Was it her imagination or were Elias’s muscles taut to the point of vibrating? “There is a difference between consequences and beating her own flesh and blood half to death.”
This was getting too real, too personal. They didn’t operate on this level. She was the slayer sent to end his objectionable existence and he was the cold, sarcastic visage of the man she’d once fallen for in a Vegas casino. She’d arrived in New York eighteen months ago with the intention of killing him, but always found an excuse to wait one more day. One more day. In the meantime, she’d made herself useful by staking vampires that she deemed a risk toward humans, but this man who was a definite risk? She couldn’t seem to seal the deal.
One night after arriving in New York, she’d found Elias and his friends, Jonas and Tucker, hanging out in a secret vampire pub. Instead of sucking on bones of the innocent and toasting their general evilness, she’d witnessed them counseling newbie vampires through the transition. Giving them money, guidance and a community. The Russian High Order were a bunch of ancient assholes who let their vampire subjects run amok. At the time, before Jonas took the king’s seat, the American High Order had been cutthroat as well, though with stricter rules than the Russians. She’d been raised to believe vampires rampaged without mercy. So she’d been surprised by the trio’s seeming…grace. Perplexed by their apparent goodness, she watched them from afar for months, but they never slipped up.
Roksana was perched on a rooftop watching them leave a different pub one night when Tucker looked up and invited her over to watch Netflix. Under the guise of keeping her enemies close, she’d accepted. She’d become grudging friends with Jonas and Tucker, while Elias usually spent their hang outs glowering at her from across the room. When the tension between them became too great, she usually skipped town for a few weeks to cool off, only to arrive back to an even more pissed off Elias than she’d left behind.
Yes, annoying him had become her favorite pastime and damn, did she excel at it. The scar-lipped vampire followed her from deep in the shadows at night, during her outings, always waiting and watching just out of her sightlines. But she held no delusions that he was concerned for her. Or that he was capable of romantic feelings for her. No. He merely wanted to return the favor he owed her. If he was angry on her behalf over the beating she’d taken, Roksana rejected the illusion of sympathy. It was too tempting to believe he was the kind of man who cared, instead of the monster who’d massacred her friends.
“You’re just pissed you had to come halfway around the world to give me a bath. Did you have to cancel a hot date or something?”
He chuckled under his breath. “Yeah. Had to cancel dozens of them.”
“You can probably make it back in time for at least one. Maybe two.” The jealousy swelled rapidly, even though she was responsible for inciting it—and what sense did that make? “I’m fine now to take care of myself. I was even thinking of looking up an old boyfriend—”
“And show up looking like your parachute didn’t open?” Elias growled the question. “You won’t be looking up anyone.”
In a snap, her worry was blanketed with stardust. Her world was free of worry.
“Yes, Elias,” she murmured obediently, before the worry and horror of the last twenty-four hours blew back in, scattering the protective layer of stardust from her thoughts. “D-did you just compel me?”
“I’m…” He trailed off with a curse. “I didn’t mean to. I can handle the blood, but try not to provoke me.”
She jolted, pain rippling through her limbs.
How in God’s name did it take this long to occur to Roksana that she was sitting in a bathtub tinged liberally with her blood, being held by a vampire? In her weakened condition, if Elias wanted to feed on her, kill her, she wouldn’t be able to fight him off.
Come on, couldn’t she even conjure a smidgen of fear over that fact?
“How long did it take you to learn such willpower?” she asked, her toes curling in the water when he dragged the washcloth slowly along the curve of her neck, loosening her tight muscles like magic. “We both know you didn’t possess any self-control in the beginning.”
For just a brief second, his ministrations paused. “Like I’ve told you hundreds of times, Roksana, I don’t remember anything about that night.”
“Convenient,” she managed around the object in her throat. “Would you like me to tell you again what happened?”
“No,” he said roughly. “Once was enough.”
How pitiful that guilt should turn down the corners of her mouth. What did she have to feel guilty about? Still… “Have you…blacked out the windows yet?” she asked lightly, her eyes roaming around the dim bathroom. “Not that I’m concerned for you.”