He knows about Drew. The realization hits me like a fist to the gut. For a terrible instant, all I want to do is leap out the window and run to the boardinghouse. What if Alexander has already sent his team there? What if there’s nothing left to find of the sweet human I cared for except blood smears and scattered body parts? No, Alexander Travesty likes having leverage—he wouldn’t give it up so easily.
As he finally opens the door, I catch a glimpse of the royal security team, clad in bullet-proof vests and holding assault rifles. For a brief moment, I meet Aaron’s gaze, the Vampire King’s most trusted guard. He was Turned years ago as a reward for his loyalty. Something strange passes over his expression, but before I can define it, the door closes between us.
They leave the same way they arrived—swiftly and soundlessly. Even after it’s evident they’re gone, I stand there, trying to keep the tears at bay. The Vampire King doesn’t deserve my pain.
A minute ticks by, and I begin to sway. Morning is approaching, unstoppable as an ocean wave. Heaving a sigh, I go to my bag, still resting on the floor near the door. Toothbrush and pajamas in hand, I enter the marble bathroom. Then, once the taste of sadness in my mouth has been replaced with mint, and my face is cleared of the dirt from this devastating day, I slide between clean sheets. They feel like silk against my skin, and I tell myself I’m glad Ada kicked me out. No more helpless, tempting humans sleeping all around me. No more shower schedules, washing dishes, or creaking floors.
And yet… I still watch myself reach for my phone, where it rests on the nightstand. Sorrow and disaster always make us seek the comfort friendship or family can provide. It’s a deeply-rooted instinct, like a tree that has been growing for a thousand years. Though I can’t actually call him—and I’m not sure I would—I stare at a single name on the bright screen.
The king’s words replay in my head. I will have his body mounted on the wall beside your mother’s.
A sob hurtles up my throat. I smash a fist against my mouth, though, keeping it contained. I know Alexander, and he’s as cunning as he is old. I wouldn’t put it past him to have planted a bug somewhere in this room. There should be a limit to how much humiliation one person can endure.
I put the phone back and roll over. More minutes pass, marked only by silence and unshed tears. It’s beginning to seem as though there’s nothing in life but the struggle and the dark. Suddenly, I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts anymore. I don’t want to be alone, period.
An idea forms in my head, and I glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It’s been a long night.
But it’s not over yet.
This is a bad idea.
Logically, I know I should return to the hotel and go to bed. Instead, my legs keep moving, the heels I snagged from a boutique near the hotel clicking against pavement as I approach a familiar building.
Glittering and beautiful patrons are lined up almost a block away from the entrance. I glance down at my simple black dress. It cinches at the waist, with cut-outs at my ribs, and flows to my knees. The deep neckline makes my usually unimpressive chest look, well, pretty damn good actually, so I’ve got that going for me. I’m pretending my skin isn’t tingling from the cold, knowing that once I get into the club my chest will be flushed with warmth. I didn’t bother doing anything with my hair, so it hangs in its usual waves just below my shoulders. It needs a trim, but that’s pretty low on my list of priorities. Right now, the list is simple.
One, get into the club.
Two, drink enough to forget what happened tonight.
Extra points if I wake up tomorrow without a hangover, but I’m not placing any bets on that.
The line moves agonizingly slow. The music from inside blares, then quiets again each time the bouncer opens the door. Above it, attached to the glass exterior, is a neon light that says Crimson. It bathes the sidewalk in red.
I’ve been here many times before, but never alone—and I’ve never had to wait in line to get in. The last time I was here—on the night before my Awakening—I entered on Cain’s arm. I also carried the prestige that came along with being a Travesty. The memory seems so distant now.
I wonder if Cain will be inside—I’m sure he’s found someone else to keep him company now. It doesn’t bother me, though I suppose I’m curious what my life would’ve been like if I’d ended up in Kin alongside him. Cain was never hugely intellectual, so I didn’t see a future together, but he was a lot of fun. Which is exactly what I need right now.
I keep my head down as the line moves, anxious that any number of the regulars might recognize me. I don’t know what the reactions will be, and I’m not in a hurry to watch people I once thought of as friends—like Julia—turn their back on me.
“Charlotte?” a deep voice calls out, and my head snaps up. I meet the gaze of Markus, one of the bouncers. He’s a shapeshifter with his wide, yellow eyes and pointed ears sticking out of his hair. “Shit, I thought that was you. Get in here, gorgeous.”
“Hey, Mark,” I say with a genuine smile.
“Damn, that dress should be illegal.” He makes no effort to be conspicuous as he checks me out. “How’ve you been?”
I blink at him. “Do you not watch the news?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry about all that shit with your family. That’s rough.”
I search the bouncer’s distinctly feline face, frowning. Something is off, my instincts whisper. His expression is too slack, his eyes too glazed. “Thanks,” is all I say, though.
An awkward silence hangs between us before Markus opens the door and gestures for me to go in. “Have a good night, Charlotte.”
“It’s Charlie now,” I tell him, then continue into the loud, dark room. After taking a moment to absorb the wave of noise and light, I head straight for the bar, weaving through all the dancers. I instinctively hold my breath, knowing that some of them are feeders. Even the thought makes my gums ache.
So much pumping blood, the monster deep inside croons at me. Just a little taste. You won’t hurt anybody.
I shove her voice into the dark recesses of my mind as I reach the bar and lean over the sticky countertop to get the bartender’s attention. I recognize the vampire instantly and smile just as she recognizes me and frowns. She’s probably not too thrilled to be serving a Lavender. “What can I get you?” Mia asks in a tight voice.
“Whiskey sour,” I tell her, forcing a polite tone even as she glares.
She nods curtly. “You want it spiked?”
“Please.” Maybe it will be enough to keep the monster in her cage tonight.
She walks away to make my drink while I pull out enough coins to cover it, plus a decent tip. Within a minute Mia comes back, sets a glass in front of me, and slides the coins off the counter to drop them into the apron at her waist. “Thanks.”
I open my mouth to tell Mia it was good to see her, but she’s already moved to the next customer. For an instant, my jaw tightens, my blood roars, and all I want to do is fly over this bar and show Mia just how much pain and stress is writhing inside me.
Instead, I turn and lean against the bar, stirring my drink with a thin straw as I look toward the crowd. Music and warmth fill the room in white pulses. I sip my drink as I take it all in, willing my screaming heart to calm.