“What about my breakfast?” I called after him, a little emboldened after my staring-contest victory.
“I’ll have Clarence bring it,” he growled. “But after this, you’d better learn to drink from a human, like a real vampire. Your behavior is a reflection on me, and I won’t have anyone saying my blood is weak.”
After he’d gone, I went to the bedroom to change. As angry as he was, I didn’t think I’d see Cyrus again that night, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I dressed in clothes I found in the armoire instead of the ones Nathan had bought me. A black turtleneck and loose-fitting slacks were the closest items I could find to my preferred uniform of T-shirt and jeans.
Clarence brought my evening meal, a still-warm carafe of blood accompanied by a selection of fresh fruit, the B-movie version of a continental breakfast. I tried to make some cheerful conversation, but he only provided the minimum requirement of polite response. I eventually gave up and finished my meal in silence.
When I ventured from my room, I found the Fangs were out in full force. Curiosity brought me to the ballroom, where a new row of bikes testified that more vampires had arrived. I expected some trouble from them, but nothing happened. On the contrary, the thugs saluted me with a fearful courtesy. I fully expected them to start bowing and genuflecting when they saw me.
The only person who seemed to want interaction with me was Dahlia. I discovered her lounging on one of the deserted sofas in the foyer, reading a magazine. She made a noise as I passed, presumably to get my attention. When I ignored her, she swept her hair back from her shoulder, revealing a fresh bite mark. She yawned loudly and stretched. “I am just so tired. But why shouldn’t I be? I was up all day.” She giggled and crossed her legs. Her already short skirt rode up, flashing a generous portion of white thigh. Fang marks scored her ample flesh there, as well.
“Do you think you’re making me jealous?” I asked. For some insane reason I was, but I’d eat raw cactus before I admitted it to her.
She shrugged. “No. I just feel sorry for you. Your first day here and he sends for someone else to spend his time with. It’s sad, really.”
“I can think of sadder things.” I dropped onto the sofa beside her and picked up a magazine from the stack at her side. “Ooh, hot spring beauty trends.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw her raise her hand.
I clucked my tongue condescendingly. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He’d kill you if you harmed me.”
She snorted derisively. “Whatever. He thinks you’re pathetic.”
Though I doubted the validity of her statement, it called to mind Cyrus’s earlier angry slur. I dropped the magazine and shifted to face her. “More pathetic than a vampire groupie hanging on to her last scrap of hope?”
Dahlia didn’t rise to the bait this time. “If I were you, I would seriously avoid pissing him off. He owns you. He can make your life hell.”
“I don’t think I can avoid pissing him off.” Quieter, I added, “Not if it means being like him.”
With a sigh of obvious contempt, she tore her attention away from a page detailing the best cut of jeans for different body types. “Yeah, and what is he like?”
“What do you mean?” The realization we were having an actual conversation struck me as odd, but Dahlia seemed unperturbed by it.
“What is he like?” she repeated. “I mean, since you’ve taken the time to get to know him and all.”
Ouch. She had a good point. I didn’t know Cyrus. At least, not as well as she did. I tried to imagine what it would be like if I were in her shoes. She clearly had some affection for him, to stay after all the violence I’d seen him inflict on her.
I cleared my throat. “I suppose I meant evil. I don’t want to be evil.”
She rolled her eyes, not bothering to cover her impatience with me. “News flash, not everything is good or evil.”
“I don’t follow.”
She tossed her magazine aside and twisted her body toward me, pulling one meaty leg up on the couch in a very lewd manner. “Okay, let’s pretend there was a tornado, and it destroyed like, half the town. That’s bad, right?”
I wasn’t quite sure where she was going with this analogy, but I nodded in agreement.
“So since the tornado did something bad, by your logic, it’s evil?”
“I wouldn’t call a tornado evil, no.”
“Why?” she asked in a way that suggested she knew what my answer would be.
“Because it’s just a tornado. It’s part of nature.”
“Just like vampires are a part of nature.” She didn’t seem very pleased to prove her point, but more annoyed at having lost precious seconds of her life teaching me. “Some things aren’t good or evil. Some things just…are.”
With that, she stood and gathered her magazines. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d rather drive nails through my eyeballs than have to sit here and play nice with you anymore.”
“Well, fuck you, too,” I said under my breath as she charged up the stairs.
So we weren’t bound to become Best Friends Forever, but at least she could talk to me without trying to kill me. And to be honest, if she got so sick of being polite that she did drive nails into her eyes, well, that would be a bonus.
I looked to the magazine in my lap, the one Dahlia hadn’t bothered to collect on her way out. Beauty magazines didn’t usually appeal to me, but I didn’t usually have so much time on my hands, either. I flipped to an article about the bacterial hazards of tanning beds and assured my horrified brain that it was medical research.
I’d only read the first paragraph when the study doors burst open, admitting the sounds of male exertion and clashing steel. Cyrus glided into the room dressed in tight black leather pants and a billowy white shirt that was unbuttoned to the waist. His long hair was pulled back and he carried a fencing foil. All he needed to complete the ensemble was an eye patch and parrot. I tried not to laugh as the image formed in my brain.
Wiping droplets of bloody sweat from his brow, he tossed the foil to the guard that followed him. I pretended to be too interested in my magazine to notice their presence.
Cyrus sat next to me with an exhausted sigh as he tugged the black leather gloves from his fingers. “Good evening, Carrie.”
“Ahoy, matey. Going sailing?” Although I was still mindful of his sudden change in temper earlier in the evening, I couldn’t help but push it a little. That was my nature.
He put his arm around me, a gesture so familiar and strong that I had to force myself to pull away. He paid no mind to my reaction. “I was just brushing up on my defense. Roger is a wonderful fencer, aren’t you, Roger?”
The guard nodded sharply. “It’s Robert, sir. And yes, I am.”
I didn’t engage myself in the conversation and flipped a few pages in the magazine.
Cyrus leaned in close under the pretense of reading over my shoulder. “That’s quite an interesting look. I’ve never cared for women with too much eye makeup, but it certainly would look striking on you.”
“I’ll have to remember that in case I ever feel compelled to impress you.”
Despite my best efforts, I felt my body react to the pull of the blood tie. Everything about him seemed appealing, pirate shirt aside. He smelled wonderful. He felt even better pressed to my side. Then I thought of him with Dahlia. He’d been doing God knew what with her all day, slipping away periodically to “check” on me. I wasn’t hurt by his unfaithfulness, and rather surprised myself for expecting