“Bodies,” he answered absently. “Torn, broken into countless pieces.”
I felt frozen, his cool body still connected intimately to mine, heavy with muscle and legs twined with mine. “Wh- why? Because you got away from him?”
“It is the greatest insult to a sire. To break from their hold.” James pulled his cock from me and I flushed, seeing the blatant evidence of his finish and mine. “I have known for … perhaps fifty years? That he follows me. He leaves me these broken things to declare his presence.”
Sitting up in bed, I barely noticed James putting pillows behind my back. Wrapping the sheet over my breasts, I pondered the horror of what he’d just said. “This sick fuck is leaving a trail of tortured, dead people behind him like, what, like a ‘Hey, fuck you, James, for leaving me?’ Does he want you back or something?”
“He wants me to beg to return.” The firelight played along his face. The house was wired for electricity, but I knew James preferred candles and firelight. “He will continue to destroy anyone associated with me until... “ he waved one big hand helplessly. “Until there is no one left but him.”
“So, you’ve just been..." I impatiently pushed back my tangled hair, “you’ve been blind, just waiting for him to kill again? Because you never knew who he was. Did he leave any clues?”
This time, when he looked at me, I really, really wished he hadn’t. His blue eyes were an odd, blank polar shade.
“Only the bodies.”
When James took me into the bathroom and settled me into the luxuriously huge bath, steaming with hot water, I didn’t pull away. I didn’t even stiffen up when he slid in behind me and ran soap slowly over my breasts and belly. I didn’t protest when those big hands slid to my hips and lifted me onto his lap.
"Not again?" I mumbled. But James didn’t move me further, merely bracing my lolling head on his shoulder until I fell asleep.
When I woke the next day, he was gone. Lunch was on the table with an uncompromising note.
Eat this. You’re losing weight again.
“What, seriously?” I snarled, “It’s because you’ve been drinking half my body weight every night, you asshole!” Still, I took the tray and settled on the padded built-in seat by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Another rainy afternoon, and the Sound was a flurry of choppy gray water.
For the first time, the massive, quiet room felt comfortable. Comforting? I chewed my sandwich as I pondered it. I’d seen so much violence and bloodshed here, but after all the revelations I’d read from the canvas of James’ skin, being in here seemed so much safer than out there. Where the monsters I didn’t know were now far more terrifying than the one I did. The house was high in the hills, on a private lane so there was very little foot traffic below, but I found myself watching the few people who passed by. I realized after a moment that I was trying to examine each pedestrian closely. Squinting through the windows of cars parked on the lane, trying to see who was inside.
“Fuuuck,” I groaned, “I’m looking for him. For the monster who made my monster, and-”
Clumsily getting to my feet, I started pacing. Touching the fireplace mantel and then over to the carved headboard of the bed and back again to the window.
There were so many things wrong with what I just said that I didn’t even know where to start.
When the door opened that evening, I was seated by the window again, knees drawn up to my chest, arms wrapped around them and making me as small as possible.
“Hey, doll.” That fucking James, voice smooth and pleasant, shifting through a couple of contracts as he seated himself. “How was your day?”
“Oh, the usual,” I said bitterly from my corner, “have some lunch, pace back and forth. Wait for that fucking vampire psychotic dad of yours to come and rip me into pieces.” The sounds of the paper shuffling stopped and it gave me a moment of spiteful satisfaction. I could feel the chill of his shadow over me almost instantly.
“What did you say to me?” James spoke calmly still, almost a purr, in fact.
“Well, given your history, that’s next, right?” I was veering dangerously into the Realm of No Fucks Left To Give, so I met his gaze squarely. “We know he follows you. Leaves you a little calling card by turning a human into unrecognizable mush. Am I next? Now that you know his name?”
He was in front of me before I could blink, towering over me. I felt the cool weight of his hands on my shoulders and swayed a little. His face was still impassive, sculpted lines smooth and symmetrical, but those blue eyes blazed like the fires of hell. I was shaking, James had to have felt it, but I locked my knees and glared up at him. The rasp of his thumb stroking over my throat sent up a spray of goosebumps in its wake.
“Go into the bathroom and take a shower. There will be a dress for you on the bed. I’m taking you out tonight.”
“Wha-” If this gorgeous bastard had told me that he’d just turned into an ice-skating dog and I’d be bearing his puppies, I couldn’t have been more weirded out. “You’re letting me … out? Out of here?”
James chuckled, even white teeth flashing. “Yes, pet. I’m taking you out on a date.”
The lights were blinding as I stumbled after James, actually appreciating his tight grip on my hand. My unfamiliar high heels had me wobbling like a newborn giraffe and I resented it. The dress he’d laid out barely reached mid-thigh on me, with a draped front that covered most of my cleavage, but the back plunged down to the two dimples just above my ass. And bright red. Red. Of course.
This place. Where the hell was I? Just leaving the bedroom was overwhelming, seeing glimpses of his elegant house as I passed through, the brief trip from his garage to another one and led into this … really, what the fuckwasthis place? I was hit with a wave of longing for fresh air, actually feeling wet grass under my feet. This place felt as hard and cold as concrete, and about as welcoming.
The club would likely have been gorgeous if it hadn’t been for the inhabitants. There were soaring stone arches and beautifully painted frescos on the ceiling. As I squinted, I realized it was a mocking interpretation of Michelangelo’s work in the Sistine Chapel, but with bloodsuckers. I wasn’t religious, I never had been. It was hard to believe in a God after everything I’d seen and endured, but I couldn’t control a superstitious shudder.
The entire club was dim, with rounds of soft white lights hovering over private booths, all raised two or three steps from the dance floor to create the image of a throne.Of course,I thought,vain bastards.
