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“Whenyousaidmodesthomestead, this is not what I pictured.”
I struggled to get a better view from the backseat, half of my body hanging out of the window as our car neared the countryside estate. “I knew you were rolling in it, Jordan, but this is insane.”
The vampiress beside me kept her eyes elsewhere, my words barely registering. Jordan had been distinctly quieter since the attack at the party. She and River had spent days hunting for Jeremy, knocking down on their mission to an unhealthy degree.
It had been her idea to ship out to her personal estate, far out of the bounds of the city. It seemed like a last resort, one last-ditch attempt to protect me from her world.
I had reiterated time and time again since then that I was already knee-deep in the supernatural. It was gory and terrifying at times, but I couldn’t simply forget about it all and go back to my old life now. Leaving this world behind would mean leaving Jordan, and I wasn’t ready to do that just yet.
Seeing Jordan transform had been disquieting and unexpected. But even when she was hunched over me and morphing in front of my eyes, it had not crossed my mind to be afraid of her. Seeing her hurt had been a truly terrifying factor. Seeing her hesitate to approach me had been the final straw.
I glanced over at Jordan again. The vampiress chewed at her nails absently, her other hand fisting the fabric of her skirt. Maybe a holiday in the country would be good for her.
The estate was grandiose, sprawling acres of greenery and an old-money building nestled amongst the trees. Jordan’s inherited home was something out of a fairytale, and a far cry from her minimalistic apartment in the city. Vines staked around the old French windows, drooping to the ground and mingling with the overgrown foliage below. Dylan’s sleek, black vehicle felt out of place on the gravel road—two centuries too late to fit with the superannuated surroundings.
Jordan climbed out of the car and stomped to the back to haul our bags out of the trunk. A delusional part of me expected her to take my hand and kiss it while she bowed, leading me out of the modern carriage like her personal Cinderella.
But my vampire was in a grouchy mood and my request was met with a grunt. I hauled my ass out of the backseat before she carried me to the front door over her shoulder like she was doing with the luggage.
Jordan didn’t bother knocking, toeing the door open with her boot and plodding inside like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. I hesitated on the threshold. Jordan had mentioned that her mother was around. She had also mentioned that the woman would be none too pleased about having a human on her property.
I glanced over my shoulder at Dylan, pleading with my eyes for backup, but the other woman only shot me a sympathetic smile before hauling the car into reverse and speeding away.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered to myself. I dawdled for a few more minutes, hoping that Jordan would notice my absence and come fetch me. But the vampiress was clearly preoccupied and I had begun to feel rather silly standing out there.
The interior proved just as lavish as the exterior, cluttered with paintings and portraits and a plethora of other trinkets taking up every available space. The walkway was clothed in an expensive-looking rug, so breathtakingly ancient and unbelievably intricate that I felt guilty walking on it with my mundane 21st century shoes.
Jordan was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear her faint stomping echoing through the doorway to my right. I tiptoed after the sounds of her passage, taking care not to disturb a collection of hand-painted pots and vases along the way.
An eerie unease rippled over me as I walked, raising goosebumps up my arms. I couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. But the hallway around me was empty.
When the thumping halted, I paused, hovering at another large doorway. The door stood slightly ajar and I gently pushed it open.
“Jordan?” I hissed, and risked a glance inside.
The red-headed vampire stood at the fireplace across from me. Only, her hair was shorter, her curls organized in an old-fashioned style around her shoulders. She was curvy, like Jordan, but clothed in a black evening dress with long, drooping sleeves and black corset clamped around her midsection.
Before I could backtrack, the woman turned, her piercing gaze rooting me to the spot. She looked like Jordan, if Jordan had been a 1950s movie star. Large luminous pearls glistened around her neck and two more dangled from her earlobes. Her skin was a milky white, emphasized by the striking red of her lipstick.
Sigrid. Jordan’s mother.
“Oh, uh. Hi.” I couldn’t help but glance down at my own attire, suddenly ashamed of my worn jeans and button-up—courtesy of urban outfitters. “I was just looking for Jordan. You must be Sigrid! It’s a pleasure to meet you, uh—ma’am?”
The woman stared back at me, a poised statue in the static environment. Her blank expression felt condemning in itself and I shrank away from her dark, piercing gaze.
“I’m Sky? I’m not sure if Jordan has mentioned me–”
“I know who you are,” the woman interrupted, her clipped voice echoing around the room. “I want to know why you’re here.”
I stood, stupefied in the presence of this commanding woman. “Jordan thought it would be safer here, so…”
I wasn’t sure what kind of answer she expected from me. I wasn’t even sure how much of the story Jordan had relayed to her mother, if anything.
The woman strode toward me in the blink of an eye and I flinched as she towered over me. “What do you want from my daughter?”
I paled at her accusatory tone, fumbling over my words as I searched my mind for a satisfying response. “Well, nothing I guess. I’m just kind of here for the ride–”
Suddenly my tongue was limp in my mouth, my body seizing up as if grasped by invisible hands. I tried to cry out in fright but no sound escaped me. Sigrid gripped my chin between her fingers, her black eyes piercing my very soul. I felt her probing into my mind, rooting around for any evidence of foul play against her daughter.
