Another attention-grabbing burst of visual tracers and deep, hazy relaxation. If she pretended to be okay with the program, would the monster lose interest? Some guys only wanted the chase; the only problem would be if his discard phase included getting rid of any evidence. But if she was stronger, monster-strong, she had a chance.
All right. The pattern unfolded, sharp and bright against the soupy semiconsciousness of being zoned. He could probably make a mint with that stuff as a designer drug; was she basically hooked on vampire heroin now? Here’s what you do, Bea.
She moved, as if needing a sleepy stretch. Arms first, then settling her head more comfortably. A sine-wave going down her body, and she very deliberately spent the most time settling her hips, rubbing in a way guaranteed to give a human guy some ideas—unless he batted for the home team, that was.
Absolute stillness. The monster might not even be breathing, which could be a bad sign.
Bea let the stretch take her legs as well. Another hip-wriggle, more definite this time. Some part of him was interested, at least. Unless he’d fallen asleep that way, which didn’t seem likely.
If she ever caught him sleeping...but there was that shimmer over the door, probably meant to keep her in the butterfly-jar.
Then he spoke, low but clear. “Enjoy it, kitten. There is much more to come.”
Oh, you don’t know the half of it, monster. She had a few more ideas, but he was still talking.
“Do you feel that? Dawn. You may noti?—”
Nothing. Not even darkness.
Her plan got off to a terrible start; she hadn’t passed out in one location and awakened in another, quick as flicking a switch, since college. In other words, she opened her eyes to find herself in the master bedroom, with the monster’s nose was less than six inches from hers. Bea choked on a scream, scrambling against sheets and the green-gold coverlet.
“All’s well, Beatrice.” The monster rose, a single fluid movement—he’d been crouching next to the bed, for God’s sake, watching her sleep. “It can be disorienting, the first few times.”
The green sheets were nice, but they had her in a stranglehold. At least she still had her pajamas. An emerald glitter on one of the paired nightstands was the necklace, and Bea was shaken with the sudden certainty that the monster wasn’t lying about how it was made.
The next surprise was that even though her heart was jackhammering, she felt...actually, pretty good? Nearly every physical ache and pain was gone, a flood of ridiculously intense wellbeing vibrating from her middle outward. The only problem was the noise.
Whispers poured into her ears, a confusion of padded drumbeats and sliding movement, creaks and rattles. It was goddamn distracting; she flinched, her hands flying to block the sonic assault.
“Be still, kitten.” He was suddenly there, the bed giving a sharp groan as the monster balanced, warm hard fingers closing around her wrists. “Let yourself adjust.”
Bea froze. The inhuman strength of the monster’s grasp was even more apparent, carefully avoiding squeezing hard enough to hurt. More tiny sounds, cold and wetly distinct—raindrops, she realized, and the shushing noises were people moving around. Murmurs of conversation, mostly indistinct under the pounding drums. The entire goddamn house was going to shake itself to pieces under that vibration.
Much closer, a sudden startling thump—ba-thud. A long pause, then again, ba-thud.
She stared at the monster, realizing the bedroom windows were dark. Had she slept an entire day?
Ba-thud.
His hands gentled, one thumb caressing the underside of her wrist—a soft, absent motion, as if trying to soothe. “It will recede,” he continued, in a soft inexorable tone cutting through the babble and pounding. “Any moment, now.”
And the cacophony did retreat, first becoming a bubbling hiss like water on a pebbled beach before the pressure eased and Bea found she could distinguish individual sounds if she focused. Which she did not want to do, it was too confusing.
Better to wait for that other thumping, calm and unhurried, ticking off time. Her hands loosened; she peeled them away from her ears and peered at him. “It’s…” Her throat was scratchy, but not terribly dry and aching as it had been. Oh, thank God. Maybe I’m okay.
How she could be okay with a monster crouching on the bed right in front of her, Bea couldn’t entirely say. It was relative, like everything else in life. Impossible things became very doable once a person had compelling reasons, like her brother’s body torn to pieces in a filthy rundown stable.
“Mortals. Their hearts will tell you things, in time. The house sings; there is rain with ice, and wind. The trees. Cars, somewhat further away.” He paused between each item on the list, and she found she could untangle the different sounds. “The city in the distance, like thunder.”
I don’t hear that. At least he seemed ready to teach her a few things, though she’d have to test each and every piece of information to be sure.
He could still lie.
Ba-thud.
“What’s that?” she whispered.
“Ah.” He tugged at her left wrist, gently. Flattened her hand against his chest—he was, for once, just in a very crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and charcoal wool trousers. It was a lot better than the usual costume. Maybe he’d been interrupted while getting into another hilariously, expensively tailored suit. “Listen. Right here.”
