She swallows, her throat bobbing as her pulse increases.
“Will it…will it do anything else?” she asks, her eyes searching mine as she looks at me over her shoulder.
“It could have other effects,” I say casually.
That has her hopping off my lap, and she clears her throat, flattening out her dress.
“No, no, no. We did not just do all of that for you to lie to me or talk in riddles. You said you were going to be honest, that you want to be a better man. What will your blood do? Why do I want to peel my clothes off and let you bite me again? What the fuck is wrong with me?”
She starts pacing, not even letting me answer.
“Nothing has ever been like that,” she says, waving a hand at me, tears streaming from her face. “Nothing, Warin, not even close. You’re violent, manipulative, and secretive.” I go to open my mouth and she points at me to shut up. “Then there are these moments where you make me feel like I’m the only person who matters. You’ve proven you want to keep me safe, that you’re attracted to me. Ugh, I’m so overwhelmed with every emotion, I want to crawl out of my fucking skin. So consider your next words wisely. They better be honest. So tell me, why? Why doesit feel like this?” She’s nearly shouting at me, pointing with accusation.
“Then I suppose we need to go back to 1933. Take a seat. I’ll show you everything,” I say.
She takes a deep breath, her chest shifting up and down as she breathes heavily. Her pupils are huge and her arousal and blood are still thick in the air, but I’m not dumb enough to bring that up now.
It takes her a few moments, and she licks her lips. She takes a few steps before sitting next to me on the bed, her wand in hand.
I go to reach for her face to wipe away her tears and she thankfully lets me. I want to taste them too, but I wisely decide not to.
“The truth, Warin. I need the truth,” she says.
“Okay, the truth,” I whisper and Ember takes a breath, holding up her wand, doing the basis of the spell I gave her access to.
This will either fix everything or ruin it as she slithers into my memories.
Chapter 25
CHICAGO WORLD FAIR 1933
“This is pathetic,” Oz says, as we roam around the World Fair.
People are elbow to elbow pushing through the different spectacles, some completely despicable while others are rather fascinating.
“I think I’ll find myself a companion for the night. Maybe find one worth keeping for a few more weeks while we’re here. What are you thinking? I know you enjoy the redheads. I’m sure we can find you one here,” Oz goes on.
I sigh, waving a hand at him. “I’ll catch up with you later tonight.”
Oz glares at me, irritated with my mood, irritated that I no longer view him as the second coming of Christ. The steel wool has been removed from my eyes and I see him for who he truly is now. He’s still powerful, made me rich, gave me eternal life, yet, I still feel listless.
I thought that when I had the money, the influence, that I’d have everything. I’d be content. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of those things, but the cost was higher than I realized it would be. Ihad to cut ties with my Ma. She thinks I’m missing, or dead. The sun is an enigma now; the moon is my only constant.
There’s also this rigid codependency Oz has to me, like I’m his reason and I can’t stand it. He released me from the sire bond, saying it was archaic, but I’m still under his thumb. I think he likes knowing he controls me without the sire bond, because truly I have no other options.
Follow Oz, or he’ll kill me himself—those are my two options.
Sometimes I wonder if things would be different if I were out on my own, if I could join a new nest and make my own way, maybe things wouldn’t be so morose. But Oz won’t allow it. He’s directly told me that my allegiance belongs to him. If I detract from him, vampire council be damned, he’d chain me to a pillar and let me burn in the sun.
Oz digs in his back pocket, pulling out a few crisp bills and handing them to me, like I didn’t earn this money outright.
“Be good,” he says, pointing at me and turning his back.
We’ve made more money than we could ever imagine bringing moonshine and authentic bayou gin to the city of Chicago. They have their own nests of vampires, but Oz is older and reigns over the entire eastern half of the country.
There’s nothing truly bad for me to get into. If I thought about stepping out of line, any vampire would go tattle right to Oz.
I just need a moment to catch my breath. I need something that is mine.
