Shit.
I keep brainstorming as I wander upstairs. The lights are off on this side of the church, so it’s getting darker as I walk, so dark I can’t see where I’m going. But I suppose that doesn’t matter much to supernaturals or nocturnal creatures who thrive in the night. My palm hovers over the railing to guide me up the last few steps and when I reach the soft carpet of the hall, my chest collides into something hard.
Something ominous and looming, and just close enough to make me stumble back… onto nothing.
My heels clatter over the lower step, but my weight pulls me back further. Gravity tugs right through my chest and the air in my lungs abandon me as I go down.
But then a strong arm wraps around my waist. I’m flung up in an instant, and my hands cling tightly to the soft cotton shirt I find myself pressing against.
Thrilled terror slams through me from the possibility of nearly dying, not by the fangs of a vampire, but my own mortal clumsiness.
Then… who’s holding me right now?
I’m living in a house with an unknown killer, and right now I could be holding him close like some kind of savior.
I shove swiftly out of his arms and stumble away until my back hits the wall.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Aston whispers.
“You mean kill me? You almost killed me!”
A breathy laugh rumbles over his lips. “Well, you are a vampire. A fall like that would hardly kill you… Right?” He asks me in a taunting way.
Like I might just slip up and confess all my secrets at his feet.
“If you’re done being a passive aggressive ass, I’d like to go to my room now.” I move past him, not even giving him a second glance.
“In the front house?”
My steps falter once more.
…the what?
I turn on the sharp heels of my shoes and really look at the shine of his eyes within the shadows. Even in the dark, he’s all cruel lines and sharp smiles. Why are all these vampires so condescendingly cocky?
He holds my gaze, but never reveals his true meaning. Why am I doing this with him? I know he knows, and I’m ninety-eight percent sure my sister was far too smart to be murdered by an undead idiot like Aston Cardence.
So I give in.
“Front house?” I ask, despite my urge to feign understanding.
“Kyra Vega’s room is in the back house. But you know all about that, right?”
My arms fold slowly, and I feel him follow my moves with a shift of his eyes.
How am I able to feel him like that? How is he so far under my skin that I can sense him watching me in the dark?
“Would you take me there?” I ask quietly, calmly and confidently.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
A sigh shoves from my lips at the sound of his annoying voice.
“I asked if you would please take me to my room.” I have to really try to keep aggression away from my tone, but it’s so damn hard.
“Sorry. It’s so loud up here. Could you repeat that one more time?”
“I’m going to kill you!” I hiss.
“Ahhh, don’t make promises, Six. I bet I’d like that.”
I’m on him in the beat of a heart with my hands locking around the soft collar of his shirt. “What is your fucking problem? I’ve never met someone so fucking eager to die!”
Breathy laughter wafts over my wrists, and I can feel his genuine happiness flood through my body.
How does he so fluidly reflect every tiny sensation that he feels? It must be exhausting to compress everyone’s baggage the way he must do it.
He doesn’t struggle as he walks away, letting my hands fall around him as he slips out from beneath me.
“Come along then,” he calls after me.
And like a flip of a switch, he’s suddenly my ally.
For the moment, at least.
I trail behind him in the dark, when we get to the end of the hall, he turns down a section I haven’t yet explored. Yellow light from an opened door glows into the shadows, and we step past the room without pause. I blindly follow this man I know nothing about, simply because he knows I’m not who I say I am. He’s smart, and he trusts me, despite all my lies.
That doesn’t mean I trust him, though. But it does mean I’ll give him a small lead. I guess part of it has to do with the magic that’s streaming through me now. He feels safe. His emotions are given freely, and if he had any underlying motives, I don’t believe he’d be able to hide them from me.
I don’t understand it, but my instincts do.
He stops somewhere in the middle of the long endless hall, and the door he stands before is large and overbearing. He opens it with a swift and soundless pull. Cold air kisses my face and hair. He looks back at me with that same shine in his eyes as he nods and steps out.
The metal handle is enormous against my palm as I pull the heavy door closed behind us to find that we stand on a strange sort of bridge. White moonlight casts across the catwalk that leads from this building to another one across a courtyard.
The rear building.
Aston is quiet. For once. His steps are like a breeze, and he carries himself in much the same way. For an undead idiot… he is somewhat alluring. He maintains that same flawless veneer as the other supernaturals. It’s an untouchable pull of the shoulders and lift of the chin.
As if fear or monsters don’t exist in their world.
Except that I know they do.
Because otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.
He pauses at the center of the bridge and rests a
