“Okay?”
“You did a good job tonight. But we should run through what we intend to do tomorrow.”
Chapter Eight
Vladimir
Grantfallsasleepearlierthan usual the next day—earlier than me, at least. I lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling as I reflect on the night we have just had.
He was not wrong to change the plan. I know that. He did appear to get Jakob’s attention and keep it, though I cannot see howalleyes in the club were not on him at all times. Still, we need to be certain that Jakob has not chosen another targetalready. We must return to the club tonight, and I will need to be careful to keep a low profile.
I want to look at Grant, to be sure he is still sleeping, but I don’t dare. I might be seized by the urge to stare at him all day, and I need to rest as well. Instead, I slip from the bed and take my phone into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind me.
Jeremiah picks up surprisingly quickly for someone who also should be sleeping. He does not sound as though I have woken him when he greets me curtly either. “Everything all right?” he asks.
“Grant went off script last night.”
“Is he okay?” The alarm in his voice is real.
“Yes, of course. He is fine. Asleep. I just—” I sigh and then explain to him everything that took place at the club. The human. The bodyguard. Jakob.
“What’s your plan now, then?” Jeremiah asks when I’ve finished. I am still angry, I realise, though not really at Grant. I should have taken better charge of this job. What if this fae never even shows?
“We return tonight. Grant believes that Jakob will be looking for him.”
“That’s because he’s got good instincts. And even more power than both of us. Trust him, Vlad.”
“I do trust him.” Ido. This is simply not a situation he should be so involved in. Not for another hundred years, at least. “This is new to him.”
“What, flirting?”
I growl. Jeremiah chuckles in response.
“Don’t get too worked up there. Grant might begin to believe you care.”
“I care.”
“How much?” Jeremiah’s voice is firm, and my words fail me. “How much, Vlad?”
“What?”
“How much do you care about him? I know you’ve said you don’t know why you turned him, and I guess I can believe that, but you’ve spent fifteen years with him. It didn’t take me that long to realise I need Paxton by my side.”
“I—” I shake my head. “He knows.” He knows that I will protect him. He knows that I have cared for him, that Iwill. I can provide.
Telling him how I feel? It was enough before he knew our bond might be more than other vampires experience with their sires or turns. Telling him how I feel will have him shouldering an unnecessary burden. If he does not feel the same way—and I do not see how he could—then he has to live with the knowledge of my feelings, without—
Without loving me back.
“Have you ever considered that you don’t actually know everything, Vladimir?” Jeremiah asks.
“Yes.”
“Keep an open mind, then.” He huffs. “And keep an eye on Grant. He won’twantto disobey you, but if he sees a way to prove himself, you know he’ll take it.”
“I know.”
Jeremiah hangs up without saying goodbye and I sag back against the sink, head spinning. Even if I were ready to tell Grant about my feelings—and I do not believe that I ever will be—this would be the worst time. We are on a job. We are back in the place where he grew up, a place that clearly holds dear memories for him.
