AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No.” Her voice is soft.
I don’t think she’s lying, but something seems wrong. I want her to tell me, but I don’t want to pry it out if she isn’t ready to share.
“I’m, of course, going with you,” she said, leaning against the deck’s railing. “That’s a given. But I’m worried. Worried I’ll get recognized, worried I’ll lose control again. Worried that I’m causing more harm to our family by being here than if I wasn’t.”
“Of course, you’re not-” she didn’t let me finish.
“I am yourweakness, Oz. You’re not so great and powerful if they can grab me and drag you into a war.” Her voice is strained with guilt.
“Wren,” I wrap my arms around her and lay my cheek on her head. “You didn’t have control before, but you finally merged your consciousness. That’s not going to be a problem again. I will make certain of it.” I see doubt flicker in her eyes, and I refuse to let her do this to herself anymore. She is perfect. She is a vampire, and a little setback that caused an unforeseen issue with the change won’t destroy the future we could have together.
“We will deal with recognition if it comes. And as far as people using you against me… You seem perfectly capable of holding your own. You’re new but not incapable, and my love, I guarantee you will be a fearsome creature to behold before long.”
Her arms entwine around my waist as she holds me close. I can feel the warmth of her body through her clothes. And as she presses her lips to mine, my muscles relax beneath her touch.
Soft.
Familiar.
Mine.
Ournewhomeislovely, albeit quite different from the house in the mountains. It is far more traditional. There have been updates to the plumbing and decoration, but there is no open concept, and much of the original woodwork remains. Restored and given new life over the years, it is beautiful.
We all have homes on the same block, making getting together effortless and enjoyable, but it is nice not being on top of one another all the time.
Charlee lives a few doors down with her live-in vampire girlfriend, a solo traveling vampire who has stayed in the city for three months longer than planned. Something Charlee takes credit for and makes her very proud.
Rolando is across the street and currently romancing a young lady who works at a coffee shop around the corner. We have a theory that she is his mate, but he can’t hear her yet and hasn’t hinted at a mate bond.
The triplets share a house at the end of the street and are as rowdy and goofy as ever. Zach and Chandra moved in right next door and are the best neighbors.
Oz and I have our place to ourselves, though coven members come and go as they please. It isn’t unusual for me to find at least two or three randomly strewn about. It is kind of like having the kids come home to visit.
As our new leader, Oz is quite impressive. He made it official with the council representative who came by. Apparently, it is common for someone to go into a city and address the coven leader to get information on changes in the area. It isn’t frequent, though they do make a point to stop by when rumblings reach them about a death or, in this case, many deaths.
His name is Nathaniel, and I feel tense around him for reasons I can’t quite explain. He praised Oz for removing Emerson, a feat he’d admitted they should have undertaken long ago. Something about that bothers me. If the whole point is to keep our existence a secret, why had they not moved against him at any point in time since Roanoke?
Was it because he was Leland’s? Did that grant him some immunity? Is there an unspoken rule about letting makers take out their maligned children?
It tickles the back of my brain and makes me wary, and when I’d shaken Nathaniel’s hand, he gave me chills. I haven’t voiced my concerns to Oz yet, wanting more information before I bring it to him, but I did ask Rolando to look into it. He’s agreed to keep it between us for now, at least until he has something to report about it.
My fears of being recognized so far have prove to be unfounded. I didn’t grow up here, and my parents live two hours away. My work was in the next town over, and while some of the people I worked with might live here, I doubt we’d interacted enough for me to leave a lasting impression.
Today I have a meeting with someone, and I’m not sure if I should be doing this. Instead of talking to Oz about it, I decide to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. A week ago, a letter told me to be at Lorenzo’s, a local Italian restaurant at one o’clock for lunch.
Sneaking out while Oz had been sleeping was easy, and I’ve resigned myself to telling him about the meeting when it’s over.
Stupid?
Probably.
Approaching the host, I reference the letter I was sent for a name. It may be the millionth time I’ve read it, but I still have no idea who it is. My research in our archives didn’t find them, and I hesitate to ask Rolando to keep another secret from Oz.
“Do you have a reservation?” the hostess asked, all chipper and filled with sunshine. Her bronze-colored name tag reads, “Becky.”
“Yes, I’m meeting someone. It should be under Leblanc.” I try to keep the edge out of my voice. My nerves are firing all over my body, and as the hostess leads me to a table, I shudder involuntarily.
At the table sits a beautiful woman. Her skin is sun-kissed and tan, and she has a Mediterranean look. Dark thick hair twists behind her head, and her full lips are painted red. She stands to greet me, and I see that her clothes are casual but nice. Dark linen pants that flare at the knee, swallowing her calves. A plain white blouse tucked in neatly. She’s wearing no jewelry beyond a sun-shaped pendant on a gold chain around her neck.
