Room service. It takes me a second to catch up on why there are people cleaning rooms in the middle of the night. It isn’t the middle of the night. It’s morning.Merda, I never get up so early. I’m not used to this. Plus, I can’t leave. Not under the sun, not trailing her the way I wanted to. I close the door on the woman’s face and whirl around to make my way to the kitchen. My phone rests next to the half-emptied plate of food I ordered for Cassandra. I thought we were doing good. Building some trust. She seemed into me. It hurts a little to know she slipped away.
I can’t let it get to my head. Humans. I’ll have to learn to deal with it.
The moment I open my phone, some of my doubts clear. Twitter is open, and several of the trending topics refer to last night. Cassandra’s name and picture are all over the news, and people aren’t happy with the death of said Chosen One. A chuckle escapes my lips. Did people even care about that piece of garbage? Or was it the fame that did them in?
Humans and supernaturals alike can be that hollow. If a rascal is famous, you can sit back and watch everyone waiting in line to bend their knee. And this kid was the apex.
I was still young when it happened. After centuries of being responsible for keeping the night creatures in the Cursed Realm, the Dark Mages perished in rebellions so violent none of them survived.
The Night Creatures wanted out. The last Dark Mage alive created the Rift, so none did. The Rift is a barrier so big between our worlds some say it reaches down into the pits of the Underworld. The Twilight Realm, a place inhabited by fae creatures, was caught in between and still is locked in the shade.
Maybe because Nature seeks balance, once the Dark Mages disappeared, the long line of Light Mages did so. Slowly, with fewer kids being born with the ability to control light until they stopped. Being the only ones able to destroy the Cursed Realm and because of their rarity, the Light Mages born in the last centuries were treated… differently.
He was just a Light Mage, but he was called the Chosen One for being the only one born in so long. The man who would obliterate the Cursed Realm and its cursed creatures. Me included.
Now, he’s gone, and I certainly will not miss him. I have to find Cassandra. She’s stronger than I could expect, dealing with the situation. She doesn’t feel guilt for the accident, and I like that. The whole pretending to feel guilty when you did nothing wrong bores me to death. Or undeath.
Cassandra needs me, and I desperately need her too. She made my heart beat with a brush of her arm. I don’t have an imagination rich enough to envision what’s going to happen when I claim her because I am going to do that. The way her dark eyes flare up when our gazes meet is merely a glimpse of what’s coming to pass.
Focus, Donatello. Not the time to picture her curvy body against mine. The blood in my veins pumps to my cock, tightening the space in my pants. I press my eyes shut to expel the image of her from my mind for a second, then exit Twitter back to my home screen. Two clicks after, I’m on the phone app.
“Donatello,” a gravelly voice greets from the other side, lazy with what I guess is sleep. “Weird time of the day for a call.”
Vampire time zones. “Adrian. Do you remember the favor you owe me?” I ask out of the bat. No time for dawdling. “I need it back.”
He chuckles. “I should have guessed something like that was coming. No one calls in this unholy hour just to ask if I’m fine.”
“It’s a tough world.”
“What do you need, Donatello?”
“Are you still a good tracker?” I put the call on speaker and send him Cassandra’s name and a picture I get from the web. It’s a good one, taken on a casino. She’s in a nice, skin-tight dress that makes me drool. “I need this woman’s address. As in right now.”
He tuts for a moment. I bet reading the message. “Oh, this girly. I’ve seen her. Killed the Light Mage.” He snorts. “Someone eventually would, eh? It’s no one’s interest to destroy the Cursed Realm.”
“Can you find her in up to five minutes?”
“Sure. Do I have your word we’re even?”
Vampires live too long for money to be the only currency. Favors are where the real worth is. You don’t want to be known as the person who breaks his word in a society that lives forever.
“You have my word.”
He tuts again. “Isn’t it easier to wait for the cops to get her and then steal her away? Just saying.”
“Not asking for your opinion,” I finish and hit end call. As if I’m allowing the humans to touch a hair on her head. They have more info on her than me, but that is soon changing. I lower my eyes to the time. It’s not even eleven. The sun will glare from the top, burning everything in its way, including my retinas, if it has a chance.
A low point of being undead. The sun might kill us. It’s not instantaneous, but stand in a fire for long enough, and you become toast.
Five of the longest minutes of my existence. I rush through the hallway and into the elevator, down to the underground parking lot, and into my dark-tinted car. I sit behind the wheel and wait. I wait for his message with the address because the moment it gets here, I’m out.
My phone buzzes, adrenaline spikes. I hit the messaging app, searching. The message I just received is not what I expected. Bitterness covers my tongue. Of all the people in the world, I wasn’t expecting to hear fromhimthis early in the day.
Donatello, are you still in Myrtle Creek? I need you to quit frolicking and bring me the Light Mage’s assassin. If you’re up for the job, let me know, and I’ll send you her address.
My brows drop low over my nose. Why does he want her? What is his interest? My maker’s always been the kind of man with so many dubious, obscure passions you stop asking about it. Several possibilities cross my mind, none of them good. I would be a fool to expect anything good from him. Whatever he wants Cassandra for, it isn’t good. It would be faster to accept the job so he could give me the address, but he would also cling like ivy, expecting updates. So I don’t.
I drop the phone on my lap and curl my fingers around the wheel, tightening my hold. My jaw clenches, and I watch my tendons jumping out of my hand. What is going on? Why is my gut telling me this is much bigger than I expect? Over four hundred years waiting for the chance to feel my heart beating again, and once it does, there’s this mess.