Page 20 of Bound By Blood

Landon leaned back once more and drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, trying to figure out his next course of action. Clearly, Carly didn’t want to leave, and if he was being honest, he didn’t want to leave her either. But the alternative was introducing her to something he had wanted to keep her far away from. His dark world, his violent nature, and the darkness he held inside of him would eat her alive. She would be corrupted, ruined. Once someone saw what the other side had to offer, there was no going back. Was he really willing to risk all of that? Was he willing to risk her innocence?

Carly had already said that she would never stop looking for a way to be a part of his world. She admitted to feeling drawn to it, and him. If he let her go, she would be in far more danger than if he were to be the one to guide her. To show her, at least in part, what it meant to belong to his world.

Reluctantly, Landon pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket and tossed it onto the table. He then rose to his feet and held his hand out to her. “Come on then,” he ground out, knowing he was going to regret every part of this but incapable of leaving her to fend for herself.

Instead of reaching for him as he had instructed, she stared at his hand, confusion in her eyes. “Where are we going?”

“You wanted an introduction to my world, Carly. We can’t do that here. I’m offering you the chance to experience some of it firsthand. Now, are you coming with me or not?” He needed her to make up her mind sooner rather than later as he was close to changing his own mind.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for her to decide, and she placed her hand in his.

Chapter 8

Carly Harris

The fact that she told him that she was drawn to him, and his world plagued her thoughts during the drive to wherever he was taking her. She wasn’t worried about where they were going. She felt safe with him, even if he did drive like he owned the city. She supposed he did.

They pulled into an underground parking garage beneath a tall office building with architecture beyond this era, both beautiful and bold, but she barely paid attention to it. Her thoughts were more important.

If she were being honest with herself, it was more him that she was drawn to than his world, but his world did have some hold over her. She was curious about it, enthralled and enchanted. Now that she knew about vampires and their existence in the city, there was no way she would have been able to let it go. She wanted to be part of their world. She just couldn’t explain why.

And she touched him. She looked at his arm, the one she had placed her fingers on, noting the hints of a tattoo on the inside of his wrist. She couldn’t see the entire tattoo from where she sat, and she didn’t have the mental capacity at the moment to pry, so she stayed in her seat, her spine pressed to the expensive car’s stiff, black, leather interior. It was just a tattoo of what appeared to be a skull. She had one too, a black rose, and it probably was an on-the-whim thing like hers was.

She’d always liked men with tattoos.

The way he had reacted to her touch was not the way she felt inside. He was defensive, cold, though she couldn’t blame him. He was a predator. He killed on a daily basis. Affection didn’t come with the territory, she assumed. But she felt something when her skin came into contact with his. Something she couldn’t explain.

The sun was fully up now, bright and shiny. The rays seeped through the parking garage entrance before they were covered in dimly lit darkness and crawling shadows. There were no cars there since it was Sunday, but Landon whipped into a reserved parking spot that had his name on it. The car lurched as it came to a complete stop.

Landon got out of the car, and she hadn’t hesitated to follow. She rounded the car while Landon headed to the elevator. She caught up to him just as he punched a code into the keypad next to the elevator buttons. They stepped in in silence, and she became keenly aware of every movement he made as the elevator traveled up, up, and up. The way he held his body, the stone-faced expression, the way his hands were shoved into his pockets. He looked tense, and she wondered about it.

“Where are you taking me?” she finally asked.

“You’ll see in a moment,” he stated. He moved away from her to the back corner of the elevator, leaving some space between them. She frowned at this but didn’t question it.

The elevator dinged, and it slid open soundlessly. He pushed away from the wall and strode out into a space that he was clearly familiar with. She followed more slowly.

She took in her surroundings. It was a penthouse. The walls were all a light gray with bright lighting hanging on the high ceiling that made her feel small in such a large and open space.

To her right was a living space complete with a white animal skin rug. A coffee table squatted on top of it, and dark gray leather couches surrounded it. Across from the couches was the largest flat-screen TV she had ever seen. There were floor-to-ceiling windows behind the couches, displaying the city they towered over.

Her gaze swiveled to the left and she took in the elaborate kitchen complete with black stainless-steel appliances, a white granite countertop with flecks of gray, and a large matching island with steel stools pushed underneath the overhang.

Separating the kitchen and living room was a dining table that could seat eight people.

There was a staircase off the kitchen which led to a dark second floor. Her attention lifted to the dark hall up there, wondering if his bedroom was there. This was clearly his space. There was no doubt in her mind because this penthouse smelled like him, surrounding her and stuffing up her nose, teasing her senses.

He went to the kitchen while she gaped and stepped further inside. It was not what she had expected. She expected . . . what? Gargoyles and chains and stone walls? Maybe even a coffin in the darkest part of the house. Then again, the sun didn’t seem to affect him as the legends had said, so maybe he didn’t sleep in a coffin either.

“You can come further inside,” he grunted as he steepled his fingers on the island, his shoulders bunched.

“Sorry,” she said, shaking herself a little. “It’s just not what I expected.”

He quirked a brow but didn’t comment on that. Instead, he said, “We can speak freely here.”

“Okay,” she murmured. She could feel him watching her as she headed to the kitchen. He turned, grabbed a bottle of caramel liquid from the counter and two crystal glasses next to it, and poured two fingers worth into each. From scent alone, she could tell that it was whiskey.

Without looking at her, he held out one of the glasses for her to take.