Chapter
Thirteen
Elliot
I’m not alone.
If I was still human, I’d be picking up the nearest weapon and getting ready to fight. If I was still human, I’d be hiding, running, calling the cops.
Whoever’s here in my old apartmentisn’thuman. I don’t smell sweat, excitement, anger, or any other thing that humans give off.
It’s not Lucy. I know when he’s near. Always have, even before I was turned. It’s not Andrew. The young-looking vampire is waiting for me in the hallway, wanting to give me some privacy at least.
It’s someone else.
I head into my bedroom.
There, stretched out on the bed. Santiago. Arms tucked behind his head, eyes closed, too relaxed, too at home. As though breaking into my space after trying to burn me alive is just another Tuesday evening for him.
Maybe it is.
My vision goes red. The urge to tear into him, to feel bone give way and blood spill, hits fast and vicious. Every part of me wants to end him where he lies, to repay fire with fangs and force.
But that’s exactly what he wants.
I could yell, call for Andrew, but that would most likely turn into a blood bath, one I don’t think Andrew would be able to walk out alive from.
As I step in, Santiago’s eyes snap open, and he smiles that feline-like smile.
I don’t return it. Instead, I cross the room, grab my wheeled suitcase from the closet and drag it out, dumping it onto the bed, dangerously close to his ribs.
I let him see the restraint. Let him think I’m choosing calm.
Because with Santiago, brute force won’t win. He’s like Lucian in that way. He’s smart, patient, meticulous. He plans five moves ahead and waits for you to self-destruct on the first.
So I swallow the violence clawing at my throat and do the one thing he won’t expect.
I play the game and ignore him.
I move to my dresser and take the few picture frames I have with me and Kayla, some jewelry and clothes. Most of my things are ragged and old compared to the expensive things Lucian has provided for me. Even the dress I’m wearing has to be worth a fortune, tattered and caked with mud and God knows what from the sewer. But my things remind me of my old life, of my time with Kayla, before VMR consumed our lives, and it’s nice to have something to remember her by now that she’s gone.
If only I could’ve had some alone time here, like I had wanted. But no, a vampire’s here to ruin it all.
I throw open the luggage’s lid and hit his leg with it. I wish it was his nuts.
And then I start packing.
“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?” Santiago asks me with a cocked brow.
A small thrill of intrigue ripples in my blood but I shake my head. “Are you going to ask how I’m still alive and not burnt to a crisp?”
“No need,” he says. “You’re smart. I knew you’d figure out a way to escape.”
I don’t know whether the fact that he doesn’t even deny his involvement in it is refreshing or infuriating. Maybe both.
“And I know Lucian is too stubborn to die,” he continues.
“All you’ve done is piss him off,” I say. “Not the wisest move.”
