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I put my hair into a towel and go into the bedroom to get started.
I start going through all the shopping bags, one by one, bringing out the clothes from the more casual stores, like Anthropologie and Nordstrom. I have to admit, I’m impressed. Most are just normal clothes, a pair of black jeans, sweaters, leggings, and a bunch of dresses, but not only do they all seem to fit me, they all have the same vibe and style. It’s not quite mine per se I don’t wear dresses often and these seem to be ripped from a cottage core Pinterest page—but they’re still pretty and deeply romantic. I have to wonder if this was Absolon’s influence or Amethyst’s. I then find a Sephora bag with about a grand worth of makeup—I know Amethyst had everything to do with that.
Then I move on to the designer goods.
I’m speechless. So much so that I totally forget why I have these clothes in the first place. At least it’s a distraction from the ugly truth.
There are two dresses from Alexander McQueen.
One is black, calf-length, made entirely of leather, with a bustier top that will barely fit my breasts, and red leather overlay over one shoulder. It reminds me of the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland, if she were into BDSM.
The other is a strapless sweetheart neckline, vibrant red, draped with layers and layers of gauzy fabric to the floor. Gorgeous.
Obviously, he wants me to wear one of them tonight.
I gravitate to the one that might make me feel stronger. Looking pretty is not my objective—I want to look like a badass. Plus, the duality of the red and black is calling to the duality that’s waking up inside me.
I put it on, and it fits like it was made for me, even when I struggle with the zipper for the bit. Then I take a look at the price tag. Over seven thousand dollars. I feel sick to my stomach, the amount of money Absolon must have has to be beyond obscene. I briefly wonder what that would be like, to accumulate so much wealth over so many centuries.
With the dress on, I put on my new makeup, going for the smoky eye look that I’ve tried to duplicate many times from YouTube and TikTok makeup artists but never had an excuse to wear. While I work, I trick myself into believing this is a normal party I’m going to, surrounded by rich people. But instead of getting excited, I just feel nauseous.
I decide it’s better to just go through the motions. So I blow dry my hair and pull it up into the fanciest updo I can manage with a set of bobby pins that Amethyst must have picked out for me. I think about putting on some perfume, but there’s none to be found, and with my sense of smell heightened now, perhaps all perfume will give me a headache.
When I think I’m finally ready, I slip on a pair of slingbacks, a modest stiletto heel but with a deep cut in the front, spikes at the tip. Handy if I need to kick someone and maim them.
All that’s missing is jewelry, but of course mine was all taken from me.
I glance down at where the ram and Tempest Stone used to be on my hand, feeling the absence. It really had been protecting me—along with the rest—this whole time, and now it’s gone.
All girls need protection, Lenore.
I think about what my mother said. How scared she got when I mentioned Atlas Poe. She thought he was going to take me away, arrest them for treason, or something like that. I don’t know anything about the guild, but I’m going to guess if they like killing vampires, they’re not opposed to spilling a little blood.
And yet, Atlas never got his hands on me.
Instead, it was the other ones my mother feared. Absolon said he knew my parents, had dealt with them before. Did they know he would be the one to find me? Did they fear him like I do? Why didn’t they kill him when they had the chance? Why deal with vampires at all if your job is to slay them?
I would give anything to see my parents right now. To get the real truth, the answers. I know they lied, I know now in the deepest parts of me that they killed my parents and stole me. But part of me believes their love was real.
Then why do you think they were taking you to Joshua Tree for your transformation? The middle of nowhere. Think about it.
I don’t want to think about it.
I want answers, and not the ones from Absolon, because I know that vampire lies. I need to see them again.
I have to find a way.
A knock at my door brings me out of my thoughts, and I can smell the roses and tobacco already, knowing exactly who is on the other side of the door. Something tingles at the back of my head, another way of sensing him. Or maybe it’s the way my blood moves when he’s around, my veins now full of blood that used to belong to him.
I clear my throat, wondering if I really picked up on any of his characteristics, good or bad. “Come in.”
The door opens and Absolon strides inside, dressed in a sharp black suit, black dress shirt, collar open. For some reason I thought he would be in a tux, but of course he looks impeccable in this. Stealthy and deadly, like a walking weapon. Gorgeous beyond words.
I instinctively inhale, my heart thudding.
He stops in his tracks and looks at me for a moment, his eyes flicking over every inch of skin, leaving sparks of electricity in their wake. His gaze is intense, smoldering, something that makes me feel restless and unsettled.
He quickly breaks the spell, closing the door behind him, and it’s only then that I notice he has a jewelry box in his hands.
