“You aren’t thinking. That is precisely the problem. You think that I’m revealing my bigotry, but you’re missing the bigger picture.”
“This should be good,” I grumbled. “What am I missing?”
“What is above us in the food chain?”
“Nothing.”
But she shook her head. Her voice teetered on the edge of a whisper, but her words filled the room as she quoted, “I saw pale kings and princes too. Pale warriors, death-pale were they all…I saw their pale lips in the gloam with horrid warning gapèd wide.”
“That was written by a human.” It seemed important to point out.
“An unusually perceptive one.” Sabine had been fond of the fragile Keats. She hated the girl he was meant to marry, too. But Sabine was not wrong about Keats or his poem. “Her blood sings you the canticum ad infinitum. You know what the trouble is? It’s not that you’re screwing a pretty little human. She’s something more than human.”
Sabine had always seemed closer to the gods than most vampires I’d met. Some said Hecate herself had given her otherworldly sight. I imagined she’d lived long enough to always have the measure of those around her. It was better than thinking she could read minds. Still, there was something about Thea. Something even I didn’t understand. If Sabine thought she heard…
I had hoped the vampire in the loo was a coincidence. Now…
No, I stopped myself. It was a game, meant to draw me away from a companion my mother found unsuitable. I’d almost fallen for it. I’d almost forgotten that my mother had won as many battles with her wits as her weapons.
Thea was human. I’d held her in my arms. I’d touched her. I’d watched pleasure overcome her fragile, mortal body.
“Every vampire thinks they hear the blood-song from time to time. You’re probably hungry,” I drawled, even as my fingers tapped a frantic beat on the mantelpiece.
I blinked and found an antique blade at my throat.
It seemed my mother was taking matters into her own hands.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THEA
A nightmare roused me, and I rolled over and found myself in an empty bed. Outside, pink light dusted the San Francisco horizon as the sun began to rise. Inside, a fire crackled in a marble hearth. I felt the warmth of both like a living thing inside me. But it wasn’t the sun or the fire, it was a spark that hadn’t been there before. Julian had promised me the world. Last night was my first glimpse and it would stay with me forever.
The room itself was larger than the entirety of my apartment and furnished with antiques that probably made collectors weep. I drank it in, realizing I’d been too far gone to notice any of it last night. Memories of yesterday burst through me, and I began to shiver as I recalled the number of times Julian had taken me apart–and put me back together again. The memories stoked that lingering spark into a hungry thrum inside me. I gathered the sheets and hugged them to my body, wondering how dangerous it was to walk around the Rousseaux mansion. The party had started late. Considering it was an orgy, I guessed it was still going.
I could either wait here for Julian to come back to me, or I could seek him out. My legs slipped out of bed, and I stood, dropping the covers behind me. It took me a few minutes to gather my belongings and get my dress zipped up. I was almost to the door when it opened to reveal a complete stranger.
“I’m sorry.” The silver-haired woman stared at me a moment, as though she might blink and find I’d vanished. “I didn’t expect to find anyone in here.” She looked me up and down, a smile forming on her face. “You must be Thea.”
I swallowed and nodded. It was embarrassing enough to wake up in a huge bed alone. It was somehow worse to be caught doing the walk of shame, especially since it was the first time I’d ever done it.
“I’m Celia, Julian’s assistant,” she said, continuing into the room. She carried a tray to the other side of the room, cradling it in one arm as she reached for the handle of a French door.
“Let me!” I rushed over to help rather than continue to watch her.
Her nostrils flared slightly as I came close, but she only smiled at my offer to help.
“Julian prefers coffee in the morning. Although he never actually drinks it,” she said. She opened two large French doors with one hand, revealing a small balcony, and placed the tray she carried in her other hand on a stone table. “I didn’t realize you had stayed the night. Would you like something? Breakfast?”
“Coffee would be great,” I said quietly.
“Use his cup. I’ll get another.”
“I couldn’t–”
“Nonsense. Julian would want me to see to your wishes in his absence.” She sniffed again.
I got the impression she was smelling me. Oh my god, did I smell like sex? Not that we’d had sex! But I had spent most of the night in a state of sheer, sweaty bliss while Julian introduced me to what I’d been missing.
“Okay.” I bit my lip, somehow feeling even more out of place than when I showed up to the orgy last night. I moved to join her on the balcony and picked up the delicate china cup she’d brought him.
Her gaze swept over me. “And perhaps a change of clothes?”
“You really don’t have to go to so much trouble.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “It’s no trouble. There will be something in Camila’s room. It might be a bit dated, though.”
“Camila?”
“Julian’s sister,” she told me.
“His twin.” I felt a surge of curiosity about her. They still kept her things. When had she died? I couldn’t ask Celia any one of these questions. “It won’t upset him to see me in her things?”
Celia tilted her head and studied me for a moment. “Humans can be so thoughtful. Well, some of you can be, but others…” She forced a smile. “No, it won’t. I’m certain I’ll find a dozen items she never wore with the tags still on.”
“If it’s–”
“If I might give you a piece of advice,” she interrupted me. “You’ll never survive this family if they think you are weak. If one of them offers you something you want, take it without apology.”
