Zia barely had both feet on the ground before he was speeding off again. That left her standing alone with the demon.
Oh, what a mess,she thought, turning to look at the manor. Motioning for her guard to follow her, she walked toward the little landscaped porch that hid the kitchen door. Her stomach was twisted into anxious knots. She couldn’t believe she was willingly approaching the manor, but if he happened to still be awake, maybe she could—
“Miss North.”
Zia jumped at the sound of Mr. Bounds’s baritone. Biting back a squeak of alarm, she swung her gaze around, toward a tiny wrought iron table nestled in the shade of a massive climbing honeysuckle bush.
Mr. Bounds sat in a small chair, swaddled in blue shadow. He wore a shirt this time, though she wasn’t sure that was a good thing. He looked just as devastating in a crisp white button down, his long hair loose around his shoulders, as he did half naked and sweaty from a workout.
Curling her fingers into fists, she said, “Mr. Bounds! Ah, good morning. I didn’t expect— I mean, I was hoping to see you.”
One dark eyebrow arched. His eyes made a slow perusal of her face. “Were you?”
Zia flushed. “No. I mean,yes.I wanted to…” She waved at her guard. “Can I ask why I have a guard? If it’s because of Friday, I really am sorry. I won’t do anything like that again. I promise I don’t need someone to keep an eye on me.”
A look of surprise flitted across his face before he stood up from his seat. Tucking one hand in the pocket of his slacks, he murmured, “You are not in trouble, Miss North.”
“Then why…”
In an instant, his baritone hardened, sending every survival instinct in her body into overdrive. “Because I’ve lived too long to blindly trust strangers with precious things.”
Though he stuck to the shadows, Mr. Bounds came close enough to touch. Only the low, decorative iron fence that marked the edge of the tiny garden and the patio remained between them when he added, “You will have a guard as long as there are people I don’t know on the property. It is not a punishment, but it is non-negotiable.” His eyes flicked to the demon standing a few paces behind her. “Michael will watch over you until the lights are installed and the crew leaves the estate.”
She floundered. “But… why am I the only one who needs a guard?”
Mr. Bounds blinked slowly, once, before he answered, “Because I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”
ChapterSix
Harlan stared at his ceiling.With the specially designed shades pulled over his windows, it was pitch black in his bedroom. The sun had been up for two hours. It was well past time he should have gone to sleep.
And yet, like the two days before this one, he struggled to find the inner stillness necessary for rest.
Zia is out there.
It was singularly exquisite torture, knowing she was within reach and yet unable to touch her.
It wasn’t easy to ignore her presence before their encounter, but now it was impossible.
She was in his lungs, his pores, on his tongue, and burrowed so deeply in his mind that he lost all hope of ever getting her out. His thoughts spiraled around and around. The craving for her was merciless, but so too was his doubt.
How could he possibly hope to win her?
It was no easy sell, asking someone to become an anchor. It required enormous sacrifice on his partner’s side — and an equal amount of blind trust.
That was part of the reason vampires were so ferally protective of them. An anchor gave up so much to sustain their vampire. Pleasing them, protecting them, was the least a vampire could do in return.
Of course, the other reason was a much more fundamental, selfish one: no creature willingly relinquished their source of sustenance, of pleasure, of connection.
Harlan strained to listen to the muffled sounds of workers setting up lights in the garden. Why didn’t he install surveillance equipment in the greenhouse? He cursed himself for his restraint. It would be such a relief to hear her even as the raw, hungry part of him gnashed its teeth at the thought of her speaking to someone else.
It wasn’t fair, and he would never act on the impulse, but it wasthere.
For thousands of years, vampires kidnapped their chosen anchors, hiding them away in caves, in fortresses, in castles. There, they could lavish them with gifts, with fine foods, with pleasure, seducing them slowly. With every bite, every injection of venom, the vampire would grow more possessive and the anchor more attached.
The anchor's body would change, priming it to support its vampire. Their sleep cycle would shift. If they could bear children, their internal chemistry would alter such that they could carry a vampiric child to term. Once the venom had settled into their blood, no other vampire could claim them without being poisoned.
It was a slow, sensual process of possession, perfected over many thousands of years.
