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“Hey.” He grabs my cheek softly, turning my head toward him. “I’m not saying I won’t try, Marina. I will. I’m just asking you to know that there is a chance it won’t happen. If he pushes back, I can’t fight him. I can’t risk everything for her, no matter how much I want to. One month. That’s what was agreed.”
I sniffle, turning my head out of his grasp. In truth, I understand his dilemma, but I hate it.
We walk along the path in silence, both lost in our own thoughts. The two-story historical dream house helps me to relax. There is something soothing about this place, but we don’t stop today. We walk past, coming up to the large woods.
“What’s beyond the woods?” I press my luck, digging for information on what lies beyond.
“It separates this property from my brothers’.”
The mention of his brothers makes me think of Law. He’s been nothing but nice since the auction.
“What does Law think about all of this?”
“Law tends to stay out of matters dealing with my brother and the Council. He agrees with me and doesn’t feel the need for an auction. He has his own line of volunteer donors.” Julian’s eyes roll. “Women tend to throw themselves at his feet willingly. He prefers to snack and leave them alive.”
“Gross,” I scrunch my nose.
“I suppose it would be to you. To us, it’s merely a form of foreplay. There is pleasure in blood sharing.” He looks at me sideways again.
“I doubt that.” My hand comes to my neck, massaging the phantom pain.
“Truly, Marina. It’s very erotic and sensual when both participants are willing.”
“I’d rather die.”
Julian straightens, his face a mask of stone. What’s going on in his head? I’ve certainly offended him, by the way he’s shut down.
“I think it’s time we head back,” Julian says sullenly.
I instantly regret my reaction. Will this affect our truce? Regardless, I can’t lie. To me, the thought of someone taking my blood from my body is anything but sensual. It’s painful and uncivilized. I’d like to be friends with Julian, but at the end of the day I won’t pretend to understand his culture. It’s strange and disturbing to me. Especially when their kind embrace the practice of kidnapping and stealing blood. No, there is nothing sexy about that.
Chapter Seventeen
The past week with Stacey has been the most fun I’ve had in more than a year. We’ve done nothing but eat and talk about our lives pre-abduction. Stacey’s life was the all-American one. A beautiful, educated, loving mother. A doting, breadwinning father. One brother, a dog, and a white picket fence. I listened raptly as she told the stories of her childhood with unshed tears. She’d give anything to have that life back.
As I sat there listening to her, I realized how different we were. I might not want to be a prisoner of vampires, but I’m not begging for my old life either. It was far from perfect. In fact, at times, it was a nightmare.
Stacey’s going on about high school and her friends. I laugh, because even in that aspect we’re polar opposites. She had more friends than I had kids in my class. My life pales in comparison.
“So, what you’re saying is you were a mean girl,” I say in response to Stacey’s high school antics.
“I wasn’t mean, per se.”
I purse my lips, tilting my head to the side.
“Okay, fine. I was mean, and karma is an epic bitch, based on our current situation.” She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting at karma’s revenge.
No debating that.There is nothing either one of us has done in our past to justify this. Stacey’s life has literally been turned upside down. I’ve just traded one form of hell for another.Your current situation is better than life before.
“We wouldn’t have been friends in life,” I say, thinking about how different we were in our pasts and being thankful that we’ve met, even under the unfair circumstances.
“You don’t know that.”
I laugh. “Oh, yes I do. I was the town weirdo who saw monsters as a child. If that wasn’t traumatic enough, I watched my sister commit suicide. The whole antisocial thing—I had it pegged.”
“Jesus,” she croaks. “We weren’t cruel. The people we picked on had it coming to them.”
I raise my brow.
