Maybe she still worried that he’d break his word to her, but he chose to believe she just wanted to see him again.
“I’m almost done here, doll,” he answered. “You doing okay? Did Michael behave?”
“I’m fine.” She hesitated, making him tense, before she added, “And Michael was fine, but I don’t think we’re compatible. I prefer you.”
Thank fuck. I love how she never sugarcoats shit.Swiping his palm over his mouth, he muttered, “Well, good. Need me to pick up anything on my way back?”
He’d already planned on grabbing her a phone, but he knew she needed more. Not just essentials, but every little thing he took for granted, like knick-knacks and a favorite shampoo and decorations for her room. Gods, she didn’t even have realclothes.
“Zia and Adriana want to take me shopping,” she replied in a lower voice, her unease bleeding through.
“Do you want to do that? You don’t have to, doll. They can grab stuff for you if you give them your sizes. Or I can do it. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“I want to go.” There was a pause, then, in the no-nonsense tone she used whenever she was trying to cover up her nerves, she added, “But I don’t have any money, and I don’t want anyone to pay for my things. I need a job. How soon can I start looking for a funeral home?”
He didn’t bother explaining to her that he was more than happy to cover anything she needed — up to and including giving her his blood—because he understood that might make her feel even more beholden to them. Instead, he assured her, “We’ll look into the job thing when you’re settled. In the meantime, don’t worry about money. Turns out your groom wanted to make things right. He gave you the price he paid the crypt and a bit more on top. My friend Tarrence is gonna transfer it into an account for you tonight.”
Across the desk, Junger went very still, then began to thrash. Atticus imagined he would have screamed in protest if there’d been any moisture left in his throat.
“Why would he do that?”
“Because, dollface,” he answered, flicking the lights onto their highest setting, “he’s very, very sorry.”
Chapter Fifteen
The manor was burstingwith life when Atticus pulled down the long, winding driveway.
His heart jammed itself in his throat as he pushed the car door open. The lights were on in the house, turned low for sensitive vampire eyes. The glow shimmered in the thick, diamond panels of the old glass as he jogged up the brick steps to the front door.
The manor was two hundred years old and boasted a heavy, forest green door. A massive arch of roses hung over the entrance, almost obscuring all the brickwork some master mason had painstakingly crafted. Since Zia and Harland got together, a lot of the estate had become wild with life and color — a marked change from the strict orderliness the boss had always demanded. Normally Atticus felt a small squeeze of tenderness whenever he looked at the wild, towering rose bush, but not that night.
Being family, he could have barged right in. He wanted to. But instinct held him back. This was another vampire’s domain, and as much as it pissed him off that Carmine was inside, Atticus didn’t love the idea of Harlan throwing him out a window for startling his family.
Biting the insides of his cheeks so hard he tasted copper, Atticus banged the meat of his palm on the door and waited.
C’mon,he thought, shifting his weight from foot to foot.Hurry up!
The heavy door swung open on silent hinges. Harlan stood in the doorway, his long, gray-streaked hair loose. He was dressed as casually as he ever got outside of workout gear: a pristine white button down, slacks, and a wristwatch worth more than the manor on his wrist.
Harlan Bounds was a man obsessed with the finer things in life, which explained why he had his two year old daughter perched on his hip.
Serafina had inherited her mother’s round cheeks, cleft chin, and penchant for babbling, but she had Harlan’s intensity. That intensity wasn’t diminished by her cuteness, nor by the fact that her wispy hair was gathered into a palm tree on the crown of her head. Both chubby hands clutched her miniature bottle of synth, specially calibrated for growing vampires, when she fixed her dark eyes on Atticus.
For just a moment, she gave him a look of such profound shock and hurt that he almost took a reflexive step back. And then she exploded.
“Atty!”she wailed, lunging for him so fast that Harlan had to move with her, lest she pitch herself out of her father’s arms.
There was a messy hand-off as Harlan extracted the bottle from her hands and Atticus fumbled to get her securely in his arms. Serafina sobbed with huge, pitiful tears.
“She missed you,” Harlan dryly noted. He stepped back, allowing Atticus to cross the threshold. “You’re not allowed to leave again.”
“I missed you, too,” Atticus assured the toddler, stroking her back as she clung to him. As much as he wanted to chargethrough the house to find Carmine, he took his time giving her a tight hug.
It wasn’t the first time Serafina exploded in a fit of emotion — something he was certain she picked up from Zia’s side of the family — but he was horrified to have been the cause for tears.
She railed at him in her high-pitched, gasping babble. It was impossible to understand her, but he got the gist of it. He’d messed up and she wanted him to know it.
Luckily her fit only lasted a few minutes before she was back to her normal bubbly self. Atticus brushed the tears from her chubby cheeks as she pulled back to yammer at him, telling him some grand story he could only partially comprehend.
