The jet's engine lulled me in and out of consciousness. I was stretched out on the sofa opposite Laurent, sitting at a table with his laptop and three others: Hassan, Marco, and Vittorio. The low hush of their conversation didn't reach me. Other members of Laurent's family sat scattered about the jet. The rest would take commercial and meet us in Flouril in the coming days.
I still didn't know exactly how many people belonged to House Sarkas. I vaguely remembered Vittorio mentioning something in the hundreds. Basically, a lot.
My eyelids drooped, the sight of Laurent going in and out of focus. I liked that I could see him from where I snoozed. I was groggy and exhausted. The past twenty-four hours had been a blur of training and last minute packing.
I'd gone to bed late, dripping with exhaustion. Laurent had come with hot chocolate and another plate of snacks, scones this time. I'd expected him to stay, hoped for a repeat our activities from the night before. I'd spent the entire day lost in a dreamy state of fantasy. Instead, he'd excused himself ten minutes after dropping by, leaving me disappointed.
I'd sat there alone, reassuring myself that it wasn't me. He'd wanted to stay. The tender way he kissed me suggested it, but he had a household to run and last minute matters to complete before our departure. I refused to take it personally, despite the inclination.
Sex had been significant for both of us. Unexpected, too. Not just because of what Zola had warned me of or what I'd witnessed in his memories, but because of the things it had done to me. A door in the recesses of my heart had been thrown wide open. I'd never known love. Never had someone who cared for me long enough to love them, except Ania, but that was a sisterly love.
This thing burning inside me was passionate and frightening and...dangerous. I'd taken Zola's warning and tossed it out the window. Something told me I'd regret that later...
"Lily," a voice murmured, accompanied by the light brush of fingers across my cheek. My eyelids fluttered open to find Laurent crouched beside me, his gaze darting over my face. My first look at him was like a punch to the gut. The softness in his expression put me in a chokehold. He caressed my cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.
"I hope I don't have drool on my face," I mumbled, snuggling deeper against my pillow. Someone had tossed a blanket over me—
"Beautiful, even if you do have a little," he teased, his thumb brushing the corner of my lips before he leaned in and kissed me there. My belly flopped. His jet was full of vampires; I could feel their eyes on me—on us. Yet, he acted as if no one existed but me.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked. "We will be landing soon. Something to drink perhaps?" My belly curled with heat. He chuckled. "Not that sort of drink, little flower, but soon, after we're settled."
"Good," I said, wrestling to sit up. He helped me, then got onto his knees, pressing mine apart to position himself between my legs. His head tilted upwards to look at me. He rested his forearms on the cushions, caging me between his arms. I looked him over, the black button down stretched across his broad shoulders, fitted to hint at the bulk of muscle beneath. My gaze tracked down to his belt and slacks, also perfectly tailored. I knew he was still in his dress shoes too, even if I'd kicked my own shoes off to go barefoot while flying.
The corner of his mouth tipped up. He noticed me checking him out.
I wasn't sure what we'd find in Flouril, but whatever it was, we'd face it together. "We should both be at our strongest for this," I told him, explaining away my desire for his blood, as if it had nothing to do with my wanting him.
"We will be," he said. A hesitation, and then, "Did you sleep all right?"
"Mmm-hmm," I mumbled, lifting my arms to stretch. The blanket fell away and my back arched. Laurent's eyes flared, tracking my movement, lingering over the straps of my tank top and exposed chest.
I blushed, relaxing with a sigh.
He ran his wide palms up and down my thighs, covering them with his large hands, squeezing. "Things will be a little hectic when we land. We will go to the town house first, just a few of us. The rest of the family will go to the fortress."
"Why aren't we going there first?" My brows knitted together.
"There are a few things in the city I must see to." His expression turned serious, focused. "Lily, things will not be as they were at our home in Braxton. Here, we must be very careful around our enemies. I must keep you close."
Weeks ago, that would have sounded awful. I couldn't help the giddiness that stole through me. To hide it, I sighed and said, "Does this mean you're going to drag me to all your boring vampire meetings?"
Someone nearby snickered.
"Hmm...I can imagine how painful that would be for you," he murmured in mock seriousness.
"How will I survive?" I groaned.
"Well, when you get bored, you may spend as much time as you wish checking me out," he decided. I choked. "I'll be the best looking one in the room."
"Cocky much?" I couldn't help my grin.
"You have no idea," he growled, leaning in to kiss me. This time his tongue slid between my lips, claiming me. I had to hold my breath to keep from groaning in front our audience.
A stewardess appeared and said something to Marco, who stood nearby. A moment later, she disappeared. "We're descending now," Marco announced.
"Come, sit," Laurent said, leading me to the open seat on his left, beside the window. He buckled me in before resuming his seat. My heart fluttered at the simple, affectionate gesture. I watched our descent while he typed away on his laptop, answering emails.
My mind tripped over the past few weeks, all the changes wrought in him, in me. He'd been cold and unfeeling. I wanted to believe it had been merely a facade. That there had always been something good in him, buried deep. But I'd also seen enough of his memories to know that his father had twisted him into something hard as steel. Something more vampire than human.
A frown threatened to break through my good mood. I fought it. Couldn't steel be reshaped if the forge was hot enough?
Was I that forge?
Was Zola wrong?
Could he love me someday?
My breath stilted as I caught sight of Genia, one of the largest cities in Flouril, where we'd be landing, where the majority of vampire society was located. I zeroed in on the sight of its waterways and orange rooftops. Laurent leaned in against me, gazing down over the sight. "Ah, there it is. What do you think?" His cheek was close enough to kiss.
I turned and pecked him, relishing in the feel of his stubbled jaw."It's beautiful. I can't wait to see it from the ground. Will we have time to explore?"
He pulled back to search my expression. "I will do what I can."
That didn't sound altogether promising.
We landed at the private airport was located on the outskirts Genia. Blacked out SUVs waited, taking some of us into the city and the rest to the fortress. As we drove, I all but draped myself over Laurent's lap to look out his window. Zola sat on my right in the other window seat. Laurent didn't seem to mind, running an absentminded hand up and down my back as he conversed with our driver in Flourilian. They switched out of it soon enough, but I only caught scraps of words, too interested in what was outside of our vehicle.
The buildings matched what I'd seen in photographs, in movies, and on TV. But seeing it in real life was completely different. More immersive, even from the inside of an SUV. The architecture transported me. It was finally sinking in. I was halfway across the world!
"Can we have pasta for dinner?" I whispered, pulling back until my face was nearly nose to nose with Laurent's. Zola chuckled. Laurent stopped, mid conversation at my interruption, giving me his complete focus. His lips twitched. "Sorry. I'm just excited."
"What kind of pasta?" Genuine curiosity.
"Any kind. I don't care. Just lots of it. And bread. And cheese. And wine." I bit my lip. "I'm really hungry," I confessed, still hushed, as if that made our conversation private, despite there being three others in our vehicle.
His expression softened, fingers caressed my cheekbone, coming to rest beneath my jaw. "Pasta it is," he confirmed, leaning in, brushing his lips to mine. "And whatever else needed to satisfy your hunger."
Blood—his blood.
I shivered, then turned back to the window. The conversation picked up again, Laurent's hand continuing its soothing motions on my back. We came to a stop outside a three story town house that looked similar to all the others, a combination of stone and cement walls, with arched windows.
"Here at last." Laurent unbuckled me from the middle seat before I could do it for myself, then climbed out and helped me emerge. "Don't worry about your things, Vittorio will manage."
Vittorio climbed out of another SUV as two unfamiliar faces emerged from the large arch leading into the building. They stood aside, hands clasped behind their backs, waiting.
"Is this it?" I looked up, taking in every detail.
"It is," Laurent confirmed. "You will be comfortable here, I think." I hummed, letting him take me by the hand. "Catina," he greeted, leaning in, kissing first one cheek, and then the other. "Paolo." He shook the male's hand, then pulled him into a one armed hug.
"Brother," they both greeted. Both hosts were stoic and richly dressed. Like all the other vampires I'd met, they carried an otherworldly aura about them, sure to draw eyes like a magnet. While Catina had obvious Flourilian features with olive skin, Paolo looked more Eastern Etpurian. Their eyes fell on me with obvious curiosity. They didn't react with shock.
"So, this is her," Catina said, appraising me. Unlike many gazes I'd received, hers was simply curious.
"Lily, this is my sister and brother, Catina and Paolo."
My lips parted, eyes darting between them. "It's good to meet you," I managed. I hadn't realized he still had siblings, but it made sense. Why wouldn't he?
"A bold move, Sarkas, bringing her into the heart of the vampire world," Paolo said.
Laurent didn't answer.
Catina and Paolo's attention shifted over my shoulder. Catina smiled, open and joyous. "Vittorio! Little brother," she sighed, opening her arms.
"Cat," Vittorio growled, stepping into her embrace before greeting Paolo similarly.
I felt a frown pulling between my brows. I'd assumed Vittorio was another of Laurent's children. This only illustrated how much more I had to learn about his family.
"Come," Catina said. "Let's get inside before we attract attention."
We emerged into a marble foyer, about a third the size of the receiving hall back at the manor in Braxton. My eyes flicked over everything, noting the obvious age of the place. It looked like a museum, with statues and vases. A thrill shot through me at the realization. Everything in here had to be hundreds of years old—no, older still—original artwork, original everything!
I stole a peek into an adjacent room with sofas and floor to ceiling tapestries. This place was a historian's dream. I didn't know where to fix my gaze.
"How about a tour?" Laurent murmured against the shell of my ear, his thumb stroking the back of my hand.
"Yes," I breathed, eager.
"Vittorio, have our things deposited upstairs, please."
"Yes, Sire."
More greetings between the others were exchanged as we moved deeper into the home. We left them behind as Laurent led me through several rooms on the bottom floor: a receiving room for guests, a kitchen, dining room, and small ballroom. The second floor had a private drawing room for the family in residence, which served many purposes, including the house library. There were also three suites. The third floor had six smaller guest chambers, bathrooms split between them. A small attic was neatly filled with boxes and other discarded, forgotten things. I had an urge to come up here later and explore; it felt magical to stumble upon a place like this, lost in time.
The townhouse was cozy, lived in.
"This will be our room," Laurent said, bringing me back to the second floor. My pulse surged—our room. I tried to tell myself it was because he wanted to keep me close, not because there were a limited number of accommodations and we were being economical.
The suite he'd showed me earlier now held my luggage, right next to a small suitcase of his. He strode to the double doors opposite the entry, sliding back the drapes. He pulled them wide, heading out onto a balcony that overlooked the waterway below. I glanced around, taking in the massive bed, large desk set into an alcove, the set of bookshelves, the sitting area, fireplace, and antique armoir.
There was an open door leading to a tiled bathroom. I peeked in, glancing over the aqua tile and massive claw foot tub. It was charming, vintage.
My eyes caught on a suit of armor beside the fireplace. I went to it, running my fingers over the cold metal. Something from the Middle Ages. It definitely wasn't a replica. There were dents and blemishes. It had been kept well, but didn't hide the realities of war.
Had this belonged to Laurent? I could only imagine how frightening he would look in something like this. His opponents would have been terrified to face him.
I left the room, following him out onto the balcony. It spanned the length of our suite. My breath caught in my throat. Boats passed by below, some of them gondolas, others carrying wares or passengers. I wrapped my fingers around the iron railing and leaned over, inhaling the briny smell carried by the breeze.
A hand stroked down the length of my back. He'd been touching me a lot today. "Do you like it, little flower?" His voice was soft, hesitant.
"I love it—all of it," I breathed. "Can't we just stay here?"
"Some of the time we will, but I think you will like the fortress, too."
I braced my forearms on the railing, looking out over the water. The view along the channel was spectacular. It curved at both ends, disappearing among tall buildings. I could stand up here for hours, watching people pass by in boats. Some were tourists, others were locals.
"Is this normally your room?" I asked as we went back in. I grabbed my suitcase and pulled my things out, hanging them in the armoire. It was already half filled with suits and other items that looked like Laurent's.
"It is. It was my sire's before mine. Perks of being the head of a household, I suppose. The others don't always get the same room, depending on who comes and goes. Except for Catina and Paolo, who are in change of caring for both this house and the fortress."
"Your brother and sister. I didn't realize you had siblings." I'd simply assumed they were all his children, even Vittorio.
He shrugged. "In the loose sense of the word. We were all created by my father."
"But your father wasn't your biological father."
"Correct. He was the male who remade me."
"Hmm..." I looked him over, reminded of his memories. "He was an awful person, your father." The words were out before I even processed what I'd said.
Laurent's head twitched back, the movement almost too small to catch. His jaw tightened and he said, "My father did what he had to."
I blinked. Was he...defending that monster? "You don't really believe that, do you?"
His nostrils flared. "He and I are no different."
I snorted, ignoring the heat of irritation now prickling my skin. "You're nothing like him, Laurie. Your father was an awful, awful person. You hated him."
"We will not be having this conversation right now," he said, firm and unyielding. "Get settled. I'll be in the drawing room." He strode over, pressed a kiss to my forehead, then left.
I gaped after him. He was...angry? I'd seen him furious, but this was different. More of a suppressed, silent anger that he didn't want to turn towards me. So instead, he'd decided to run away.
I sighed, unpacking the rest of my things, lingering over some of his things in the armoire, running my fingers over the expensive fabric of several suits. I took a seat on the bed, forcing my shoulders to relax.
I didn't like the way he'd dismissed our discussion, but I couldn't force him to talk about the vampire who'd made him. I'd seen how his father had treated him, the way he'd killed Laurent's creations when he got attached. I'd seen how he'd made Laurent do his dirty work, killing families who crossed them, even children. I closed my eyes, letting my mind drift back...
"...I have chosen you as my heir, and I will train you as such. But mark my words, the moment you are no longer useful, I'll remove your feeling heart from your body, and you will be nothing, just as you were nothing before I rescued you from that cesspool you were wallowing in."
Did those words haunt him as much as they'd begun to haunt me? It hadn't been just the once. I'd seen many more memories where his father had threatened him with the same thing. To kill him if he failed to carry out orders. I'd felt Laurent's panic on several occasions, which made me wonder if he feared death even more than most humans feared it. Perhaps vampires understand better, how precious life was. How quickly it could be taken.
For him to claim that he and his father were no different—I hated that, because how could he think it was true?
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Laurent had shared his memories with me, something he'd never done for anyone else. I could only imagine how vulnerable that made him feel. Bringing up his father caught him off guard. That's why he'd fled.
I went into the en suite bathroom and freshened up. I changed from my travel clothes into a summer dress that fluttered in pastel shades, down to my feet. It had a low, open back, so I didn't bother with a bra. It was exactly the kind of dress Ania would wear, and certainly not my style, though I was trying to bring more color into my life.
I grabbed my phone and took a quick selfie, sending it to her, then I went out onto the balcony, trying to sort through my thoughts. A boat floated by and someone on board catcalled up to me. I snorted, glancing down at the rowdy group of men. One of them shouted something in Flourilian. I could only assume it was an inappropriate innuendo, based on the tone. I rolled my eyes, ignoring them as they drifted on past, watching the other boats glide by.
There was another balcony on this level. It was further down, part of the drawing room. The doors were likewise open. Voices carried out, tangled up in a heated discussion. I discerned Marco speaking, and several others.
I pushed off the railing and went inside, in search of the others. Laurent's eyes were on me the moment I entered the drawing room. I took in the space. Marco, Vittorio, and Zola were scattered. Catina entered right after me, carrying a tray with wine glasses and several bottles of wine. She strode across the room and began uncorking, pouring. Paolo entered a moment after, carrying a charcuterie board. My mouth watered. I was starving, both for food and...something more.
My eyes darted over towards Laurent. He was still watching me, taking in my fluttering summer dress. "Come here, little flower," he murmured. He held out a hand. I strode across the room to the window where he stood, looking out onto the balcony and beyond. His face softened. He pulled me to him, wrapping an arm low about my waist, kissing my forehead.
His lips dropped to my year. "You look beautiful." I flushed, feeling a room full of eyes on me. "Don't worry about them," he added, brushing his lips over the shell of my ear. I shivered.
"Laurie," I breathed, a warning. His low growl of a chuckle only made it worse. He released me, bringing his hand down to circle my wrist. He stroked his thumb over my pulse.
"Catina and Paolo have brought refreshments. They will have dinner ready in a couple of hours. Pasta, as you requested."
"Oh." My eyes darted towards them. I felt...uncertain.
Vittorio snorted. "Miss Shaw, I can assure you their cooking is as fine as mine, better even."
"That's not...I just don't want to inconvenience them."
Vittorio sighed. "My sister loves cooking as much as I do—more, even. It's been a long time since you've had a human to cook for, Cat. This one will love anything you make. But her especial favorite is cinnamon rolls."
Catina hummed, looking between me and Laurent, a strange expression on her features. Was it so unheard of for a vampire to fawn over a human? Or, was it just because it was this particular vampire. "I would be happy to make whatever you request, Miss Shaw," she informed me.
"Thank you," I croaked.
She covered the distance between us with two glasses of red wine, handing one to me first, and then Laurent. I hid my surprise at her having served me first. I watched as Laurent sniffed, then took a small sip and hummed. "Good."
I brought mine to my lips. The other glasses were circulated.
"I think this moment calls for a toast," Zola said, getting to her feet. She was dressed in a black sequins gown that had silver lines running out from the center near her stomach. She lifted her glass. "To a successful season. May we catch whoever is behind our crisis and make them suffer for it."
We toasted. I took another sip. The wine was light and crisp, a blend of some sort. I'd been enjoying expensive wine for weeks now, and finally beginning to taste the difference. I still wasn't anywhere near a refined palette.
"And to Miss Shaw," Vittorio added, "may she enjoy all Flouril has to offer."
"To Miss Shaw," the others toasted. I drank again. Laurent released my wrist, only caress my bare back. The hairs at the nape of my neck pricked into awareness.
"I like this dress," he murmured against my ear.
A yip interrupted us as Hassan strode into the room. "Well, someone enjoyed her walkies."
I burst into laughter, all the seriousness of the past few minutes fading. "Walkies?"
"You said it, not me," he accused.
"I'm just a puny human. You're an immortal vampire using the word walkies."
"Go pester your mommy," he growled, turning Cinnamon towards me before striding to the table and helping himself to a glass of wine and a ball of cheese.
"Hi sweetheart," I crooned, crouching as Cinna came and nosed about my skirts. She tried to bite my dress but I redirected her mouth to my hand instead. "I think she wants her chew toy," I decided.
"Oh, here." Hassan reached into his pocket and pulled out a little rubber bone. I withheld a snort. He was growing fond of her. They were good for each other.
I glanced up and found Laurent watching me with an unreadable expression. Hunger, maybe? It cleared when he caught me looking up at him.
My stomach growled. I gravitated towards the table and helped myself. Conversation resumed. I was content to snack and listen as Laurent plotted with the others, updating Catina and Paolo on the finer details over the past few weeks.
They soon left to prepare dinner. Eventually I found myself alone on the balcony, staring out over the channel again. The sun began setting, its gold rays casting patterns across the water. It was beautiful. I wondered why anyone would want to live anywhere else—why Laurent didn't live here instead of spending so much time in Braxton.
Something told me it was the memories he carried. Memories of his father. I hated a person who wasn't even alive. How much of what his father had done had shaped Laurent? And would it always chase after him, or was there something I could do to help him see past it?