Chapter 4
Scarlett
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“Okay, you can comeout now,” Malcolm finally calls after forcing me to hide away in my room while he finished setting up whatever he had in mind.
Opening the door, my heart lurches, because seriously, the guy’s a fucking sweetheart. A table’s been set up in the open space between the windows and the couch, covered in a linen tablecloth with a candle burning in the center. The scent of roasted chicken and spiced rice waft towards me, and my stomach grumbles in response. While I technically can survive off of blood alone, real food helps me feel human. It also keeps the edge off, buying me more time until I need to drink from Malcolm again. Not that he considers that chore a burden in the slightest, but we’re both in uncharted territory and experimenting with my limits a bit. Any new information he can pass along to Archer and Evie will only help to pave the way for freeing more people from their sires, to convince people that there’s a viable option beyond ‘kill on sight’.
“You seriously didn’t have to go all out like this.”
His heated gaze roves over the red silk clinging to my curves that’s masquerading as a dress. “It may have been a bit self-serving, if I’m being completely honest.” Snapping out of his perusal, he slides a chair back, waiting for me to take a seat like the utmost gentleman.
He scoots my chair close to the table before rounding to his side, uncorking the bottle of wine and pours each of us a glass. As I lift mine, the sweet aroma teases my heightened senses, even something as simple as food so much more intense than before.
Not quite as sweet as Malcolm’s blood, though. I can see the appeal of spiking my drink like some of those cringey old vampire movies.
I have to force my fangs to retract, schooling my expression before I take my first drink. “Self-serving?” Scoffing, I set my glass back on the table. “I spent about three hours in the tub today. If this is what I get when you’re self-serving, I don’t think I could handle you being benevolent.” A sly grin curves his lips and I narrow my eyes. “I mean it. Save your money for more important things, like rent. Fuck, I don’t even want to think about how much a place like this costs you.”
He furrows his brow as he takes a bite, but thankfully changes the subject. “So, tell me something about yourself, Scarlett. Favorite color?”
Taking another sip of wine, I mentally punch myself in the tit for keeping him at arm’s length. He’s so godsdamned considerate that it hurts, and I’m feeling like a real self-centered bitch.
“Blue, but I feel like all we’ve been talking about for months is me, so let’s focus on you for once.” Taking a bite of rice, I watch him scour his mind for what to say, and I don’t think it has anything to do with him not thinking he’s interesting. Rather, he’s reading the room, not wanting to brag about himself or sound like he has an over-inflated ego, or bore me with monotonous stories of work meetings. You’d think with the way he was trying so hard, the guy had never been on a proper date.
Hot guy like him? Sweet, and clearly with a bit of money at his disposal? Hell, he might not date so much as fend off the women throwing their underwear at him.
“I like sparring,” he finally admits. “My best friend Archer and I grew up together, and when our parents died, we had to lean on each other more than ever. Still, no matter how old I get, a well timed energy ball that knocks the stoic look off his face as he tries to put me on my ass will never cease to make my day.” He grins, taking a drink. “He gets so caught up with trying to protect everyone, he forgets to take care of himself sometimes.”
I swallow my bite. “So you benevolently make the sacrifice of attacking him to keep him on his toes?”
“What else are friends for if not to knock you down a few pegs, only to offer you a hand up?” he replies with a genuine smile. “I know it sounds weird, but he’s paramilitary, so I promise, the quickest way to get through to the man is trying to kill him. Makes him feel alive.”
A wistful smile tugs at my lips. “You sound like good friends. I’m glad you manage to stay close after all of these years. Most people drift apart after school.”
A brief pang of sadness skates across his hazel irises. “He blames himself for our parents' death, even though it’s ridiculous. My parents were throwing a party for their anniversary, and a group of their friends headed out on the yacht to celebrate for the evening. Archer had a bad feeling he couldn’t shake all day, but nothing to base it off of, so couldn’t really demand they reschedule.” A heavy sigh escapes his lips. “The storm rolled in hard and fast, and there was no escaping it. So now he wrestles with survivor’s guilt, and devotes his life to protecting people, even if he can get rather aggressive in his obsessive quest. So now and then I like to drop by and catch him off guard, remind him what it’s like to live in the moment instead of looking for every possible thing that could go wrong.”
I have to clear my throat a few times to get the words out. “He sounds like a good guy, and I’m happy he has you.”
Malcolm waves me off, taking another bite. “I’m not spending the entire night rambling on about myself, so let’s trade off. What did you do... before?” he carefully phrases.
Glancing at the lavish spread between us, I reluctantly admit, “Insurance claims center. Nothing fancy, lived alone in a one bedroom apartment, and mostly spent my free time gaming. I was leaving work with a couple of coworkers on my way to get some drinks when,” I stutter, tripping over my words before I lamely sum up, “when it happened.”
Haley and Courtney running, hiding in the stampeding crowd to escape. My screams morphing into desperate gasps for air. The scrape of the concrete on my back as I was dragged away to somewhere pitch black far too quickly, a bloody wrist shoved against my lips.
Shaking the memories from my head, I plaster a smile on my face. Malcolm’s right. Nothing I do will change what happened, and even if I can’t forgive and forget, move on and pretend it didn’t happen, I’m slowly coming around to the idea that... the deaths I’m responsible for weren’t completely my fault. I don’t absolve myself of involvement, and I can’t pin the blame fully on my sire where it truly belongs just yet, but I can accept that I never would have done anything remotely like that if I’d been in control of my faculties. It doesn’t stop the phantom sensation of my hands slicked in blood, dripping onto the ground with audible splats, though.
“Do you have any family?” Malcolm asks gently. “Now that you’re yourself again, we could arrange a trip back out there.” As if realizing the full implications of what he’s suggesting, he hastily adds, “Not to stay permanently, of course. But you could visit, talk on the phone while I’m at work so you aren’t always alone. We can figure it out. It might be a good way to start changing people’s perceptions, having families advocating.”
Pursing my lips, tempted beyond belief, I reluctantly shake my head. “Only my brother, and he’ll already have mourned my loss, started to move forward after this much time has passed. It seems cruel to emerge from the dead and then disappear across the country, making him constantly worry.” Taking another few bites, I give myself time to think. “Right now, he has closure. And if we’re being honest with each other? I’m not sure he’d take recent developments all that well.” I cringe, recalling how vocal he was about the vampire attacks in the neighboring city, thinking it was the supernaturals’ ‘duty’ to handle their messes. “I love my brother, but he’s not what I’d consider open minded.”
Fingers brush against mine and I startle, but when I don’t lash out on instinct, I audibly sigh in relief. It may be slow going, but Iamgetting somewhat better. I don’t have to let this setback control the rest of my life.
