CHAPTER 31
Larson and I sat across from Nathan. We were in his upstairs office, debriefing him on what had just gone down in his basement. Actually, Larson was the one recapping. I was still in shock—though, not enough that I hadn't brushed my teeth prior.
Kelsey was in the room, too, but she wasn't sitting at Nathan's desk with the rest of us. Instead, she was admiring Nathan's collection of vintage books and artifacts, aesthetically placed in a large mahogany oak bookcase. Larson and I had picked her up on our way to look for Nathan, so she already knew Atlas was dead.
We hadn't told Nathan yet, but he apparently had assumed as much. "Did you manage to learn anything before you killed him?"
I could tell from his tone, Nathan expected us to give him disappointing news. His expression was surprised when Larson admitted otherwise.
"Really? So you discovered something about Viktoriya's demon?"
Unable to answer, I stared into my lap. I'd found out much more than that.
"Indeed," Larson nodded.
My mind wandered from the conversation. I couldn't stop thinking about my mother. How could she? There was no reasoning, of course, that would excuse her actions. She'd messed around on my dad. Not just that, but she'd been disloyal to all of us. I felt betrayed.
All this time, I'd thought my ability to see the damned was just an unfortunate chance of nature. Occasionally, I even felt I'd somehow brought it upon myself. Knowing I wasn't to blame was a weight off my shoulders. Now, however, a feeling of anger and resentment replaced the weight of my guilt. It had been my mother's choices—not mine—that had led to my curse, and the undoing of our family.
If, two hours ago, anyone had told me I'd hate someone more than Roland, I wouldn't have believed it. But I did. I hated my mother more than anything. After all, if it wasn't for her, I'd have never crossed paths with the demon in the first place.
Larson's voice pulled me back from my trance. "Atlas was Nephilim."
Nathan looked at me. His expression was odd. It was partly sympathetic, and partly an emotion I couldn't place. Pained? Guilty?
"What's that," Kelsey asked, coming to stand between Larson and me.
"Half demon, half human," Larson explained.
Nathan was still watching me. It gave me an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"Yikes," Kelsey said, winning the Understatement of the Year Award.
"And," I said, watching the enigmatic man across from me. "According to Roland, so am I."
Kelsey gasped, but didn't say anything else. Nathan, on the other hand, didn't even bother to look surprised.
"You knew, didn't you?" I thought I might be sick again.
He continued to stare. "I had my suspicions."
My throat felt tight, and my nose started to sting from the effort not to cry. "Why didn't you tell me? A warning would have been nice."
"They were only suspicions, Viktoriya. I was not certain. Even if I had shared with you my theory, would have believed me?"
I bit my lip. "I don't know. Maybe. Regardless," I said, tearing up and almost losing it, "you should have tried." Maybe then, it wouldn't have been such a painful shock.
I rose from my seat, and left the room without another word. I managed to make it to my room before breaking down. As soon as my door was shut behind me, the tears started to fall. Falling onto my bed, I buried my face into my pillow, hoping it would muffle my sobs.
I stayed like that for over an hour or so, until I had no more moisture in my body to shed. It was 3:00am by the time I started to drift off. That is, until a soft rapping at my bedroom door disturbed me.
I didn't answer. I wasn't in the mood to see anyone. So, I pretended to be asleep, and hoped my visitor would take the hint.
They didn't.
My door softly creaked open, as my bedroom intruder let himself in. I heard light footsteps approach, and then my bed dipped as this person sat on the edge. I could feel Larson leaning over me—I knew it was him from his aftershave, which was nothing like Nathan's fresh, woodsy outdoor aroma. Larson's sent was sensual, and rich with a hint of spice, but not overpowering.
"You can quit pretending to be asleep, love. I heard your heart speed up when I knocked."
I opened one eye for a peek, and glared with it. "I was almost asleep."
He gave me a half-hearted smile. "And she still has enough in her to attempt an attitude."
I wasn't just what he said, but how he said it that almost had me crying again. Larson seemed to pick up the fact that I was teetering on the emotion ledge again, and he looked a little uncomfortable.
He quickly changed the subject. "Kelsey went to bed." At my guilty expression, he explained, "She's staying in the other guest room—she didn't want to bother you—though you might want some space."
Yes and no. I didn't want to talk about it, and I really wasn't up to being social. At the same time, though, I didn't want to be alone. Totally contradicting, but that's how I felt.
He continued, "She did want me to tell you, however, that should you wish for company, that all you have to do is wake her."
"That's sweet, but I don't want to bother her with my problems."
"Would you like to bother me with them?"
That made me smile briefly. "Thanks. But honestly, I'd rather not talk about it. Not tonight anyways. I just want to sleep."
Larson watched me intently, before nodding once. He stood up and kicked off his shoes. When he reached for his belt, I freaked.
"Woah, Larson. I think you misunderstood. There was no 'together' at the end of that sentence."
He briefly paused from undressing to look at me. "Well aware, love. My hearing is still as impeccable as ever," he said dryly.
Larson yanked off his belt and threw it to the ground, but he kept his pants on. When he started toward me, I bolted upright.
"Then what the hell do you think you're doing," I asked, eyes wide.
My gaze followed him as he walked around my bed to the other side. He stopped and stared me down. " After living a couple decades, my ability to read people—women in particular—has improved significantly. And right now, I can tell you don't want to be alone. So, what do I think I'm doing? Well, love, I think I'm staying the night."
He pulled out one of the extra pillows from under the blankets, fluffing it before placing it over the comforter. Then without another word, he slid onto my bed, sprawling out on top of the sheets.
I cocooned myself in the comforter. "Oh," I said, staring. He had his arm under the pillow, propping up his head so he could look down at me. He gave me a fleeting smile before looking serious again. "Turn around," he ordered.
I raised my brows in question.
He rolled his eyes. "Just do it. I promise to be a gentleman."
Reluctantly, I rolled over so my back was to him. The bed moved as he scooted closer to me. Larson pressed himself against my back—the comforter acting as a barrier—and wrapped an arm around me. We lay quietly like that for some time, until I began to relax under his hold. It was comforting.
I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Thank you, Larson."
"Don't mention it," he said, his breath tickling my neck. "Seriously, this stays between us. Don't want anyone to think my hearts gone soft."
I giggled. "So, vamps do have souls."
"I wouldn't go that far," he said, his tone suddenly grave.
"I would," I told him, finding his hand and squeezing it. He squeezed back.
We fell asleep like that, or at least I did. I still wasn't sure if vamps really slept of not. The morning light that filtered through Nathan's windows woke me. I could still feel the weight of Larson's arm on me. He must have stayed like that all night. I rolled over to face him, and his arm remained around me. Larson was awake, staring back at me with hooded green eyes.
"Sleep well?"
One corner of his lips pulled up into a half smirk, when I pulled up the blanket to cover my morning breath as I answered him, "Best sleep of my life." Then, it dawned on me, and I sat up in a frenzy.
"Woah, woah," he said, sitting up and protecting himself from flying limbs and blankets.
"The sun!" I shouted, belatedly realizing daylight and vampires did not mix.
He laughed. "It's fine," he reassured me. "Nathan's windows are tinted. I wouldn't burst into to flames anyway, unless I was in direct sunlight."
"But—but," I stammered, still not confident he was safe. "I've never seen you walking around the house during the day."
"And, normally, you wouldn't. I have to sleep to, you know." Well that solved that mystery.
"Oh," I scanned him over, just to make sure. He was a little paler than usual, and he had dark circles under his eyes, clearly exhausted, but he wasn't smoldering or anything. I took that as a good sign. Leaning back against the headboard, I allowed myself to relax. Well, only a little, I was still keeping a close eye on him. If he even started to sunburn, I'd be ready to roll him up in the comforter, and make a vampire burrito out of him.
It was only for a moment, but as I studied him, his expression changed. It was subtle, and only noticeable in his emerald gaze. The hard, stubborn, sarcastic parts of him were replaced, and he looked kind and gentle, innocent even. For the first time since meeting him, I was catching a glimpse of who he must have been in his human life. A hunter, sure, but he was also a protector, and a nurturer. I idly wondered if he'd been a father. Appearance-wise, I'd guesstimate him to be in his late twenties, which isn't very old nowadays. Two-hundred years in the past, however, they did things a little differently. And if he'd had kids, he'd probably have had a wife as well. It was a surreal thought.
Before he could hide his vulnerability behind another hard wall, I lifted up and got in a quick kiss on the cheek. Almost immediately, he reverted to his old, cocky self again. His smile reached his eyes, which looked mischievous in the morning light.
"No doubt I deserved that, but—and just so were' on the same page—why?"
I found myself fighting not to get all choked up. I blamed it on PMS and the stress of yesterdays enlightening events. Feeling stupid for how emotional I was becoming, I shrugged.
When he waited for a response, I said in all honesty, "For having plenty of opportunities to disappoint me, but never taking advantage of them." I gave myself a mental pat on the back for keeping the tears at bay.
Larson sighed, then propped himself up next to me so he could stare me down more efficiently. "Although it goes against my nature, and I'm sure you don't want to hear it considering you're still upset with him—"
"If you're going to defend him—"
"I am."
"—Well, don't," I said, folding my arms. I was still wearing my wrinkled outfit from yesterday. No doubt my bed-head was in a disarray. I was a pissed off hot mess. Well, I hadn't been pissed off. Until now.
He got right up in my face. "Hear me out, okay?"
I just stared back at him defiantly.
He didn't back down though. "I'm not saying you don't have the right be angry, even hurt—you do. Frankly, I'd be worried if you weren't furious."
Tears of frustration formed along my waterline. I tilted my head slightly to stare at the ceiling, trying not to feel.
"But," he continued, "You're anger is misdirected. Be mad at your father—your biological, demonic one. Or angry with your mother for having an affair in the first place. Nathan, though, has done nothing to deserve all your misplaced fury—"
"He lied," I ground out.
Larson was quick to correct me. "No, he didn't. He never once said, 'Viktoriya, you are human without a shadow of a doubt. I know this to be fact, so do not fret that you may one day learn otherwise'."
If I wasn't in such a sour mood, I might have laughed at Larson's impeccable impersonation of my stoic, too-formal bodyguard.
"Honestly, love, if I'd had suspicions, I would have kept them to myself, too." At my offended accusatory expression, he explained, "I've been around long enough to know the messenger is usually the one to take the bullet."
I opened my mouth to argue, but he continued on, dead set on making his point. "Admit it. If he'd voiced his concerns, you'd have thought him a liar with some kind of unfathomable agenda. At the very least, you would have been pissed off and offended by such an accusation. On top of that, you'd have thought him less credible for wrongly believing you could have a drop of 'bad blood' in your veins."
I closed my mouth, which I'd left hanging open since my attempted argument. I didn't bother to disagree with him now. In all fairness, that sounded exactly like how I would have reacted. And it only took me ten seconds to acknowledge the truth in what he said. That had to be a record.
I pursed my lips, not liking the feeling of being wrong.
"Don't take this the wrong way, love, but you're being ridiculous. These past three months, Nethaneel has done everything in his power to protect you. Don't turn your back on him now, just because Roland beat him to the punch line."
"Fine," I said resigned. The old, semi-wise bastard had a point, as much as I hated to admit it. Focusing all my anger towards Nathan was a lot easier than coming to grips with the fact that I was half a goddamned—no pun intended—demon. Or rather, Nephilim, whatever the hell difference that made. The fact had yet to register fully with me. I was probably just in shock. Or denial. Or both.
"It does explain a lot," Larson mused.
"Right, I said snidely, "Guess my demon-sense should have been a major clue."
He chewed his bottom lip as he stared at the ceiling looking thoughtful. "Yes, well, there is that. But in hindsight, there were other hints as well. You improved significantly, and rapidly, during training. You're stronger than your petite frame, and reason, suggests you should be. The most obvious, though, should have been your recovery time. I hardly ever saw a bruise on you—they disappeared just as quickly as they formed.
"And let's not forget your little kidnapping stunt that nearly got you killed. Yes, my blood would have healed you eventually, but not at such remarkable speeds. It must have been the combination of our blood that resulted in such rapid healing. In any case, I should have had some notion that you weren't human."
I shook my head. "No, you're right. It wasn't yours, or Nathan's , responsibility to be up to date on my genealogy. I'm actually kind of impressed Nathan even seemed to think being Nephilim was a possibility..." Something in my brain clicked. I stopped midsentence to look wide-eyed at Larson. "Is that it? Is Nathan like me?"
Larson stared back at me, a slow smile forming on his pale, full lips. "You have no idea, do you?"
I noted he hadn't actually answered my question. "Not really," I confessed.
"Well, then," he smirked. "Don't let me ruin the surprise."
Just as I was about to open my mouth to, I don't know, try to convince him to tell me anyway, he cut me off.
"If Nethaneel wishes you to know, he'll tell you himself."
I sighed, rolling my eyes. Nathan had said the same thing about Larson when I'd asked him about the details surrounding Larson's transition to vampiredom. Larson apparently noticed the sudden spark of curiosity that flickered across my expression.
"What," he asked, looking amused.
I wanted to ask, but quickly realized I didn't have the nerve. He was in such a good mood—I was feeling a bitter, too—and I didn't want to ruin it if my question brought up unpleasant memories for him. I remembered the despairing look on Nathan's face and how he'd basically said Larson hadn't been given a choice in the matter. And really, Larson's story wasn't relevant, and nor was it any of my business, so why even bring it up? As curious as I was, that was one story I didn't need to know.
"Nothing," I said finally, patting his arm. "How about some breakfast?"
His wicked, boyish smile did nothing to hide his fangs. "You offering, love?"
I threw off the covers and climbed out of bed. Larson remained in his spot watching me lazily.
"Not in your unnatural lifetime," I teased. I pointed to the door, "Out. I need to get dressed."
He smirked, his smoldering green eyes taking on that familiar playful look. "I can stay and help."
I crossed my arms, shaking my head, fighting and failing to keep back a smile. "Never gonna happen, bat boy."
Larson rolled out of bed, his hair a little mussed, wearing a devil-may-care expression. He leisurely strolled over to me, taking his sweet, sweet time. When he stopped in front of me, I rolled my eyes theatrically.
He leaned forward, brushing his lips against my ear. I wasn't completely unaffected. Larson was extremely charming, and not to mention incredibly attractive. His flirting was fun and amusing, but that was about it. Unlike Nathan's presence, Larson didn't make my heart race. Well, he did, but that was due to adrenaline or fear for my arteries. I didn't feel an electrical pull, or some unseen magnetic force drawing me to him. Granted, the one kiss he'd imparted on me outside of Club V was seriously hot, but it didn't even come close in comparison to the one I'd shared with Nathan.
"Never say never," he said, his lips smiling against my ear.
I placed my hand against his chest, and pushed slightly to put some space between us. "Sorry, boo, but you're not my type," I teased him lightly.
He smirked, and looked amused. "But Nethaneel is?"
I stared back at him, stunned. He didn't even know I kissed him, how would he know I liked him? Was I that obvious?
"You're not overly obvious," he replied, answering my silent question.
"Christ," I said, finding my voice. "You can read minds, too?"
Larson chuckled. "No love. I'm undead—not clairvoyant. I simply have years—centuries actually—of experience. It's clear to me you're pining. You practically broadcast your thoughts in your very telling expressions. "
I made a mental note to work on my poker face. "Good to know," I told him, sounding about as embarrassed as I felt.
Slowly, his smug expression transformed. He suddenly looked serious, and regretful. "I hate to break it to you, love—truly, I do—but you and him...that can't happen." His gentle tone was apologetic.
I closed my eyes in a long blink and nodded once. "I know."
When I reopened my eyes, Larson was staring back at me with a quizzical expression. "You do?"
I nodded again, giving him a besieged shrug in response. "For one, it's obvious the feeling isn't mutual—"
"Oh, is it," he asked with one mocking brow raised, obviously finding something amusing in that statement.
I glared. "Yeah. It is. And even if they were, it wouldn't matter. I could never get involved with a colleague."
Larson laughed, "Colleague?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Larson. It's when two people work together. Get acquainted with a dictionary," I said, even though I knew his vocabulary could kick my vocabulary's ass any day.
He chuckled, a low sound in his chest.
"And, anyways," I continued, "I'd just feel wrong about it—paying him to work for me, while dating on the side."
Larson was quiet, his expression bemused. "You're paying him for his aid, love?"
I failed to hide my sarcasm. "Yeah, you know, like exchanging monetary goods for services rendered." Then, I dropped the snark, realizing Larson was probably wondering why I was paying Nathan for his help, but not him.
It definitely wasn't fair, since the vamp had helped me out equally as much, if not more, with all the self defense lessons, telling me how to kill a demon—though, that was pretty much useless information since I wasn't about to do it—and finding out the identity of Kat's killer. I majorly owed him.
I rushed on to explain, "I made the deal with him before I met you—I'd have offered you the same courtesy, but seeing as how Nathan drives a hard bargain, I'm on a very tight budget. But hey, if I ever win the lottery, you'll get your dues, too."
The way he studied me was unnerving. Until, a slow smile spread across his face. He shook his head, disbelieving. "Nethaneel? Driving a hard bargain?" His eyes twinkled at the thought. He laughed, "I don't believe it."
"It's true, I swear—"
He waved off my declaration. "Oh, it's not you I don't believe," he said mysteriously. "Come, breakfast is nearly read."
"How do you—"
The vamp tapped his ear with a finger, reminding me of his supersonic bat hearing. Then, I realized I still shared that same ability. My hearing wasn't as sharp as it had been last night, but considering I was upstairs, in my room with the door closed, and I could still hear clinking dishes from the kitchen where Nathan was no doubt setting the breakfast table, was pretty impressive. I could even smell eggs and sausage.
On the plus side, I wasn't nauseous or disoriented like I'd been last night. Either I was getting used to it, or my improved senses were slowly losing their potency. If that were the case, how much longer would it last? Then, I had the horrifying realization that this could actually be permanent.
Great. Like I needed to be any more of a freak than I'd been when all I could do was sense the supernatural.