“You look well rested. ” It was Holden’s voice, but I couldn’t find the man to match it.
I scanned the room and took in my surroundings as I searched for him. The space wasn’t at all what I expected from a vampire stronghold. For one thing, the floor-to-ceiling windows were out of step with protecting vampire safety.
The massive space reminded me a great deal of the top floor in Lucas’s penthouse, where one half of the entire area was dedicated to a big lounge-style living room with an unbeatable view of New York. Only here the view wasn’t of my beloved hometown, it was the glittery oasis of Los Angeles.
We must have been outside of the L. A. city limits because I could see most of the city sprawled out before us like a carpet of stars. What New York had in height, L. A. had in distance, spreading wider than I could see without shifting my position.
I hadn’t expected to like L. A. —that was the snobby New Yorker in me—but there was something beautiful about it, lit up orange in the early night sky. What I didn’t enjoy was discovering we weren’t in the city proper. Judging from the vantage point, I gathered we had to be up in the Hollywood Hills somewhere, and my extensive research with Us magazine told me that would put our neighbors at a distance.
Far enough away it would be difficult to get help.
Not that humans were all that helpful.
I sighed and continued to search the room for Holden. I found him nestled in a leather wingback chair near the fireplace—did every room in this building have a fireplace?—with his feet kicked up on an ottoman and a glass of whiskey in his hand.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” I snapped, unable to keep the irritation from my tone. I’d been well-behaved with Maxime, but I didn’t need to be polite to Holden. It might not have been nice of me, but my blood pressure was running sky-high, and I needed to project my anxiety onto someone. He was the best target because he’d still love me when I finished yelling at him.
“Well, it’s only a ten-year-old blend, but aside from that I can’t complain. ” He swished the amber liquid around in its lowball glass and smirked at me. We’d done this song and dance before, and apparently he didn’t feel the need to cower before my rage anymore.
That took half the fun out of it.
“Did you think it might be a bad idea to leave me on my own, locked inside a coffin when I woke up?” I crossed my arms, my gaze drifting from his smug facial expression to the drink. Damn that whiskey looked good.
So did his face, but I wanted to think about something other than how handsome he was. It was hard to be mad at someone if you were busy musing over how pretty they were.
“Want some?” He held the glass up to me, and I took it, swallowing some of the booze. The whiskey burned a friendly welcome glow from my throat down to my belly, soothing the savage beast within.
“You knew how I felt about being in there,” I reminded him, my voice low and soft to keep any tremor out of my words.
“Did you freak out?”
I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or honestly wanted to know. “I did. ”
“I’m sorry. ” For once he didn’t phrase it like a question. He sounded genuinely apologetic. “I didn’t plan to be gone long, and when I went back, Maxime said he had it under control. ”
“Ah, yes. About him…”
“Don’t worry about Max. ”
“No offense, Holden, but ever since I killed Charlie I haven’t been Rebecca’s favorite person. ” Never mind that Charlie Conaway had been a homicidal jackass, using his thrall to murder innocent girls. He’d also been Rebecca’s favorite based on her treatment of me following his death.
“Max is different. ”
“How is he different?” I sat on the leather ottoman in front of him, our knees touching. He made a move like a flinch when I sat, but it seemed as though he wanted to move closer, not farther away. He reclaimed the glass from my hand and settled back into the chair.
“I know you don’t like Rebecca much, but it’s clouding your opinion of her progeny. Have you forgotten she made me?”
“Did you ever consider you’re the reason I have a negative bias about her spawn?” I countered, but couldn’t keep from smirking.
“Now, now, Ms. McQueen. Keep talking like that and I’ll think you’re secretly in love with me. ” He tried to smile, but it faltered, making the guilty feelings I thought I’d left in New York swell up all over again.
What was I going to do with these boys? Why couldn’t we just have a nice, totally unrealistic, three-way live-in love relationship where Desmond cooked, Holden tidied and I brought home the bacon by bossing around every vampire on the East Coast.
Was that too much to ask?
I guess the fact vampires and werewolves hated each other, and my boys especially hated each other, wasn’t going to help make my fantasy pipe dream a reality. If I tried to imagine what living with them both would be like, it was a horror movie and a television sitcom all rolled into one. Holden would constantly be making dog jokes, and Desmond wouldn’t ever stop reminding me Holden was dead. Not the most romantic scenario.
And I only had myself to blame.