Chapter Twenty-one
“Do you require another drink, Miss De Novo?”
She glanced at the small servant who stood next to her chair before staring back at the ocean that surrounded her.
“No, thanks.”
“You must ring the kitchen if there is anything you need. Or let your guard know.” Beatrice glanced at the sturdy Greek who stood near the entrance to her room. As far as she could tell, he didn’t speak a word of English. She wasn’t sure he spoke at all.
But he watched.
He watched every move she made during the day, unless she ducked into the small bathroom in the chamber where she had been kept for the past week.
“Sure. Thanks. I’ll let him know.” She looked back at the ocean, letting her thoughts drift in and out with the crashing surf.
The servant crept away, following the small trail that connected all the exterior rooms of Lorenzo’s strange house. She watched him duck into what she thought was the kitchen area of the vampire’s house, which had become her prison.
It was sprawling, built into the half-moon bay of what she had been told was Lorenzo’s own island. Cliffs speared up from the surface of the water and the house was nestled in the crook above the rocky beach.
She knew there were other rooms, built back into the cliffs where the sun could not reach. All the exterior rooms faced the water and opened to the ocean with large doors not unlike a garage. She wasn’t locked in, per se. But unless she wanted to jump fifty feet into the vast expanse of the Aegean, there wasn’t anywhere she could go.
When she had woken after being dragged from Giovanni’s house, she immediately heard the sound of large engines droning. She thought she was in the belly of a cargo plane of some sort, though it was outfitted luxuriously with plush seats, tables and beds.
She saw Lorenzo, lounging in a pair of white slacks and shirt that only emphasized his inhuman paleness.
“Where are we?”
He looked up with an indulgent smile.
“You’re awake! On my plane, of course. Headed to what will be your home for some time. Do you want any refreshment?” She glanced at his own crystal glass, filled with a thick red liquid she assumed was human blood. Lorenzo noticed her looking.
“I’m not a heathen like Giovanni. I drink human, of course, but I don’t like drinking from the tap.” He shuddered. “So disgustingly intimate, in my opinion. I only like getting that close to someone when I’m fucking them or killing them.”
He winked at her when she blanched. “No need to worry about that, my dear. I want you fresh and unharmed when your father comes begging for you.”
“Where are we going?”
Lorenzo sighed with a smile. “Somewhere far more temperate than Houston. I don’t know how you stand the weather in that horrid city.” He shivered. “Absolutely horrendous. We’re going to a little private island in the Aegean, my dear girl. A special place. Only a very few people know about it, so you should feel privileged.”
“Be still my heart,” she said dryly.
Lorenzo laughed, his sharp fangs falling down in his delight. “Oh, there you are, Miss De Novo, I knew I would like you once I got you away from my father. He’s so stifling, isn’t he? Terribly boring vampire. And I was sure you had that quick wit that so delighted me with Stephen.
“Even when I was torturing him,” a wistful expression crossed Lorenzo’s angelic face, “he would come up with the most inventive barbs. What a treat he was.”
A sick feeling churned in Beatrice’s stomach, and she thought she might throw up again, but she forced herself to take a deep breath and change the subject.
“How are you flying? I mean, doesn’t your wonky energy mess up the plane and stuff?”
He chuckled. “What an excellent question. Yes, it would if the cargo compartment had not been especially designed for me. All sorts of wonderful, insulating materials they’ve come up with in the last few decades.”
“Yeah? Well, God bless chemistry, I guess.”
He chuckled, but continued paging through the magazine he’d been perusing. It appeared to be something about boats, but she couldn’t read the language on the front cover; she thought it might be Greek.
“Just consider this trip a vacation, my dear. After all,” an evil grin spread across his face, “you’ll have an ocean view room.”
If she hadn’t been a prisoner, it would have been beautiful.
She had no privacy except the small washroom that contained a toilet, a sink with no mirror, and a shower with no curtain. She could not lock the door, and lived in fear of someone walking into the bathroom if she lingered too long. The room had come stocked with clothing; when she arrived, two silent women undressed her and threw her clothes into a garbage bag, leaving her naked and crying on the floor of her room. She crawled to the bed, intending to cover herself with a sheet until one of them came back and wordlessly opened the small chest of drawers was filled with pure white clothes.
There were white pants and white shirts. Looking in the top drawer even netted her a wealth of white bras and panties, all in her size. There were bathing suits and sundresses, all in white, all without any other identifying feature on them. She hastily dressed herself and crawled into the corner of her room for the next two days, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Beatrice had been captive a week and fallen into a monotonous rhythm. She woke. She took a quick shower and dressed herself in the white clothes, dumping the towel and dirty linens in a basket by the ocean door where another silent servant would carry them away at some point in the morning. No one ever talked to her. Her guard would open the door and she would sit in one of the chaises that faced the ocean, waiting for something to happen.
Nothing ever did.
When darkness fell, she could hear scurrying movements farther along the cliff to her left, but she never made any attempt to investigate the sick laughter or sounds of revelry that drifted to her room. Darkness meant vampires, and Beatrice may not have liked her human guard, but at least she didn’t think tall, dark and silent was going to rip her throat out if he got hungry.
Her door wasn’t shut until well after dark, so she often sat staring at the moon as it reflected off the dark water below her.
One night, about a week and a half after she’d been taken, she heard footsteps approaching. She tensed, but refused to run back to the corner, knowing that anything that came after her would just consider that an easier and more private meal.
To her surprise, it was Lorenzo who peeked his head around the corner.
“Hello, my dear. How are you enjoying your stay?”
Eying him warily, she took a moment to answer. Her own voice sounded strange to her ears.
“Well, I have no privacy, no human contact, and nothing to read or listen to other than the ocean. But at least your prison decorating skills are top notch, Lorenzo.”
He walked over to her and stretched out on another chaise, dressed from head to toe in loose white linen that made his inhuman skin glow in the moonlight. “You like it? I’m so glad my home meets your approval.”
“Oh, yeah, I mean, it’s just so…white. And
