My brows furrow and my stomach feels sick. “How old are their children?”
He seems pleased, as if I figured this out quicker than he expected.
“They just turned their middle child,” Cyrus says, his voice hardening. “A girl, who is barely eight years old.”
My stomach twists. “No,” I gape. “That’s…that’s sick. Now that poor girl is going to have to live the rest of her life, stuck in the body of an eight-year-old?”
Cyrus nods. He takes a step forward, his expression darkening. “You see, Logan. I wish I could make you understand that all these human problems you’re dealing with, they are so temporary and insignificant for you,” Cyrus says, standing just at my side, watching as I return to preparing my sandwich.
I want to bite back at his dismissal of my problems. But he’s right. What I’m going through, compared to all these things he apparently has to deal with…
I slice the cheese, only I place the blade too high on the block and slice off a piece far too thick to use on a sandwich. Gently, Cyrus takes the blade from my hand, and begins slicing perfectly thin pieces.
“I need to make you see that what is waiting for you beyond your death is so much greater than everything you’ve experienced,” he says, looking up to meet my eyes as he slides the cutting board in my direction. “Because right now, I can see that you still do not grasp any of it. You still cannot comprehend any scale of what is waiting for you.”
His hands. The way he handles the knife. Such precision. Such control.
The breath is caught in my chest, and I don’t even seem to care.
I watch Cyrus’ lips as he speaks.
Those beguiling, enchanting lips.
“I am taking you to Las Vegas this weekend,” Cyrus says, and my eyes flick up to his in surprise. “We will pay a visit to the House of Valdez. I want you to see what our world is really about.”
Our world.
He says it with such ease.
Like he really believes it. Doesn’t doubt it at all. Like it isn’t so totally crazy.
“Fine. But first I need to go back to my apartment and clear out the rest of my things,” I say, not letting him see the disbelief crawling all through my body. “Might as well wrap that up first. And you’re coming to help me. You. Not Mina. Not Fredrick. So, pick me up after work tomorrow with a truck. And bring some work gloves.”
Cyrus stares at me, emotionless, for a moment. But slowly, slowly enough that it creeps into my chest and wraps a razor net around my heart, a smile pulls on his mouth. He takes one step away from me, and then another.
I look over his shoulder, at Mina and Fredrick, who watch us. Each of them wears an equally shocked expression.
And I know, Cyrus is not the kind of person you boss around.
But I don’t give a damn who he is to the rest of them. I’m not going to let him have all the control.
I’m doubtful.
Yes, I bossed Cyrus around. I told him he had to help me himself. But he’s obviously a big wig. He might have looked entertained by my attempts to tell him what to do, but that doesn’t mean he’ll do it.
But when I walk out of Sykes Funeral Home at five o’clock, it’s not Mina or Fredrick waiting inside a small moving truck. It is, in fact, Cyrus.
A little smile crooks in the corner of my mouth as I walk across the parking lot. I can’t see his eyes, because they’re covered with thick sunglasses, but a little smile of his own pulls on his lips.
“I’m surprised,” I say when I pull the door open and slip into the passenger seat. “I didn’t think you’d really be here.”
“I’m a man of my word,” he says. He puts the truck into gear, and with a jerky jump forward, he turns to leave the parking lot. “Look, I brought gloves and everything.”
He nods his head toward two pairs of gloves on the dashboard. A larger black pair for him, and a smaller pink pair for me.
I huff a laugh and shake my head.
Ridiculous. All of it.
Cyrus still has a long way to go in becoming a smooth driver, but he gets us there without any damage to the truck, or anyone else on the road. He pulls into the parking lot of my apartment and backs toward my stairs, taking up two parking places.
Thankfully it’s fairly quiet, most people still at work.
I climb out, digging through my purse for the keys. Up the stairs I climb, Cyrus only three steps behind.
I slow as I approach the door, and my heart sinks into my stomach as I see the lime green piece of paper taped to the door.
SECOND NOTICE OF EVICTION. ALL BELONGINGS WILL BE FORFITTED IN SEVEN DAYS.
I reach out to snatch it from the door, but another hand darts out, ripping it from the tape.
“Eviction?” Cyrus says, reading it over with furrowed brows. “On what grounds?”
My eyes dart over to his for just a moment. My jaw tightens.
I shove the key into the lock and push the door open.
“I’ve had a few financial problems in the last two months,” I say simply, reaching for the light switch, only it doesn’t flick the lights on.
Great. The power has been shut off.
“Did you know about this, before you brought me here today?” Cyrus asks, following me inside.
“Yes,” I say emptily.
I immediately head toward my bedroom. I pause in the doorway, pulling out my phone. I text Amelia.
A few changes of plan. I’m finding a new place to stay. Think you could pick up the last of your things in the next week?
She responds immediately. Oh, wow. Yeah, I’m just at Tanner’s. I can be over there in about an hour.
An hour?
I swear under my breath.
Great. There will be no avoiding a face to face.
I don’t own hardly anything. But I really doubt that Cyrus and I will be done in an hour.
K, I respond. See you soon.
“Where would you like me to start?”
I turn around to see Cyrus surveying everything, a look of pity and slight disgust on his face.
He looks so out of place here. He’s so regal, so sophisticated. But here he is, in my dumpy apartment.
“Let’s get the big stuff loaded first,” I say, looking around. “Half is mine, half Amelia’s.”
I’m grateful that Cyrus says very little as he helps me load the couch. The TV and stand. My dresser and bed.
Crap. My stuff is crap.
Now that I’ve lived in Cyrus’ house for a while, I realize just how poor I am. How awful all my stuff is.
Why even keep any of my junk? I’ll be living out the remainder of my human days with Cyrus.
But what about after?
I have no idea where I’ll be expected to go after.
Cyrus loads my few dishes into boxes while I finish packing up all my things in the bathroom and my bedroom.
I find two pictures in the back of my closet. They’re of me and Amelia our freshman year at Greendale Community. We’d snuck into this party. Greendale has no actual frats, but there was this one apartment building close to campus that tried to act like they were. It was so lame, we were laughing at all the thinly veiled attempts all the guys made to get us into bed.
We’d snapped pictures with all the drunk, passed out idiots we’d found, after we’d drawn mustaches on their faces.
I smile, remembering the fun, simple night. It had been exactly what I’d needed.
But I look around, to my now empty room, and realize, there aren’t going to be any more fun-filled, lighthearted nights for me.
“Lo?”
All my internal organs disappear at the sound of Amelia’s voice.
“Oh, hi,” I hear her say as I scramble to my feet. “You, uh, you must be Collin.”
I dart out into the living room, just in time to see Cyrus walking toward Amelia, his hand outstretched.
“And you must be Amelia,” he says with a charming smile.
Except charming doesn’t even begin to cover
it.
Through the terror ripping through my gut, it also fills with butterflies.
“I am,” Amelia says, blushing, hard. She keeps giving him this little…look. Flirtatious, embarrassed, giddy. “It’s nice to finally meet Logan’s mystery man.”
“Hey,” I say. But my voice sounds too tight. Too strangled. “You sure got over here quick.”
My beautiful, blonde bombshell friend looks over at me. “Well, yeah. You randomly say you’re giving up the apartment and giving me a tight deadline put a little fire under me. What’s the deal?”
I feel my face blanch. Think. Think, think, think.
“When Logan told me she was having a difficult time keeping up with the rent on her own, I offered her a room in my house.” Cyrus offers a smooth, logical lie, just like that.
I look over at him. And I’m…grateful.
“Really?” Amelia asks doubtfully, looking between Cyrus and I. “You two are already moving in together?”
I bite my lower lip. I reach out for her hand. “Can…can I talk to you alone for a sec?”
Amelia glances back at Cyrus once more but follows me.
I pull her into my bedroom and shut the door. It’s only a façade of privacy, I know Cyrus says he can hear every word. But I need Amelia to think this is just between the two of us.
“Lo, this seems a little crazy,” she hisses, her voice low. “You’ve only know this guy for what? A week? You can’t be serious about moving in with him!”
I have to sell this.
I have to make her believe this is for the best. Because I can’t answer with the truth, to any of her questions.
“Look,” I say, trying to seem a little embarrassed. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to feel bad. But covering all the rent on my own has been a little more challenging than I expected. You’re right, it is way early in this thing to be moving in together. But Amelia, I’m happy.”
Sell it.
Let it show in your eyes. Smile. Stand straight.
“Collin is…not like anyone I’ve ever met,” I say. “You know me, I’m always so bitter that I just can’t see past anyone’s flaws. But Collin…” I pause, his face filling my mind. “He can take all of my acid. He’s got his own special brand of it. And maybe this won’t work out in the long run, but right now, this is where I am.”
Whoa. I’m actually impressed with myself.
Amelia studies me, looking for signs of lies or distress.
But slowly, a smile creeps onto her face. She shakes her head. “It’s about time you did something a little crazy and open up to someone.” She laughs, throwing her arms around me. “I never expected this kind of speed from you, Lo. But I don’t know. You just seem different. You got this, don’t you?”
No. Not really. Not any of it.
Except for putting Cyrus in his place every now and then.
But I keep selling it.
I chuckle, squeezing her tight. “Thanks for understanding.”
She lets go of me. “A week huh? And then we’re out of here for good?”
I nod. And I’m filled with sadness.
“The end of an era.” she says, frowning for show. “Look at us, growing up, getting in serious, committed relationships. We’re hard core adulting these days.”
I laugh. “Something like that.” My eyes slide toward the door. “If you have a hard time getting ahold of me this weekend, don’t freak, okay? Collin and I are taking a little trip this weekend.”
“Again?” she asks, wagging her eyebrows. “You two are like animals. Where you headed this time?”
It’ll be easier to keep my stories straight if I base them in truth. “Vegas.”
This time, it’s Amelia who blanches white faced. “Vegas? You’re not… You’re not going to go and elope on me, are you?”
A laugh bursts from my chest and I shake my head with a curse. “No, I swear it. I will not be returning from Vegas married to Collin.”
She actually looks relieved. “You better not or I’m going to be seriously pissed. I claimed dibs on being your maid of honor years ago.”
I smile, shaking my head, hugging her once more.
“I’ve really got to hurry,” I say, releasing her. “Our flight leaves in three hours.”
“Say no more,” she says, flinging the door open and stepping out. “Have fun, but not too much fun.”
She walks to the door. And I don’t miss how she puts just a little more swing into her hips as she walks.
My face heats. My jaw clenches.
“Let’s do a double when you crazy cats get back,” she says, stopping in the doorway and turning back. “You two, and Tanner and I.”
“I—” I go to decline.
“We’d be delighted,” Cyrus cuts me off though, flashing another of those intense smiles.
Amelia winks at me, and then walks down the stairs to her car.
Slowly, I look over at Cyrus, glaring the look of death.
“It would have been rude to decline,” he says, still smiling that wicked smile.
Chapter 10
We dump my larger things at a nearby storage unit. It hurts my pride when Cyrus pays for it, but I’m certainly in no position to say no. It’s seven o’clock when we get back to the house.
I head to my room to pack, and for some reason, Cyrus follows me, watching as I sort through my clothes.
“You may bring a few casual clothes, but Mina has already packed you a bag with the essentials of what I would like you to wear.” He walks into my room, standing just inside the doorway.
“What you would like me to wear?” I question, raising an angry eyebrow at him. “I know you’re old, but this isn’t the eighteenth century, anymore. You don’t get to declare what you do and don’t want me to wear.”
There it is, that little gleam in Cyrus’ eyes. Like a little thrill when I stand up to him. He takes two steps further into the room.
“Are you saying that you know what to wear when meeting the Royal family in Las Vegas? That you know what to wear to a ball hosted by vampires?”
I swallow. A chill tingles down my spine. A little fear. A little excitement.
My life may be insane right now. Chaotic. But it’s gotten so much more interesting since Cyrus burst into it.
“Fine,” I concede. I pull some shorts and a few t-shirts out and toss them into a bag. “Since I’m inexperienced in the political posturing events of vampires, I’ll go with your suggestions.”
“You are so kind,” Cyrus banters.
“We need to leave now,” Mina says from out in the hall.
I toss the rest of my things in my bag. And it’s a little more than bizarre when Cyrus takes the bag from me, shouldering it without a word and walks down the hall.
The four of us load into the SUV and Fredrick drives us to the airport.
While I expected a domestic commercial flight at the Denver airport, we instead roll down an unfamiliar road, toward a further location from the main terminals. I look out the window, through the darkening evening, and my eyes widen slightly as Fredrick drives right up to a sleek white jet.
“Is this…” I stutter, watching the workers who hustle all around. “Is this yours?”
“When jet-setting around the world,” Cyrus says as he opens the door, darting around to my side and opening mine, “It’s a much more pleasant experience when you have your own transportation.”
I scoff, taking his hand as he helps me out. I shake my head, looking at the jet in disbelief.
The money this man must have. I can’t even imagine what that must be like.
Fredrick and Mina take the bags, which there are quite a few of, and load them up into the plane. Cyrus stands at the bottom of the stairs, indicating a hand for me to take the stairs first.
A little bit of a smile pulls on my lips as I take them, one at a time.
I step inside, and it’s just as luxurious as I imagined.
The entire interior is finished in bl
ack and white. The oversized seats are a plush white leather with black trim. The walls are darkest black, eating all the light. Red lights line the floor, casting a very faint glow.
“I hope you’ll be comfortable for our trip,” Cyrus’ voice suddenly whispers next to my ear. I startle slightly, looking back at him. He wears an amused, satisfied smile.
The crew wraps things up, and Mina and Fredrick take seats toward the back, each on a phone, talking hurriedly to someone on the other end. Cyrus and I take seats on the same side of the plane, seats that face one another.
The pilot, a pale man with nearly white-blond hair comes out, speaking to everyone, but he says it in German. Cyrus quietly says something affirmative, and he disappears.
I look out into the dark while we taxi out onto the runway. And just a minute later, I’m pressed back in my seat as we gain speed, and then, we’re in the air.
“I wonder if you’ll tell me,” Cyrus says once we’ve finished climbing. “You’ve said some things that I don’t quite understand. You seem to have had a good life. Loving parents. A younger brother you seem to care about. Rath, despite you not knowing the truth about him, has always been there for you. You’re well on your way to your dream career.” He pauses, studying me with his forest eyes. “But what you say. You called yourself bitter today when speaking to your friend. You said things go from bad to worse for you. Would you help me see where that comes from?”
He sits with one ankle over the opposite knee. His hand casually rests on his thigh, the other elbow braced in the window showing a dark world, slowly rubbing his chin.
Dark. Deep. Captivating. Terrifying.
He owns all of it.
I shake my head, looking back out the window. “You’re very observant,” I say. I tuck my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “Life was going pretty good. I really shouldn’t have anything to complain about. My parents are great. Eshan is a pest, but I love him. I have Amelia. Had Eli. And I love my job.”
But I shake my head as I stare out at the night sky.
“Sometimes, even when you’re doing everything right, life has a way of knocking you on your back, and kicking you while you’re down.”