Damien made a little sound with his mouth, shaking his head at me as if to say, ‘Well, you’ve done it now.’ He gestured to a row of seats, and I brushed past him. He came to sit next to me after I made my choice, pulling a newspaper he’d been carrying out from under his arm and began reading.
That was totally fine with me. The less he said to me the better. I amused myself by watching the other people who would be joining us on our flight move about the terminal. I wondered what they would say if I suddenly stood up and told them I was being held prisoner by a demon who was about to board the plane with them. It ought to get security here at the very least. They probably wouldn’t let me on either, thinking I was a complete lunatic. What would Damien do then? Besides kill my family.
My life was definitely beginning to border on the ridiculous.
Vance reappeared, striding across the space holding a long paper sack and a drink in his hand.
“I hope a sub sandwich is okay,” he said, handing the bag to me. “I had them toast it open face like you like it. And here’s an orange soda too.” He offered the drink.
My stomach growled in response the wonderful smell of the food, but I hesitated to take it. Though I normally loved kind and caring Vance, I was furious with him right now, and I didn’t want to take anything from him.
“Just eat it, Portia,” he said, thrusting the things at me. “You can still hate me all you want while you do it.”
I rolled my eyes and reached out for them, and he moved to sit in the chair on the other side of me, while I looked for somewhere to place my soda.
“Here, allow me,” he said, holding the drink for me.
“Thanks,” I muttered, and I opened the bag containing the sandwich, tearing off a chunk to eat. “Would you care for some?” I asked before taking a bite.
“No, you can have it. You need to keep your strength up.”
“No more than you do.” I held out a piece out toward him.
He stared at me for a moment before he finally reached to take what I offered.
We ate together in silence while Damien stayed hidden behind his newspaper. After we were done with our food, Vance gathered up the trash and went to throw it away.
It was very awkward after that as the three of sat together unspeaking until finally the boarding call was made, and we picked up our carry-on bags, moving to join the line of those waiting to get onto the plane.
We were soon settled into first class, and I decided I’d had enough of the strained silence between me and my companions. I settled into my seat and closed my eyes, letting sleep claim me.
I woke up several hours later when Vance gently shook me to inform me we were beginning our decent into Dulles International Airport. I shifted sleepily in my chair, yawning and stretching a bit, before glancing out the window at the twinkling lights of Chantilly, Virginia below us. I wondered what adventures life would hold for us here.
It didn’t take long for us to find ourselves back in another limousine, bound for the St. Regis Hotel. We were greeted directly upon arrival and taken straight up to the suite Damien had reserved for us. There were two bedrooms, and the valet placed mine and Vance’s luggage in one room while another valet placed Damien’s in his.
Damien also ordered an in-suite meal from the French-American cuisine restaurant that was on the premises.
I wandered around the plush setting taking in the gold décor of our room, before moving to stare out the window at Washington, D.C. and the buildings surrounding us.
“So what’s the plan from here on out?” Vance asked when the bellhops left the room.
“First we will dine, and then the rest of the evening is for relaxing and sleeping at your leisure. We’ll go over the next step in our adventure tomorrow morning. So I suggest we settle in and make ourselves comfortable for our stay here.”
Vance nodded, and I took that as my cue to go into our bedroom. I wandered over to our suitcase and began removing items and placing them where they would be most easily accessed during our stay. I pulled my red gown from the garment bag it was in to let it hang properly in the walk in closet so it wouldn’t wrinkle.
When I turned it was to see Vance walk through the door, closing it quietly behind him, and he lifted a finger to his lips, warning me to be quiet.
I held still, wondering what he was up to. He crossed the space, towing me into the closet.
“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry about earlier,” he said rapidly, reaching out to take my face in his hands. “How can I ever convince you I’m not so cruel that I would have ever deliberately put you in danger? I never even considered the possibility of the Awakening ever being removed from you again and what a blood exchange could mean.”
I was dumbfounded, unable to think of anything to say.
“I will admit I was marking you on purpose,” he continued on. “I had this fear come over me he might try to do something similar to you. I know you’ve always been staunchly against making a demon conversion though, so I hoped that meant you’d be safe. But when you started thinking about what it would be like to drink from me I suddenly saw a way to mark you as my own and keep you from him as well.”
He was still truly terrified of losing me to his father. That much was obvious.
“Why did you say those awful things to me then?” I asked, unable to keep the tremor from my voice.
He clenched his teeth, and he reached out to stroke a hand against my hair. “Because they’re true,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I am selfish, and greedy, and I’ll do anything it takes to have you … absolutely anything.”
“Then why the forced separation?”
“Because I need to protect both of us from being weak, making us unable to do this mission properly. Please try to understand. I love being with you, and I want to be with you, but right now I just can’t. It’s too dangerous.”
“I think you’re being ridiculous,” I said, moving past him to place my hand on the knob.
“Think whatever you want,” he replied. “It isn’t going to change anything.”
“I already knew that,” I bit out at him. “Heaven forbid anyone do anything around here that isn’t the way you think things should be done.” I stormed out of the closet, him following after me.
“Grow up, Portia,” he said in anger.
“Don’t you dare presume to talk down to me that way,” I returned heatedly. “I’m not your child, and I don’t need you to treat me like one either.”
“Then quit acting like one,” Vance said, his eyes flaming.
“Get over yourself,” I replied, marching over to the bed to grab a pillow, picking it up and chucking it across the room at him. “Get out of here, Vance. Go have dinner with your father and don’t you dare come back in here. I’m going to bed, and I don’t want to see you again until the morning. Maybe then I will be calm enough, and adult enough, to carry on a conversation with you, but until then you and the couch are about to become best friends.”
Vance looked at me hotly before striding from the room, slamming the door closed behind him.
Chapter 12
I didn’t see Vance or Damien again until I left the room the following morning and wandered into the dining area. Both of them were seated at opposite ends of the table, eating in silence.
Pulling a chair out in the middle, I sat down and began to serve myself from the buffet of food in the center.
“How did you sleep, my dear?” Damien asked cordially, lifting a pitcher of orange juice and pouring some into a glass for me.
I didn’t answer him. It was rude, but I was beyond caring about manners right at the moment.
“That well?” Damien continued on as if I were talking to him. “I would wager to say Vance didn’t sleep much better. I could hear him tossing and turning on the couch all night long. It was quite distracting.”
Good, I thought to myself, making sure to keep my eyes on my plate and not interact with either of them at all.
“So are the tw
o of you ready to hear the plan for today?” Damien asked, and I still didn’t acknowledge him, but Vance did.
“We’ve been ready since you introduced this whole thing to us days ago,” he replied in an irritated voice. “Let’s get on with it.”
“Very well,” Damien said. “Tonight we will attend a charity ball at a private residence of a collector I know. While we’re there we will be implementing a plan to get down into a secure vault where our host keeps his very private collection. There we’ll attempt to recover a key, which happens to be a set of three Greek torches bound together by a rope.
“To get the torches we will need to bypass a state of the art security system. There are two guards who do a regular ground patrol of the property, but under the circumstances of the party, there will be more on the premises to provide extra protection during the event. We’ll need to follow the time schedule of the guard on his route, moving through his checkpoints at a specific time. There are also other alarms that will trigger around the artifact.”
“Why do you need us?” Vance asked Damien. “This all sounds like stuff you could easily circumvent with your magic.”
“It would seem the case, but these are very special artifacts we’ll be gathering, all with extreme magical significance. The odds of wards being in place with these items are great.”
“Do you have any idea what these so called wards will entail?”
“None,” Damien replied, reaching for his steaming mug of coffee and taking a sip.
“Isn’t that a little presumptuous of you then, to think you’ll be able to prepare for something, when you actually have no idea what it is?” Vance’s voice was measured, but the expression on his face looked a little angry.
“I have faith the three of us can pull anything off, son, don’t you? I mean look at us.” He waved his arm around. “We’re some of the most powerful witches and warlocks in the world. If we can’t do it, who can?” He chuckled, as if this answer was obvious.
“Pardon me if I don’t relish the idea of dying at a moment’s notice,” Vance said in a frustrated tone. “I don’t have the instant healing properties you and Portia are gifted with anymore.”
“But you do regenerate,” Damien reminded him. “So, all is well.”
“I only regenerate at your whim,” Vance argued back hotly. “I wouldn’t put it past you to leave me rotting on the floor while you whisked my wife off to places unknown.”
Damien laughed right out loud at this comment. “As tempting as that sounds, I can assure you that you are safe with me. I need you for other projects, and I’m afraid I would no longer have Portia’s willing cooperation if I were to allow something to happen to you.”
“You’ve got that right,” I mumbled under my breath, stabbing viciously into my eggs with my fork.
Damien laughed again, the sound grating on my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. “See, son, she does still care about you this morning. Maybe you won’t have to sleep on the couch again tonight.”
“The couch will be just fine with me, thanks,” Vance replied, pushing his chair away from the table and striding out of the room. A moment later I heard the bedroom door slam closed behind him.
“Hmmm. Looks like he’s still mad at you though,” Damien said to me with a slight smirk. “You should go make up with him.”
“Don’t you have something important to do this morning?” I bit back, lifting my head to glare at him. “Like crawling under a rock to die? Just butt out, will you? This is none of your business.”
“On the contrary, this is very much my business. I need you and Vance to be working together like a well-oiled machine, not bickering together like school children.”
“I don’t give a rat’s rear end about what you need,” I countered, feeling myself growing more upset by the second. “You’ll learn to take what we give you, or you’ll get nothing. You’re forcing us to help you. We’re not going to just waltz around and pretend this whole ordeal has been a bed of roses for your benefit, so back off!” I stood and angrily strode from the room, knowing the bedroom Vance had just entered was the only sanctuary I had available, so I pushed through the door, shutting and locking it behind me.
The shower was running in the bathroom, so I went over and crawled into the bed, pulling the cover ups until they were over my head. I snuggled down into my little self-made cocoon and closed my eyes.
My thoughts naturally drifted back to Vance, and over our estrangement of late. I didn’t care for the ever widening gap that was moving between us, but seeing neither of us was willing to budge on our view of the issue, it didn’t seem that we would be reaching a resolution anytime soon.
I never knew how lonely the world could be.
I was unaware I had fallen asleep until I felt someone lightly shaking me.
“Portia,” Vance’s voice softly permeated into my subconscious mind. “Baby, it’s time to get up. Damien wants to go over some things with us, and he’s also booked you an appointment at a salon to get your hair done for tonight.”
“What time is it?” I asked groggily, trying to wake up with a slight shake of my head.
“It’s after two.”
“Two o’clock?” I said, astounded. “Why didn’t you come get me earlier?”
“I figured you needed your rest.”
I pushed the covers down my body before stretching lazily, like a cat, trying to stir my muscles and get the blood flowing. Stifling a yawn, I glanced at Vance, only to catch him casting his gaze over my form.
His eyes returned to my face after a moment and were flaming with a palpable desire.
I swallowed thickly—suddenly aware of his pulse pounding in his neck, and the memory of the taste of his blood flooded my mouth, causing me to salivate even more.
I wanted him.
He wanted me.
Running a hand through my hair, I sat up slightly and licked my lips as I looked at him with hesitantly.
“I … I’ve got to go do something,” Vance said, his voice strained, and he left quickly.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and tried to still the longing inside me. It was bad enough I craved him physically all the time—adding wanting to drink from him on top of that didn’t sit well with me.
Unfortunately, the more I tried not to think about the way he tasted, the stronger the urge became.
Grumbling softly in frustration, I got out of bed and made my way to the kitchen to see if I could find something sweet to eat that would take the edge off for me.
I walked into the small area which contained an icebox, and I opened it to look inside. I gasped out loud at the sight in front of me.
Jar upon jar of blood lined the shelves in the refrigerator. I hadn’t even considered the possibility Damien would’ve brought a supply that didn’t include a live donor. I mean, this made sense actually, because it was easier to travel with and saved having to bring someone else along.
I looked at the cold blood, and my stomach turned a bit at the thought. I couldn’t imagine it would taste good chilled like this. I closed my eyes and remembered Vance’s hot, sweet, blood searing through my veins.
My eyelids popped open, and I reached for a container. I had to know if this would stop the craving I had for him.
I unscrewed the lid on the pint and lifted the liquid to my nose, taking a cautionary sniff. It smelled okay, not like anything really, so I lifted the glass to my lips and took a tentative swallow.
I closed my eyes and sighed.
It tasted good, so very good. Cold, yes, but still thick and sweet, and I decided I needed more because that small sample wasn’t enough. I tipped the glass again taking a larger swallow, and I realized I could taste the magic in the blood. I felt it as it began to slowly seep through my system.
This thought gave me a slight pause because I knew this blood had to come from somebody. I stared at it again, and a gnawing hunger suddenly gripped me.
I needed more. This wasn’t enough to satisfy me.
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Lifting the jar to my lips, I started guzzling it, trying to replace that sensation, fulfilling that craving I felt with Vance. But somehow it wasn’t sufficient.
Frustrated, I soon realized I’d drained the jar completely. I sank to the floor, setting the empty container beside me, and I reached for another one, quickly opening it.
I devoured the contents of this one as well and reached for another one. It tasted delicious, but still I was left craving.
Draining the third pint, I grabbed the next jar, trying to find the satisfaction I was looking for. I was frantic, trying to drown myself in the flavor. I could feel the blood running out of the sides of my mouth, and dripping onto my chest in my haste to consume whatever I was desperate to find.
I needed more.
“Portia? What the …,” Vance’s voice trailed off in surprise, breaking into my frenzied moment, and I let the jar slip from my grasp. It shattered when it hit the floor, spraying the remainder of the contents all over me.
Quickly I stood, turning to face him guiltily, before lifting my chin a notch to stare at him in defiance. I felt the blood still dripping from my chin, and I swiped the back of my hand across, but felt as if I only smeared it worse.
I maintained eye contact with him while his wide eyes traveled in a path from my head to my toes then over to the mess and empty containers on the floor.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing?” Vance said, his blue eyes glancing back, drilling into mine.
“I was thirsty,” I said, folding my arms, challenging him to say anything against me.
He said nothing, only continued to look at me, though I could see a tick working near the back of his jaw from clenching his teeth so hard.
We sat staring at each other for several moments, before he finally moved slowly toward me. He stood right in front of me, and he reached out to trail his fingers under my bloody chin.
“Why?” he asked softly.
I wasn’t exactly sure what he was asking me, so I picked an answer I felt that would best suit me and my argument. “Because I knew you wouldn’t feed me, and I knew you wouldn’t let me feed you either.”