I’m so done with this man and all the shit that comes with him. The guy is like whiplash. One minute he’s caring and sweet. I’ll even go so far to say it seems like he wants me as much as I want him. Then the next, he’s cold and spoiled and I want to murder him.
I don’t like being toyed with.
Now I have to get all dressed up and go to a ball and party with a bunch of ridiculously well-dressed psychopaths. Oh, and keep pretending like I actually want to be here. This is all one big fat mess.
The bedroom door swings open, pulling me from my irritable thoughts. I hardly recognize Celeste as she enters the room. Dark circles encase her eyes, and her skin is too pale and gaunt, even for her kind.
“What happened to you, Blondie?” I ask as she sits at the end of the bed. At the sound of her nickname, her eyes roll so far back that the crimson disappears entirely.
“Trust me, I don’t want to be here as much as you don’t want me here.”
She snaps her fingers, the sharp sound echoing in the space between us. A silver plate and pitcher appear out of thin air on the small console table to her left. I try to look unimpressed and ignore my stomach’s screams, but the steaming plate of food beckons me like a siren’s call. The strawberries in the bathtub were nice, even if they were fed to me by the biggest asshole in the world, but not enough to actually provide me with any nourishment.
“Don’t be a stubborn idiot. Eat.” Her eyes are hard, her expression an unwavering force of nature. I do as I’m told, grabbing the tray and putting it on the bed in front of me.
“It’s not poisoned, is it?” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully at her.
To my surprise, she bursts into a fit of giggles, like it’s the first time she’s ever heard anyone tell a joke. Her shrill voice scratches a sensitive part of my brain, and I cringe from the sound. She may be laughing, but it almost feels like knives in my eardrums.
“Of course not. Also, don’t go blabbering about me using magic to everyone. Only The Five and their successors are supposed to be able to harness the power of the city. If everyone could do it, we’d plunge into utter chaos.”
I frown as I slice through the chicken.
“What do you mean, ‘power of the city’?” My knife scrapes across the plate, the sound almost as high pitched as her voice.
“I’ll let your lover boy explain that one. Speaking of, he’s asked me to help you prepare for the ball tonight. It’s a masquerade, the first one we’ve had in about twenty years. Should turn out to be a fun night.”
My bite of chicken turns to ash in my mouth. I glance up at her, knowing our definitions offunare not the same.
She huffs. “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll be on Knox’s arm the entire night, so you’ll be fine. And I’ll be there. Apparently, I’ve been promoted to ‘Familiar’s Bodyguard’ now. As if I have nothing better to do with my time.” She examines her nails with a bitter scowl. Her passive-aggressive tone agitates me.
“Well, fuck off if you don’t want to be here. I don’t need a bodyguard who is a pathetic know-it-all doing nothing but pining after her ex-boyfriend every five minutes.” I slice through a roasted potato, and the butter glaze oozes onto the plate. Before I can I stab a potato wedge with the fork, Celeste tosses the plate to the other side of the room.
I don’t even flinch. Nothing in this hellhole surprises me anymore.
“How dare you! Do you have any idea how lucky you are?” Her teeth bare, and if looks could kill, there’s no doubt I’d be dead right now.
I should stop, extend apologies and beg for forgiveness, because that plate of food was the best fucking thing I’ve eaten in the last God-knows-how-many days. But my tongue can’t seem to keep itself in check today. Perhaps it’s the knowledge that Blondie can’t actually kill me which gives me the confidence. I mean, shecould, but that would mean upsetting her beloved Knox.
“Lucky?” I scoff. “You think being bound to that monster makes me lucky? Jesus, you’re delusional.” The over-analytical side of me—the side that makes me a good journalist—does joyful backflips as I watch Celeste go through every single emotion a person could feel, all at once.
Bingo, bitch.
I’m going to bait the vampire into spilling all of the secrets this place holds. Well, not all of them all at once. I only care aboutfinding out more about Knox right now, since a part of me is certain that if I can understand his motivations, I might have a better chance of escaping.
“He’s not a monster,” she growls.
In a split second, the ethereal beauty of her face vanishes, replaced by the increasingly familiar heavy-set brow bone and wrinkled skin. Just like Egor’s face had changed when he fed on Megan.
“Oh, poor me. I wanted to be a vampire so bad that I signed my life away to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Then he tossed me aside for a different human when he got bored, and now I do nothing but follow him around all day, licking his ridiculously shiny shoes.”
Her grotesque features darken, and I know that my impression of her is spot on enough to piss her off.
“You ungrateful little swine. You have no idea what we’ve both been through or the risks he’s taken to keep you safe!”
“That’s the thing, Celeste. I don’t know anything about him. One minute he’s hot, the next he’s cold. If he keeps playing with my emotions like this, then of course I’m going to believe he’s no better than Damon or Egor.”
Her angered expression softens, but her sharp teeth still gleam in the dim amber glow from the fireplace. Her eyes grow distant as her face transforms back, as if she’s lost in another time.
