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A female voice jerked me out of a deep sleep.
I sat up, confused about where I was. The room I was in was bigger than my whole apartment, and I lay on a four-poster bed in the middle of a predominantly beige room.
It only took a moment before the day’s events rushed back to me.
Blood.
Vampire.
Colter.
“Hello?” the voice called again, and I jumped up from the bed and hurried down the short hallway that led to the living area.
A tall woman with light brown hair stood in the living room.
“Oh, there you are,” she said. She looked me up and down, as if sizing me up. “Colter sent me to check in on you. I’m Rory.” She smiled at me, and I liked her right away. I didn’t know why—she was a stranger, and on Colter’s side, which should have been a red flag—but she had an easy smile and a soothing voice.
“Liv,” I said.
“Colter told me what happened. I’m sorry you had to experience that.”
“Are you?” I asked.
Rory nodded and pulled her ponytail over her head. “Witnessing a death does something to you in here.” She tapped her chest. “Besides, it’s messy stuff, and we don’t need it.” She smiled warmly at me.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Oh, right. I’m Colter’s friend.”
“I didn’t know he had the capacity for friendship.”
Rory laughed, a warm, pleasant sound. “I hear you loud and clear, but he can be a nice guy when he drops his hard exterior. He’s like a turtle, all hard shell, and that little head doesn’t pop out easily.”
Rory made Colter sound endearing. Were we talking about the same guy? The killer I’d just witnessed?
“I’m going to make coffee; do you want some?” Rory asked.
I nodded. Coffee might help to calm my shaking nerves. My heart fluttered in my chest, and I struggled to breathe, to think straight. Everything was wrong, and I was way out of my wits here.
I followed Rory through the large penthouse apartment into an incredible kitchen. Everything was smooth. The cabinets, counters, breakfast nook, and state-of-the-art appliances were all in varying shades of gray, and I was willing to bet the countertops were pure marble.
Rory walked to a large, expensive-looking coffee machine.
“What’s your pleasure?”
“Just black coffee is fine,” I said.
“Yeah? You can have anything you like…”
“I’m okay with black coffee.” I didn’t have the stomach for anything else. I felt sick.
Rory pressed buttons, making the machine hum to life. She placed a cup in the holder, and the machine gurgled coffee into it.
“What do you do for Colter?” I asked while I watched her.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not just his friend, right? I mean, you work for him in some way or another.”
