Chapter 32

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Hi!

Sorry for posting only now, but I was sick - actually I still am, but the boredom is oppressive. So, here's the next chapter. I hope you like it!

Lara

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Chapter 32

I think I was hovering in a state between wakefulness and total unconsciousness. That part where you can’t really determine if the shadow in front of your retinas is real or not.

The memories were rushing back, invading my mind with a shitload of uncomfortable implications and thoughts about possible future scenarios. I think my dream-self was contemplating if she could yet walk away from Alexander without compromising the agreement. I also think she wondered what Alexander was going to do, now that he knew about her little ‘indiscretions’.

The door opened, neck-jerked me out of dreams and speculations. Limbs stiffened in a methodical lock-up. I could make out the sound of feet shuffling. Somebody was coming into the room. I held my breath. Was it Alexander?

Curiosity won this one. I opened my eyes slightly and released the air I had been holding. It was Jack, Alexander’s human servant. He set down a tablet with a glass of water and what looked like a plate of food on the table. Inwardly I snorted with disdain. I wouldn’t touch the food of this bunch of sociopaths with a ten foot pole.

Instantly my stomach gave a loud protest and rumbled. Traitor.

Jack’s head jerked up and I found a pair of brown eyes assessing me.

“I brought you breakfast. Eat. You look like you need it.” The parallelism of nonchalance and genuine calmness in his voice was as disturbing as it was unsettling.

I had misjudged him. I took him for the low bass type when we first met. Too bad. Since I didn’t like him anyway and surely wouldn’t warm up to him, I decided to ignore the bootlicker and closed my eyes again, snuggling back into the pillow.

When I felt him near me, I yanked my eyes open again.

The human servant was looking at me and for once there wasn’t a scowl plastered on his face. What exactly was up with him? The first time I met Jack in the VIP room of Club Ryon he made a lasting impression on me – namely that he was an uncompassionate a-hole. He glanced at my face for a long, uncomfortable moment.

“You look like shit.”

“You’re not exactly my idea of a hottie either,” I replied.

Jack’s brows knotted and twisted into the familiar scowl. There we were – back on familiar terrain. “I don’t know why I even bothered. Just eat the fucking food.” He turned around and was about to leave, but seemed to hesitate for an instant. “I heard that your shoulder’s wounded. There should be a tube of healing ointment somewhere in the bathroom. Try the vanity cabinet. From what I’ve seen you need it.”

“Jack.”

Tension ate itself through relaxed muscle tissue, senses suddenly spinning on high-level alertness. I knew the second voice too well. I shifted to face and accept the new threat. Alexander appeared in the doorway. For a brief moment I wondered why he came, before I found that, paradoxically, I was too much in pain to really care what he was here for now.

Alexander sighed. “Go now. I have to talk to her anyway.”

Hearing his voice was enough to bring back everything that had happened the night before. He threatened to walk into my mind and he could back up the threat with enough undead power to pull it off.

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