“Unusual fascinating.” He places his hand on my cheek. “But I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not them. Not Damien. Not anyone.”
“I know.” I cover his hand with mine. “I trust you.”
“Get dressed,” he says. “We have vampires to meet.”
The resort has a private arrival area for guests who prefer discretion. I didn’t know this existed until Julian led me through a series of hallways that definitely weren’t on the map they gave us at check-in.
“How do you know about this?” I ask.
“I own a share of the resort.”
“Of course you do.”
“It’s a good investment. Bahamas real estate appreciates well, and the tax advantages—”
“Julian.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t have to justify your billionaire purchases to me.”
He almost smiles. “Noted.”
The arrival area is small but elegant—a private lounge with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a garden. Three chairs are arranged in a semicircle with a table in front of them. A bar cart sits in the corner, fully stocked with things I suspect no one here will drink.
We wait.
I fidget with my bracelet. Check my phone. Fidget some more.
“You’re nervous,” Julian observes.
“I’m about to meet a bunch of vampires who are here to help us fight another vampire who wants to destroy you by destroying me. Nervous seems appropriate.”
“They’re going to like you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I like you. And I have excellent taste.”
Before I can respond, the door opens.
The woman who enters is striking in a way that feels almost aggressive. Light brown hair swept into an elegant updo. Designer suit that looks expensive but slightly dated—like she bought it in the nineties and never bothered to update. Sharp cheekbones. Sharper eyes.
“Julian.” Her voice carries a Russian accent and about three centuries of attitude. “You look well. For someone whose progeny is trying to murder him.”
“Elena.” Julian crosses to her. They don’t hug—vampires apparently don’t do hugs—but there’s warmth in the way they regard each other. “Thank you for coming.”
“You saved my life.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Now I save yours. Very fair, is it not?”
Her gaze finds me. I resist the urge to take a step back.
“So.” She circles me slowly, like she’s appraising livestock. Or dinner. “This is the human who knows our secrets and didn’t run.”
“Umm, yeah, that’s me,” I manage. “The non-running human.”
“Fascinating.” She completes her appraisal of me. “You are either very brave or very foolish.”
“I’ve been told it’s both.”
