My head is spinning. Sevan certainly understands complicated family tress. But Logan can’t handle all of this.
Grandfather.
Rath knew my maternal grandfather.
Who is apparently dead.
I shake my head, trying to clear the confusion from my brain.
“What now?” I ask. “Eventually I will return with Cyrus to Roter Himmel, but not yet. You say meeting my mother is my choice, but what about you? Will you return to the House of Conrath?”
Rath doesn’t have words immediately. He studies me, and I know the complex emotions raging through him. They’re the same as what is going on inside myself.
“These next few weeks will be tumultuous ones for you, Logan,” he says. “I may be loyal to the House of Conrath, and will be until the end of my days, but Logan, sixteen years of hiding a difficult and complicated fate from you doesn’t go away because you are upset with me. If you need my help, you have it.”
I don’t see it coming. But suddenly my throat is tight and emotion bites the back of my eyes. I cross my arms over my chest and have to look away.
I don’t know what to say. My pride and bitterness want to send him away, to never see his deceiving face again.
But another part of me knows the value of devotion and loyalty.
I truly don’t know what to say.
“We should talk,” Larkin says, saving me in the moment of awkwardness.
I stand and head toward my bedroom, grateful. Larkin follows me without a word. I meet Rath’s eyes for just a second as I close the bedroom door behind me.
“Are you alright, my queen?” Larkin asks from behind me.
I turn, looking over at him. “Can you…can you please just call me Logan for now?”
He gives a little nod. “Of course, Logan.”
I walk to the bed, trailing my fingers over the soft fabric. I feel a little lost, momentarily. “No,” I answer the question he posed a few moments ago. “I’m not alright. I feel…” I shake my head. Because I don’t know how to answer that question. “I feel like I’m lost in the darkest forest on Immergrun Mountain. Or maybe tossed into Spiegel Lake. I can’t tell which way is up, or where home is.”
“Do not be too hard on yourself,” Larkin says. He watches me from beside the door, his eyes catching every one of my movements. “You’ve woken up with years of a new life seven times. It is understandable if you need a few days to piece yourself together.”
“Eight,” I say once more, this time to a different man.
My eyes rise, studying the wall as if it can hold the answers. Find the pieces to that eighth life that I know exists.
“Eight,” Larkin says, sounding slightly breathless. “You mean there has been a life between this one as Logan, and La’ei? You returned at some point in the past 286 years?”
I look back at him. My gaze is misty when I nod my head. “I can’t remember it yet, but I know it’s there. Something…something happened. I just can’t remember yet.”
He takes one step forward, his eyes fixed on me. “If you wished to discuss the complexities of your life, you would have called someone, perhaps anyone else,” he says knowingly. “Not me. Tell me, Logan. Why is it that you had a need to call me?”
I’m relieved. He changes the subject to something I can deal with. Something that may be deadly, but is simple. Something I know how to deal with, because I’ve been doing it on and off for thousands of years.
“Five days ago, there was an attempt on Cyrus’ life,” I say, standing straight and facing Larkin. “It was planned, laid out. They weren’t particularly smart about it, Cyrus easily killed them. But there was something about it that bothers me.”
Larkin’s eyes narrow. “What is that?”
“It was a feeble attempt,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “But the way they did it. It rattled Cyrus. For a day or two before they actually attacked, Cyrus was worried. I got the feeling they’d possibly followed him from Roter Himmel. They knew he was there with no security. Cyrus felt threatened.”
“You think it was more about getting into the King’s head than the actual attack?” Larkin clarifies.
I nod. “I’ve rarely seen him shaken. I had to remind him of what he was capable of. Perhaps it was his worry over me, in my human state. But I feel like this was different from other attacks. It’s like they knew how Cyrus would react.”
I can see the wheels turning in Larkin’s head.
There’s a reason I called Larkin. This is what he does. This is what he excels at.
“I want you to investigate this,” I say. “The attacker was killed. Mina buried his body on the property. But these things are rarely orchestrated by a single individual. I want you to see if there is anything else to worry about.”
Larkin’s fingers roll into fists and he stands a little taller. “It would be my pleasure,” he says. Even his voice sounds deeper.
“It happened in Colorado,” I say. “Half a day’s drive from here.” I turn and find a pad of paper and a pen on the nightstand. I write the address of Cyrus’ house in Greendale down and hand it over to him. “Do whatever you have to do to figure out who did this.”
He takes the paper, and for just a moment, embers ignite in his eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes to find out who tried to kill your husband, Logan.”
I swallow at the title, but nod.
With one last bow, Larkin turns and leaves the room to go hunt down who did this.
I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the door once he is gone.
In my very, very long existence, there has always been a need for individuals who are skilled in collecting intelligence. For those who can take care of problems silently.
Over the years, Cyrus has had many spies with incredible skill. Ubaldo was his first. Then came Wolfhard. And last I remember there was Raheem, more skilled than any others before him.
I wonder if he’s still in Cyrus’ service. It’s been so long, who knows.
But all this time, at least since my third life, since I lived a life as Helda, Larkin has been the one I could count on. The one with the deadliest hands, the sharpest fangs, and the most silent feet.
There isn’t a cell in me that doubts he can solve this mystery.
I stare at the door Larkin walked out of, and suddenly I feel depleted.
This is it. Everything I had planned after telling Cyrus I wouldn’t be returning with him to Roter Himmel is finished.
Call Larkin.
Free Rath.
Start the investigation.
Now what?
I flop back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I’m exhausted just thinking of the possibilities of where I could go from here.
So for right now, I’m just grateful for this bed, and this room, granting me a safe, private place to rest.
Chapter 5
My booted feet sent sounds echoing against the stone walls of the castle. With my ladies, we headed from the lower chambers to the kitchen, but the sound of voices, loud, angry, some terrified, stopped me on my route and changed my trajectory.
I turned, walking down the passage and into one of the many great halls.
There, kneeling in the middle of the room, their hands bound behind their backs, were two men. Their clothing was torn, saturated with blood. Their faces, bruised. Cuts marred their skin.
I knew they were human the moment I stepped foot inside.
Before them stood Cyrus. Other guards surrounded him.
“What is going on?” I demanded, my eyes locked on my husband’s.
“Wolfhard found who broke into the storehouse a few days ago,” Cyrus said, as he looked back at the humans. “These two were hiding in the tower of the abandoned church. Apparently, they have been watching us for over a week.”
I looked back at the men. When they met my gaze, their eyes widened with terror. They physically recoiled from me, as much as they could considering they were bound.
I understood without anyone havin
g to explain.
These two were not part of the human community that lived here in Roter Himmel.
Outside of our safe haven, humans knew nothing of our kind.
“I’m sure they can be reasoned with,” I said, as I stepped forward, toward them. “I’m sure they understand the gravity of what this place is. Surely they can keep a secret.”
Both of them nodded their heads frantically, a few tears leaking down one of their faces.
But Cyrus’ expression hardened. I recognized that familiar set to his lips, his jaw.
“We let them walk and who knows the price they could obtain for information,” he said. I felt it growing—the darkness that existed in the man I had loved for so long. It gathered like a physical thing, and all any of us could do was brace ourselves for it.
“Please,” one of the men begged. “I only stumbled upon your town while traveling through the pass. I swear on both our lives, we won’t breathe a word.”
Cyrus’ face was stone cold. “I’m afraid I cannot allow that. I value secrecy above all else.”
In a blur of a movement, he crossed to them. Gripping them each by the scalp, he yanked in one clean movement, relieving them of their heads.
Blood sprayed, a warm splash of it flew across my right hand.
Cyrus took a step forward, dropping their heads to the stone floor with a wet thud.
“There are other ways,” I said as he walked past me. He paused, listening. “Not everything has to end in death.”
I felt him lean in close, and then his lips just lightly brushed over my cheek. “I will do whatever it takes to protect our life, my love. Whatever it takes.”
I swallowed as he walked away, my face and hands going numb.
* * *
Someone brings me food. I eat.
Hector sends up a woman for me to feed from, and I drink.
In my past lives I’ve never gotten control very quickly. But I manage to let go of her before I kill or turn her.
A messenger comes to tell me that if I need anything, all I have to do is ask the House of Valdez and they will do it.
A few hours after dinner, someone drops by a note. It says that Cyrus has arrived in Roter Himmel and it was uneventful. It requests that I send word to let him know I am all right.
Glancing over at my phone on the nightstand, my heart feels pulled in two.
One side is annoyed, angry that Cyrus isn’t exactly giving me the space I asked for. Another is so grateful that he thought to let me know he’s safe, and ask if I am, as well.
I remember the look in his eyes just before we parted ways.
And my chest cracks.
I grab my phone.
I’m fine. I’m at the House of Valdez. Thank you for letting me know you’re safe.
I send the text to Cyrus.
Instantly, it says it’s been read.
A tiny smile forms on my lips.
There’s a quiet humming sound suddenly, and the coverings on the window begin retracting, disappearing into the wall. My view of the city slowly opens up.
I walk to it, looking out over the dazzling lights of Las Vegas at night.
I can see everything from up here. Up and down The Strip. There are thousands of people going from place to place. There’s an electric excitement that promises a night of sinful possibilities.
I go to the closet and dig through my bag, grateful that the House of Valdez didn’t go through my things and hang them up for me. I drag out a dress, bright red and form fitting. Stripping out of my clothes, I change into it. I curl my hair and do dark, smoky makeup. Finally, I strap on some black heels.
Quietly, I open the bedroom door and peek out.
Rath lies on the couch, one arm over his eyes. He snores softly.
Without making a sound, I cross the space to the entry door. I place my hand on the pad, and silently, it slides open and I slip out.
I’m grateful there’s not another soul around as I walk down the hall toward the elevator. I press the button and just five seconds later, the doors slide open and I slip inside.
Alone, I plummet through the casino and the doors open on the ground floor.
If I thought the smell was bad before, it’s nothing compared to it now. There are ten times more bodies around, and I realize just how popular The MetroCosmo must be. It’s packed. The energy is crazy. The volume is nearly overwhelming. The smell of cigarettes and alcohol nearly knocks me on my ass.
Looking around, searching for familiar faces, and smelling the area for other Born, I work my way through the crowd toward the front doors. I smell someone across the casino, but far enough away to not be spotted.
Without being caught, I slip through the main doors and work my way to the crowded sidewalk. Down a block I quickly walk, making sure to get lost in the crowd and not be spotted.
And finally, I stop. I look around.
I revel in the anonymity.
It won’t be long. Cyrus was right. It won’t be long until word of my return spreads throughout the world. The House of Valdez might have already told others. It could be slipping down the chain as I stand here.
So I appreciate it, here in this moment that I get to stand here alone. And no one around knows who I am.
No one bows.
No one jumps to fulfill my simplest wishes.
No one looks at me with fear because they know what my husband is capable of.
He isn’t your husband, half of me shouts as I set off down the sidewalk. He’s never even told you he loved you. There’s no ring on your finger. You’ve never even kissed the man.
Not my husband, I think to myself as I cross the street and disappear into the crowd.
I duck into a casino Amelia and I visited when we came here last summer. We weren’t even old enough to sit at the tables and play. But we did shop our hearts out. At least as much as our tiny budgets allowed.
I hold my head high and make my way to a table.
I won’t claim Cyrus as my husband just yet, but that money is just as much mine as it is his.
Before long there’s a good gathering of people at the table. Others begin to gather to watch as the seven of us play. One by one, I take their money, winning three games in a row.
I’m kind of shocked, myself.
I’ve always had the world’s worst luck. I lose money. I don’t get lucky winning. So the fact that I’m here, rocking this hand and another, it has nothing to do with me as Logan Pierce, and everything to do with Sevan.
Apparently Sevan is good at gambling.
“I think three is my lucky number,” I say as I collect my winnings and turn to leave. The other players and the crowd groan audibly. “Learn this lesson: quit while you’re ahead.”
I smile as I walk away and go to collect the cash.
I move from one casino to the next, in all stopping three times to play, in all winning nine games. The money I make is more than I earned in the last year and a half of my life.
Still nothing, in the scale of Sevan’s life. But it’s major in the scope of being Logan.
The night stretches late, but the energy doesn’t fade. The crowds are still thick. The scents of alcohol and drugs and sex grow thicker.
It starts as a little tickle in the back of my throat. I raise my hands to it as I walk down the sidewalk. I swallow once. The heat ignites.
I swallow again. But the temperature rises.
I look around. Thousands of people surround me.
Just one.
I just need one body.
A man walks by himself, stumbling slightly. He looks up, his eyes meeting mine and he looks sheepish, slightly embarrassed at his near fall. But I see the hunger that lights in them. He looks me up and down.
I smile at him. I step to the side, eyeing him as I work my way to a dark alcove.
It’s not even hard. I lure him over without a single word.
“And how are you, this very spectacular evening?” he says, cocky and seductive. He steps forward, hi
s hands instantly going to my hips.
One second of the presumptuous pig is all I can take. I smile as I reach forward, lacing my fingers behind his head. I guide him to me, and before he can think this is leading anywhere but to him dropping his pants around his ankles, I sink my fangs into his neck.
I pull. One deep suck.
Another.
Four.
Five draws.
On six, I release him, a satisfied sigh rushing over my lips as I lick his blood from them. As soon as I let him go, he collapses to the ground.
He gives a little groan, rolling his head from one side to the other, as if trying to figure out why his neck hurts.
I wipe at my mouth one last time. I glance back at him over my shoulder before walking away, leaving him in the dark.
He’ll be fine. He was drunk enough before he ran into me that he won’t remember a thing.
I walk another block, and head into another casino. I just wander this time. No destination in mind. Just traveling among the people.
After ascending a grand flight of stairs, a flashing sign points the way to a club. I follow it, and push open the doors to find loud, thumping music.
Maybe it’s the confidence I’m portraying tonight, maybe they can sense just how old my soul really is, but not a person has asked for I.D. all night. I walk right in without anyone even giving a questioning glance my way.
Through the crowd of dancing bodies I make my way. Past intimate couples in booths. Beyond the women and men dressed in little to nothing, serving drinks. At the far side of the club, I find an empty table, and I sit.
Not five seconds later, a woman wearing only a leather bra and a thong comes to take my order.
I may be over two thousand years old in one way, but the other part of me is only twenty, and honestly, alcohol has never been that appealing.
I order a Coke with lime. Not two minutes later she returns with my drink.
“Either you’re one of the few law-abiding underage people in this city, or you’re smarter than the rest of us and know alcohol almost never leads to anything good.”
I look up and see a man standing at a table just a few feet from me. He’s alone. He holds a glass in his hand, though I’d guess he hasn’t taken more than a sip from it.