My long blonde hair is still tied swiftly back, minus a few strands that came loose during the nap in my death bed. My eyes and features seem brighter beneath the blinding white lights of the vanity.
As does the small red marking that has appeared just an inch below my ear. A heart.
It’s literally a fucking heart.
Intricate lines slide through the middle of the shape, and they drip down in different lengths and columns in a modernly artistic way.
It’s… goddamn it, it’s cute.
Fucking adorable even!
I hate it.
I close my eyes slowly and wonder what it truly means to be a vampire’s mate. Prey said mates can share powers, but I don’t feel particularly powerful.
There’s a tingling like the numbing sensation of static through my arms and down my fingertips.
“Fuck!” I hiss as I try to shake off the weird feeling crawling up my shoulders.
I fling open the black cabinet on the wall and my hands clatter against the bottles of perfume and makeup kept in there. When I find what I’m looking for, I slam the cabinet closed and start shaking out the contents of the pale bottle.
The thick liquid slips over my fingertips and I pat it fervently over the offensive spot on my neck.
Full coverage in a house of flawless immortal vampires. I suppose some insecurities really do follow us all the way to the grave.
The thin red lines of the mating mark begin to hide away like a blemish that I wish would fade over time.But I know better.
I just don’t have time to dwell on giving my eternal heart and soul to some glitterless fuckboy.
I step away from the reminder of what lies beneath a thin layer of makeup and start to explore further down the hall. The deep red carpet is soft beneath my shoes and I sink just slightly as I walk. I stumble, the annoying point of my shoe kicking into the back of the other, and I barely right myself on the frame of a door.
It cracks open. Inside, an old man has his back to me.
Single strands of white hair hang from his head, his skin there sags in the shape of his skull, protruding in great ridges of detail.
The hair on my arms lifts with a shudder shaking my frame.
“Nicco! Nicco, fetch my glasses,” the man croaks.
He turns, and his features are a wash of pale coloring and deep purple bruising across his face. His eyes are so sunken in, I couldn’t guess the color if I were gazing into them up close. Long bony fingers curl out over a page he lifts to the lamplight on his ornate wooden desk.
I recognize Pavel by the unsettling memory of his photo.
Apparently it’s true: eternal life does not equal eternal beauty.
Footsteps sound slowly and another elderly man, but not quite a crypt-keeper like Pavel hobbles over to the front of the desk. I pull back just slightly to hide behind the door as Pavel puts on a large metal pair of glasses.
“She’s supposed to return today,” Pavel mutters, and my pulse nearly stops dead as I realize he’s talking about me.
“Yes, master. Ms. Vega and Mr. Royale arrived earlier this evening.” Nicco adjusts his own little black glasses, and the two men stare at one another for a long moment.
“Good. She keeps Royale’s head on straight when she’s home. Now, where’s my blood? Get me my drink before I retire for the day.”
I slip away from the two elderly vampires and nearly collide right into a third.
“Ah, Six,” Aston’s smirk crawls over his face as he looks down on me like I’m his dinner.
“Cardence,” I arch an eyebrow at the man I should have just killed already.
“Come again?” he says it so quietly it sends a shiver through my body.
“What?” I narrow my eyes on him.
“Say. It. Again.”
My jaw grinds.
“Say what again?”
His smile lifts even more, until two dimples kiss his cheeks.
“My name. Say my name again, Six.”
A red hot blush flashes over my face and I immediately turn to look away.
But I can’t appear weak.
It’s bad enough that I’m appearing less than supernaturally flawless in front of this creep.
Why are all the men in this church such sin-filled assholes? You would think the whole building would spontaneously combust from the sheer blasphemy.
I exhale slowly and pretend to crack my neck this way and that before looking back at the still sneering vampire.
“Listen, Cardence, you don’t scare me.” the thought of him raping and turning my sister flashes before my eyes and I crack my neck once more to stop myself from lashing out right here and now at a man who could easily rip me limb from limb if he wanted. “You’re nothing more than a narcissistic coward who gets off on tormenting women.”
His eyes flicker with a hint of red bleeding into the dark embers of green. His fingers clutch into my arms and he rushes me so fast I see stars when my head bangs against the wall.
“And you’re an overly emotional wet dream, Six.” He’s breathing so hard that I can taste his excitement with every word he says. “But you’re not Kyra Vega. So… that begs the question: who are you?”
His head tilts curiously as he gazes down on me with manic excitement.
My heart is pounding so hard I swear I might die of a panic attack before he ever gets the chance to put me out of my misery. He’s different from the others. He doesn’t look like he wants to eat me alive. He looks like he wants to smother me. He’s… desperately clingy.
“What are you?”
“Who are you?”
I roll my eyes at him and it just makes him smile harder.
Could this weird, pestering, pink-haired punk really have raped and turned my sister?
“I’ll answer your questions. Because you’re a stranger here, and I just know you’re filled to the brim with questions. So let me be your guide! And in return, you’ll tell me who you are
