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I really bartered myself to Ambrose to save Deidre. When I’d made the decision to seek him out, I hadn’t expected such a personal demand. I’d been prepared to offer to work at Noir, or, well, I don’t know what. But I certainly hadn’t thought I’d have a vampire feeding on me by the end of the night. A chill rushes down my spine as we make it to my floor and I walk the short distance from the landing. Out of habit, I straighten the loose unit number, 22B, screwed into the center of the door before unlocking it.
Deidre loves it, and often jokes about drawing a 1 between the last two and B. She’s an investigative journalist, so of course she has a thing for Sherlock Holmes.
I don’t want to look at Ashe as he studies the cramped studio. No doubt it’s nothing as grand as someone working under Ambrose d’Vil is accustomed to. Three months, I remind myself and grab the duffle bag I’d had since I was sixteen and debate what to take.
I hate the familiar sense of dread and anxiety and trauma wrapped up in having to suddenly pack my bag and leave a home. I push it away, telling myself I’ve made my own place in this world and I’m not leaving it for good. Iamcoming back.
Ambrose said he’d provide clothing but I have no idea if I’ll even like what he picks. So my favorite leggings and yoga pants go in first, along with my favorite pajamas. Bras and underwear quickly follow along with my trusty running shoes. I make a face when my bag is already half-filled. I really need a big suitcase, but I never travel anywhere for long enough to justify something larger than a carry-on.
Heading into the small bathroom, I change into jeans and a baby blue t-shirt that has a head of lettuce on it along with the text,Lettuce be friends.
So I like cute things, I think as I zip up my hoodie. Ambrose can suck it if he doesn’t like it. I opt to wear my reliable, go-to brown boots to save space in my bag. Space that I quickly grow conflicted over how to fill. I need my laptop to keep up with my client work, but it has its own bag. I reach for a few of my favorite books before hesitating. I’d reread them all, but if I take each one, I’ll run out of bag space, and I still need my toothbrush and stuff. I hadn’t even begun to consider my house plants. As for Deidre’s research and laptop, it’s going into its own bag.
I lower my bag and wrench around, frantic anxiety twisting my stomach and taking control.
Ashe is leaning against the wall by the door, one ankle crossed over the other and hands in his front pockets, looking as if he has all the time in the world. In a way, I guess he does.
“Is something the matter?” he asks, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside of me. I need to get myself together. This isn’t the time to go into one of my typical Eloise Panic Over Small Things situations.
“What about my house plants?” The words rush out of me as I grip the strap of my bag tight enough that my knuckles are white. “Even if Deidre comes home, she sucks at watering them. If I leave them here, they’ll die. And I’ve had some of these for years! I can’t—” I snap my mouth shut and squeeze my eyes closed, taking deep breaths in through my nose and letting them out my mouth. When I open them again, Ashe is inspecting my Monstera that dominates the one window.
“Leave me your key and I’ll see it addressed,” Ashe says in an easy tone, but my cheeks still heat with embarrassment at how silly I must seem. He looks up at me and then pointedly at the bag hanging against my shins. “Are you finished packing? Ambrose will expect you to be installed in your room soon.”
“Installed?” I huff but turn back to my desk and grab some of my books to shove in while muttering. “I’m not a damn new kitchen appliance.”
From the look Ashe gives me as I pull the strap over my head and head towards the bathroom, the vampire heard my commentary. I ignore it and go back into the bathroom. It takes all of a minute to dump my toothbrush, facewash, hairbrush, and makeup into the remaining space in my duffle. I debate for a heartbeat over whether to take my shower supplies before deciding I don’t want to know what vampires think smell good. Knowing my luck, it’d be raw meat. So in goes my apricot body wash and lavender shampoo.
“Okay.” I try to say the word with confidence, but the quick pack with limited options is still dredging up old memories no matter how hard I tell myself this isn’t the same. I grip the strap where it rests on my shoulder like a lifeline as I take in my home. I’m not leaving for good. I’ll be back here in a few months, with Deidre safe and happy.
“I’ll take your bag,” Ashe offers and opens my front door, but I shake my head and grip it tighter, as if he’ll take it from me.
“I got it,” I insist and I expect him to argue, but he steps out into the hall. My feet drag as I follow him and I drink in a last look at my small slice of safety in this world. Then I close the door and lock it before slipping the key into my front pocket. “Let’s go.”
I march down those stairs and slide into the backseat as if I’m in control of the situation. I was the one to make the choice to spend the next three months with Ambrose. It was a terrible choice, but I’ll be damned sure it isn’t my last.
Ambrose d’Vil may be the king of vampires, but I am nobody’s servant.
Chapter Five
Ambrose
The pen practically snaps in my grip as Ashe leads Eloise out of the office. Fuck, her blood buzzes through my veins like honeyed lightning. I had to force myself away from her the moment I realized she was different from any other human I’ve fed on. It didn’t affect me like that when I sampled her blood from the cut and the only reason I can think of is because it hadn’t been me who’d brought her blood to the surface.
Eloise had resisted for several rapid heartbeats before submitting to me, and even now when she’s no longer in the room, my cock is hard and demanding. Her rich blood is like the smoothest whiskey, her taste still lingering on my tongue.
I snarl and throw the hapless pen across the room, embedding the point in the bulletproof windows overlooking the dance floor below me. I don’t have time to let a human woman affect me like this, but I’ve made a bargain with her and I never go back on my word. I run my kingdom on my honor, and everyone in my world—humans, vampires and shifters alike—knows my word is as good as a sworn oath.
For a moment, I consider ordering Kasar to kill this Deidre after learning everything she knows. Eloise would leave on her friend’s death, and I could be rid of her. My lip curls again.
I will never be satisfied with that brief taste of Eloise’s blood. It’s as if Idunn has descended from Asgard to turn Eloise’s blood into my own personal nectar of life. I could easily become addicted to her blood, and I fucking loathe the idea of anyone, especially a human, having such power over me.
No, I can’t have Deidre killed. Not when the bargain I’d made said I’d return Eloise’s friend alive if she isn’t already dead. Three months of glorious hell awaits me, then. I’m Ambrose d’Vil, king of the Nightshade empire, and centuries old. Three months is a blink in time for someone as old as me, and I can endure the siren song of Eloise’s blood.
She’s the least of my issues, which I’m promptly reminded of when Malachi returns.
“His family?” I ask as I rise from my seat, moving towards the credenza that is now considered an antique. I’d brought it with me, along with many other pieces, when I left the Old World and crossed the ocean. It and four other pieces at my current residence are all I kept from that life. Well, those and my daggers. But those knives are as ancient as me, making the credenza practically modern in comparison.
As I pour three fingers of whiskey, the color so dark to almost be black, Malachi answers, standing at ease with his hands behind his back like the soldier he’d once been.
