With a deep inhale, I closed my eyes. Yep, my shields were fully engaged—which made me wonder if unconscious shielding was normal. Could my unconscious mind be defending me without my conscious mind knowing it? Yes, I was stalling. I made a mental note to ask Tymon about it later before I exhaled and slowly lowered my shields.
Like a wave, the memories flooded in—Victoria’s attack, my feelings of helplessness, screaming for Zack to save me. With a loud gasp, I bolted upright and reached for my neck. Tears sprang to my eyes as the excruciating pain of her bite ghosted through me. I searched for the marks, but all I could feel was smooth skin. This couldn’t be. She ripped out my throat. I felt her fangs as they tore through my neck, felt the warm blood as it gushed from my body and pooled beneath me. Did I imagine it? Had it been an illusion? If so, it was a damn good one.
Scooching sideways on the bed, I felt my way over to a lamp. With a flip of a switch, the room came to light. Once my breathing calmed, I took in my surroundings: the elegant bed, the grasscloth wallpaper, plush white carpet, rattan-style furniture, and steel-plated windows. That explained the darkness.
A sigh of relief shot from my lips as I flopped back onto the cushy mattress. I was alive. I remembered Zack telling me to hold on; then I must have blacked out because the next thing I remembered was the two of them fighting. It was an ugly, vicious fight—a gruesomely choreographed dance. A dance between lovers. Even though the thought made me sick, I knew it was true. Victoria’s words now made sense. I can smell him on you. I’m going to erase him from your body, and then I’m going to drain you dry. They also stung. I wasn’t sure I wanted Zack, but I didn’t want him to want her.
As my mind raced through last night’s events, I kept coming back to the same thing; Victoria tried to kill me, and Zack saved me. I thought back to our encounter in the tunnel, how I’d stroked his junk and begged him to finish me off. I laughed. God, Diana, you are such an idiot.
With a flip of the covers, I scooted from the bed. As expected, the bathroom was beyond extravagant with its fancy wallpaper, soaker tub, and massive shower. On the way past the vanity, I made sure to check my neck in the mirror. Not only were Victoria’s marks missing but so were Zack’s. Why this bothered me, I couldn’t say. Well, I could, but I wouldn’t. After all, I was an expert at denial. I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. Damn, for a dead woman, I sure looked good. My skin was all glowy—as if I’d been to a spa and had a hydrating facial. Too bad my hair was a mess. Eww, is that blood? There went my illusion theory.
After taking advantage of the shower, I braided my hair into a long ponytail and went in search of clothes. All I could find was a robe. Great.
The moment I stepped from the room, I knew I wasn’t in the compound. My stomach grumbled at the smell of bacon, and I followed the scent down a winding staircase, across an expansive living room, and into a homey-looking kitchen. A woman stood behind the stove. She was older, probably in her sixties, with gray hair and slightly wrinkled skin. She was also human.
“Come in, come in!” The woman called out. “I was beginning to worry. I’m Selma, Mr. Wylde’s housekeeper.” She placed a glass on the island. “Here, have some juice. It’s fresh-squeezed.”
“Thanks.” I took a seat at the island as she moved back to the stove.
“Would you like a cup of coffee and some breakfast?” Her open smile put me at ease.
“Would I ever. I feel like I could eat a horse. I’m Diana, by the way.”
She laughed. “I know, dear. I helped to get you settled last night. A healthy appetite is good. It means you’re healing. Mr. Wylde was so worried. He sat with you until well after dawn.” From her disapproving tone, I took it that was a bad thing.
“Mr. Wylde’s here?”
“Yes, he’s resting.”
I scanned the spacious kitchen, wishing I could see out the shuttered windows. “Umm, where exactly are we?”
Selma flipped off the stove and grabbed a plate from the cabinet. “This is Mr. Wylde’s home. Would you like bacon?”
“Yes, please. His home at the compound?” I could have sworn this wasn’t the compound. At least, not the part of the compound I’d experienced.
“No, this is his personal residence.”
As a plate filled with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon slid in front of me, I made a mental note to ask Zack about it later. My mental notes were starting to stack up.
Mr. Wylde asked that I give you this when you awakened.” She handed me a manila envelope.
After scarfing down the lumberjack-sized meal, I was ready to burst. I was also ready to leave.
“Thank you, Selma, that was amazing. Now, if you’d be so kind as to grab my clothes for me, I’ll call a cab and be out of your hair.” I planned to open the envelope once I got home, but curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to take a quick peek.
“Oh, Mr. Wylde was hoping you would stay. There are swimsuits in the pool cabana if you’d like to take a swim. The pool is heated.”
On the top was a handwritten note. It said, Forgive me. Please stay. Under the note was a dossier on Jessie Patrick. Sneaky vampire.
“Do you, by chance, have a laptop I can borrow?”
She smiled. “Right this way.” I followed her into what I assumed was Zack’s office. Like the rest of the
