This was out of my league.
But it was either see Maxwell or die.
I forced myself to smile. “I am here—”
“You are to leave,” the servant said coldly. “You haven’t been invited.”
“Oh, but if you ask—”
“What have we here?” The woman from before glided over, putting her hand above the servant’s shoulder, making him step back without her having to touch him. She eyed me again, the disdain gone, and I realized with a start that she was a vampire.
She eyed me up and down and turned back to the servant.
“Let her in,” she demanded the human servant.
The servant bowed to her and opened the door wider.
As soon as I crossed the threshold, the woman seized my arm. Her fingers were like claws, and she dragged me to the wall. Her nail traced along my jawline and came down to my throat.
“You will make a tasty—”
“You will unhand her.”
His voice forced all air out of my lungs, but I didn’t allow myself to look at him. Instead, I watched the female vampire straighten. Her face… did it pale? I couldn’t quite tell, but without a word, she unhanded me. With a sniff, she stormed past Maxwell.
Only now did I feel his gaze on me, but I ignored him. My stampeding heart had to alert him to the effect he had on me, but I drank in the scene. A ball was going on. The palace opened to a huge ballroom that seemed to encompass the entire first floor. A grand marble staircase was opposite the door, the railing on either side gilded, and Maxwell stood on the bottom step.
All around me were vampires, vampires, and more vampires. Their clothes, their hair, their grace… everything about them made me feel so utterly out of place, but it also made me nervous, so very nervous, and even afraid.
Could they smell the blood on my hands?
Maybe I should turn around and leave and take my chances.
But then Maxwell held out his hand, and my feet moved as if under their own accord. I placed my hand in his, thinking he might sweep me into his arms and dance with me, but no. I never had been able to figure out Maxwell before, and I still couldn’t.
Neither of us said a word as he led me up the stairwell. Silver doors were opposite the stairs on the second floor, but he ignored them, heading down the hallway to the left and opening bronze doors.
At his nod, I entered the room. A small tea room. Pink walls—pink! A small circular table almost like a pedestal with a white tablecloth. Twin golden chairs. Maxwell really loved gold, it seemed. Two abstract pieces of art hung on the walls. Two windows covered in silk curtains—white.
“Won’t you sit?” Maxwell asked, his tone polite, and I winced, hating that his voice sounded so aloof.
“Do you remember me, Maxwell?” I boldly asked instead.
He tilted his head to the side. “Do you think I would have brought you here if I had not?”
Embarrassment seized me, but I lifted my chin, refusing to allow him to know that I felt unsettled, and I finally allowed myself to get a good look at him.
He hadn’t aged a day, still as handsome, as sexy, as sensual with every movement, even the slight rise of his chest. His dark hair was brushed back, and his suit fit him like a glove. His shirt was the barest shade of blue, which only made his dark eyes seem that much darker. The top few buttons were undone, giving him so much sex appeal that I thought I would combust. My gaze fell to his hands. As large as ever. To my surprise, he didn’t have cufflinks, not ouroboros cufflinks or any at all.
Ouroboros Society. I had assumed he was a member. They were vampires who wanted humans to reach their full potential. Those vampires chose to become patrons of those humans they wished to have as Chosen ones. Vampires were monsters, were predators, and predators needed their prey. Good help from the most talented of humans was lucrative, useful, and in high demand. After all, the better humans did, the better vampires did. Or at least, that was what I had learned over the years.
If he wasn't a member… maybe he wouldn't help me. I needed him now more than ever, but he hadn't given me what I needed. Well, not enough. The house, yes, my sister's nightmares, but when I had been about to ask for my parents to have better, higher-paying jobs that required fewer hours and days worked, he'd insisted I ask for me.
And I had.
And he had refused me, ignored me, abandoned me.
Now, I was back to ask him for what I needed, and I had no reason to think he would help me now.
Without a word, refusing to show any sign of my inner turmoil, I took the seat nearest me.
Maxwell did not sit, though he walked around the table to face me. His fingers drummed on the tablecloth.
“You mean to stay,” he said rather than asked.
“I have to talk to you.”
“I see.”
My mouth fell open, and I sucked in a breath. Telling him what happened… the words would not come, and I stared at the hands in my lap. The blood wasn’t visible. I had scrubbed my hands nearly to the point of being raw, but I could still feel the slippery substance on my skin even if I couldn’t see it anymore.
I was stained. Death had touched me, but I instead had been the one to inflict that fatal sentence on another.
And if he weren’t to help me when I needed him to…
But who was I to ask him anything? He had already saved my family, had saved me. Once I had given my parents enough money to move into a decent house with Amber, I sought out a man who knew mold like no other,
