her hazel eyes were warm and kind. She left the room as I placed the rose back in the vase.
“That’s Mary,” Karson said, moving to the end of the table. “She’s worked for me for a long time.”
“Do you drink her blood?” I whispered, angrily.
He threw me a dirty look. “No, I do not.”
At least he wasn’t a total monster. I grabbed a glass of orange juice, sculling it down. Mary came back smiling as she set the coffee pot down. I noticed an engagement ring and a well-worn wedding band on her aged, knobbly finger. I wondered if she knew what Karson was?
I poured a coffee. I thought I’d be too nervous to eat, but the emptiness of my stomach won over the mild nausea I felt. I grabbed a croissant, taking a big bite, melted chocolate floated across my tongue.
“Would you like anything else, Karson?” Mary asked.
“No, thank you, Mary.”
Mary smiled, patted his arm tenderly, and left. I pulled out a chair and sat down.
Karson sat at the end of the table, watching, not attempting to eat, just watching.
