JENNIE
Black hair.
Frail skin.
Haunting black eyes.
"I will make you a wager, Jennie," he told me, his name every bit as beautiful as his youthful appearance. Raphael. "I will tell you what Lisa bartered for you—in fact, I will give it to you. As long as you help me discover something that she might value more…"
I should have run. I tried to. Red walls enveloped me, forming an elegant dining room, crowded by watchful figures with hooded eyes. I took a step and the scenery expanded around me, stretching forever. No matter where I turned, black eyes held me captive, boring deep to scrape my soul.
His hand captured mine, as quickly as a striking cobra. "I already have my suspicions."
He was so cold—shockingly, abnormally so. It felt as if death itself had taken hold of me.
"All you would be required to do is help me prove it to be true or false. Then I shall uphold my end of our bargain. Simple enough?"
A frigid thumb traced the back of my hand. As if drawn by an invisible force, my gaze drifted to his throat, where a serpent pendant hung. Its red eyes kept me in place as Raphael placed his hand over my stomach, imparting his chill into the flesh underneath.
"A simple suspicion," he repeated in a burst of breath so cold that I half expected frost to crystallize right there on my skin.
Then he lowered his head and bared his fangs…
I startled awake to a familiar scene—an empty room. Warm daylight streamed in through the massive window, unabated by the curtain someone had partially drawn over the view. My panic subsided as the fragments of my nightmare faded.
But I wasn't at Kim Manor. Noisy machines still monitored my body through various wires and devices—still in the hospital room, then. At least the IV was gone, as was the mysterious bag of blood.
I could recall those details, though my brain seemed determined to avoid remembering anything else. Thinking took a back seat to the desperate ache unfurling in my belly anyway. I sniffed and realized why. The bedside tray had been drawn up close to the bed and on it was a steaming plate of eggs, along with a Styrofoam cup. My selective memory gave me an inkling as to what might be inside it.
Something red that tasted like copper.
Not exactly the most charming of breakfast invitations. My "doctor" was exerting her presence into my life with little effort.
At least she wasn't here. I had no one to prove anything to. No one to judge. Just my own terrified thoughts playing a morbid commentary as I eyed the straw and pictured the liquid within.
This is insane, Jennie.
You're hungry, Jennie.
You're starving, Jennie.
This is insane.
I clung to that last voice, the pathetic whisper of the person I had spent twenty-six years living as. Calm, reserved Jennie Kim. The woman content to be a spinster. The heiress who needed no one. That girl wouldn't drink whatever was in that cup. She would cross her arms in stubborn pride and suffer.
Don't be so childish.
That newer voice was unwelcome, suspiciously masculine. To silence it, I sank back against the pillows and pulled the thin sheet over my head, smothering as much noise as the cheap cotton could. Almost as if to mock me…I felt. Movement. Something. Deep down inside me, like the flexing of a muscle I didn't even know existed. It throbbed, demanding attention. Acknowledgment.
The longer I attempted to ignore it, the sharper the pain became. Insistent.
Drink.
I hauled myself into a sitting position. My hands trembled, outstretched before me, but it felt like ages before I gathered up the nerve to reach for the cup. I cringed with the first sip of lukewarm liquid. Before disgust could fully register, I was already swallowing the second. Third. An endless stream that didn't cease until the final few drops noisy crawled up the straw. My hands still shook as I set it aside and pulled the tray closer. The eggs were lukewarm, but I managed to redeem myself by devouring them slowly.
That hollow feeling in my stomach felt sated once I'd cleared the plate, but it still demanded…more.
"Jennie?"
I looked over at the doorway and found a woman standing there. Her dark eyes softened as recognition seared through my chest.
A much more welcome sight than Lisa.
"Jisoo?"
"Who else?" Her mouth cracked into the most beautiful smile. With her black hair slicked back against her head and her slender body clad in an ebony pantsuit, she looked as witchy as ever. "I've brought you something to wear other than those hideous gowns." She lifted her arms, each one displaying a dress on a hanger. "Which one do you prefer?"
Amid the chaos and turmoil I desperately fought to ignore, fashion was an abrupt, though preferable, change in subject.
One selection she held was a rich, modest black, made of silk. The other was a similar design but made of white lace.
"I'm partial to one in particular," Jisoo admitted, fingering the white dress. "But I'm curious what you think." Her accent gave the words a lilting edge and I relished every note. I'd forgotten how lovely someone's voice could sound when they weren't growling threats or shouting insults.
Or peddling vicious lies.
"The white one," I blurted, pointing toward my selection.
"Of course. I see you still have your good taste." She gently set the chosen dress over the foot of the bed. Slung from her shoulder was a black duffel bag, which she set down at her feet. "Lisa asked me to design a few things for you," she explained while folding the black dress and tucking it inside the duffel. "Luckily I'd just finished some new designs that I managed to tailor in a pinch. Though I probably should get your measurements again…"
I'd been in the process of sitting up while she spoke, and her eyes settled over my concave stomach.
Memories gnawed at the edges of my skull. Snippets of a hushed conversation too terrifying to interpret—poor Jennie…
"You should try it on," she said, gently dragging me back to the present. "Though I should warn you that Lisa made some…specifications."
"Like what?" I ran my hand over the surface of the white dress. It felt silky smooth—not laced with broken glass or any other devious tricks I could discern.
"Things she promised were utterly necessary." Her upper lip contorted in a grimace. "I'm sure you'll discover that soon enough. Here, let me help you."
She eased my gown over my head and guided me into a bathroom suite attached to the room. Facing my reflection in the mirror, I cringed. For a woman who'd needed a blood transfusion, I didn't have much to show for it. There were no bruises. No cuts. No broken bones to explain away my slow, sluggish movements.
But I was still rail thin. Too thin.
"I will definitely have to measure you again," Jisoo deduced, observing me with a frown. "You're skin and bones—"
"It's nothing," I blurted, letting myself ignore my hazy memories of Lisa's diagnosis for a split-second. Something about a growth. Utterly trivial. "I'm sure anything you make will fit just fine."
"Oh." Jisoo swallowed hard. Her eyes scanned my face, and her lips twitched, resisting a frown. "Did Lisa talk to you?—"
"More or less." I shrugged and turned my attention to the shower. As the water warmed, I tested the temperature with my fingers. Then I stepped beneath the spray, allowing the sound of rushing water to obscure the awkward silence.
Lisa deserved some credit. Pregnancy was an intriguing diagnosis, but no different from hemohemorrahgia—a complex lie designed to extort something at my expense.
That was all it was.
"It's good to see you again," Jisoo called to me, her voice muffled by the shower spray. I snuck a glance at her while lathering my hair with the bottle of shampoo. "I should have visited you sooner. But…" She shook her head, her smile strained. "Do you need help? I'm dying to get my hands on those curls again."
I let her assist me—and I needed the help. For the first time in ages, water felt hot. My skin seared, painfully raw. There was no residual numbness radiating through my bones to shield from sensation.
But…
--
I froze, half dressed, transfixed on my reflection in a mirror hanging above the sink. A stranger stared back at me. I scanned her eyes, searching for the hint of a monster dwelling within her fragile frame.
A salty taste still lingered on my tongue, impossible to choke down.
"Jennie?" A warm touch on my shoulder drew my attention to the woman beside me. "What do you think?" she asked while helping me into the white dress.
"It's perfect." The praise wasn't an understatement. Softer than gossamer, the material fit just as comfortably as any previous item of clothing she'd designed for me.
"I think so too. But damn." Frowning, she glanced at a watch on her wrist. "I wish I could stay longer, but Lisa will kill me if I don't finish at least a good bit of your clothing as soon as possible. In the meantime, I left a few things to tide you over." She winked and headed back into the hallway. "You should get some rest. I will check on you later."
By the time I had the sense to whisper, "Goodbye," she was already gone.
Semi-darkness greeted me as I opened my eyes. The ceiling was a swath of flickering shadow, and a lone fluorescent bulb illuminated the room, throwing the man standing at the foot of my bed in stark contrast.
Once again, she'd come armed with a cup of mysterious liquid and a bowl of food. Soup, it smelled like. Along with a thick slice of bread and another piece of cake.
"Eat," she prompted, placing the meal down before me.
Drowsiness rendered me compliant enough to accept the cup without complaint. It was already in my hand as I closed my eyes. Drank.
The moment I downed the last drop, she was there to ease it from my grasp. I opened my eyes and found her eyeing me from head to toe. I squirmed as she lingered over my face.
The rage was gone from her expression, but in its wake remained something far too close to concern.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine," I croaked. "For someone who has cancer, anyway."
"Cancer?" So much for concerned. She went rigid, her eyes narrowed.
I nodded. "A tumor. That's what you implied, isn't it? I must have vampire cancer. Either that, or I am a harlot with no morals—"
"Jennie…" Her teeth clattered, but she snatched up the spoon rather than arguing. "Here."
Accepting it, I twisted the metal between my fingers. The polished surface displayed my reflection, but I barely recognized it. Wide, green eyes and a pursed, pensive expression. Turning away, I fished for any distraction. My scattered thoughts provided one. "Jisoo brought me clothing." I gestured to the duffel on the floor. "But she said you requested an alteration. What?"
"How are you feeling?" She repeated without acknowledging my question. "I've asked Dr. Martin to reexamine you—"
"I have my own doctor." I fought to put some indignation into my tone and failed. My voice shook. I spent more time eyeing her suit than meeting her gaze directly. She hadn't changed, and the color scheme made her seem even paler than usual—a statue formed of ivory.
"Your so-called doctor, one Elodie Goodfellow," Lisa said.
Was I surprised? Perhaps. Frankly, I couldn't tell fury from shock.
"A medical doctor with more than a few mysterious donations in her bank account from undisclosed benefactors. I've taken the liberty of severing ties with her on your behalf and canceling your donation to St. Mary's. The fewer who have access to your medical records, the better."
My brain blanked at her audacity. One detail stuck out, however. "So, that wasn't you. The L.M. donor?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"L.M.," I explained. "One of the board members of St. Mary's hospital. A donor, I might add, who only appeared after Dr. Wallis vanished. Literally overnight."
I had two different brochures in my stash at home to prove it. One printed only a week after she'd supposedly left the country.
"That's why you went to see Gabriel Lanic?" she asked. "If I were to stalk you from afar, Jennie, don't you believe I'd hide behind an identity more obscure than my initials?"
She had a point.
"I… Like hell I'll go to your doctor." With one hand, I shoved the blankets back and sat upright, facing the window. "You have no right to—"
"Do not fight me on this." Her tone. I had never heard it quite so hard. As if maintaining this conversation alone had stretched her tolerance paper thin.
I twisted around to face her. "And why shouldn't I?"
She laughed, but her eyes were wide, her mouth partially open—a chilling display of ivory fangs. "You have a rare form of cancer," she growled. "And you think that just any doctor in the world can help you?"
"Like you care," I hissed. "According to you, I'm a harlot who should consult another man for assistance in this matter. Right?"
She didn't even look insulted. Or guilty. Or contrite.
She met my gaze unflinchingly and said, "You should pray that you accidentally wandered into another man's bed and developed your cancer. Otherwise…"
My stunned silence seemed to satisfy her enough that she left that statement hanging in the air. She tugged on the hem of her jacket, smoothing the edges, her poised, calculating self once more—but there were cracks. For one, she was still wearing that gray suit from the other day, but it wasn't so neat anymore. Dark splotches stained the suit jacket, rivaling the deep crimson of her tie. Strangest of all, my cross shone against her chest as if she'd never removed it.
Too much. Closing my eyes brought me seconds to regain control of my thoughts. Focus, Jennie.
She was something to focus on. My rage. My fear. This impending panic surging through my veins. Grasping for stability, I honed it all like a laser, pointed it directly at Lisa Manoban.
"I'm sorry if you didn't realize this," I croaked. "But you don't own me. Not anymore. So take your insults and get the hell out!"
It was the last part of that statement that did it. It, as in made her jaw clench and her irises shrink around fathomless pupils.
"Your body is practically decomposing around you." Her eyes lowered to my throat. "And you think this is the time to flaunt something as trivial ownership? If I didn't bring you here when I did, you would have died."
Died. She made that word sound too final. Not a joke.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
Her back stiffened as she turned away. "The talisman I'd given you…"
"What?" I demanded. "What did it do?"
When her gaze returned to mine, I barely recognized it. "Let's just say there was a complication I hadn't foreseen."
"So, that's why you took it back?" I watched it swing from her neck as my fingers brushed my bare throat.
"I brought you here," she said without confirming it. "I ran the tests. Trust me when I say that cancer is the last conclusion I would come to. So take this at face value. Or as a warning. Until this is resolved, I'm not letting you out of my sight."
Alarm bells went off in my head, but I remained silent.
"I don't intend to spend all of my time fighting with you, either." A deliberate pause punctuated the air before she asked, "Your sister—have you heard from her?"
Don't fall for it, Jennie, my inner voice warned. I didn't like how carefully she had phrased the question. Soft. Almost nonchalant, like a normal change of subject.
Funny, because it was my turn to laugh.
"I told her to leave," I found myself confessing without understanding why. "And she did. I told her I never wanted to see her again. And I haven't. So, no, I haven't heard from her."
"Not even a phone call?" her tone conveyed the suspicion she didn't voice—I don't believe you.
"No." I shrugged, eyeing my trembling hands. "Not even a phone call."
I had mulled over the various reasons for the silence. Maybe she hated me for not being the special, chosen one? Maybe I hated her. For leaving me when I needed her, and then coming back…
But only to clean up a mess she'd made.
Lisa would have never poisoned me without darling Roseann. Despite everything, I thought I could ignore the deception—but betrayal was a strange animal. One day, all might seem well again. Those fresh wounds might even start to heal, scabbed over with assurances of love and heartfelt promises.
But a promise couldn't soothe the underlying infection for very long. Rosé, despite her apologies, had been unwilling to enlighten me on any aspect of her life. She didn't possess Lisa's penchant for brutal honesty, either, and every day that I saw her there, wandering the halls of Kim Manor as if nothing had changed…
The house was mine, technically, as was the fortune.
I just never expected her to forfeit it all so easily.
"You haven't tried to contact her?" Lisa pressed, her suspicion palpable.
"And what could I say?" I blinked and moisture spilled down my cheeks. In vain, I tried to banish the tears with a swipe of my hand. "Hello, Rosé. I'm… I have vampire cancer?"
It all had the makings of some sordid, morbid drama my mother would read when she thought no one was looking. I had some self-respect.
Enough to realize when another subject change was in order.
"How could this happen?" I directed the question her way, expecting a clear, succinct answer.
It's a tumor, Jennie, honestly.
Anything but, "I don't know."
"Sorry?" I blinked, convinced I'd heard her wrong. I even patted my ears in case they'd become clogged.
"You heard me." Her gaze shot to mine and nothing had ever terrified me more than her expression. Not the nightmares. Not the hunger. The hue of her irises flickered a burnished silver and in them I saw the truth before she uttered it out loud. "I don't know."
A sound trickled out of me that might have been another laugh. It definitely wasn't a sob. I hadn't fallen that far. Not yet. More tears weren't what spilled out of my eyes to paint my cheeks. Just sweat.
"What do you mean, you don't know—"
"Eat." She nudged the side table, jarring it closer to me. The bowl of soup wobbled, precariously close to the edge. "I can hear your stomach growling from here."
"No." I shoved the bowl away. "I don't want the damn soup. I want answers—"
"I don't know!" Thunderous, her rich baritone rang out, stinging my ears in its wake. She had shouted. Was shouting. "You want answers? Well, so do I. Do you think this is a common occurrence? Well it isn't. Neither is a woman who willingly sells her soul and can't seem to stay out of danger no matter the risk—"
"Ma'am?" Footsteps raced down the hallway and a woman in a white uniform peeked out from behind the door. A nurse. "Is everything okay?"
I almost envied her. She felt something. Fear, most likely. My physical senses might have returned, but my emotional nerves lacked reception. I still felt…hollow, even as a vampire raged a few paces away.
"It's getting late," I began while lurching to my feet. The nurse rushed forward to assist, but Lisa beat her to it.
Her hand caught my arm reflexively, but I wrenched out of her reach, forced to grip the bed frame to steady myself.
"I'm fine," I insisted. "In fact, I should be leaving." I staggered for the door, pushing past her.
"Where are you going?"
"What does it matter?" I tossed back, limping over the threshold. "You can leave without a word, but I can't?"
It had to be late. The main lights were dimmed in the hall, leaving just a faint glow to see by. Up ahead, I spied an adjacent corridor that must have led to the central ward. Rather than head for it, I turned and advanced farther down the hallway. I needed silence. Darkness. Escape.
"I asked: Where are you going?"
Damn. A shiver racked my spine, instilled by the grit in the voice haunting me.
But I didn't give in. Left. Right. My feet moved dutifully, driving me forward even as my newfound strength began to wane again. Pride warred with basic human instinct. I needed to sit down. I needed—
"Stop." A pale hand slammed against the wall inches from my face and I had no choice but to stop. "I'm begging you. Begging that, for once in your life, you exercise caution." Though her tone was level, anger bubbled up beneath the surface of her polished persona. Like heat, I felt it sear my skin.
"So, now you care? Funny, considering that you left. Without a word. Without so much as a calling card. After you told me that the only reason you even bothered to tolerate me was to, and I quote, 'Get to the only Kim who mattered.'"
"Should I tell you where I was?" she shifted to face me, and I took an involuntary step back. She towered above, her features in shadow. "I was trying to save your life, yet again. A task it appears that I take far more seriously than you do."
I swallowed. Ah. "What a convincing lie."
"A lie…" her eyes widened and then narrowed into slits. Against the wall, her fingers flexed, and a hairline crack appeared in the plaster. "You think you have the right to pout like a petulant child? When it was your sister who—"
"My sister who what?"
She seemed to hesitate before confessing, "Your sister who signed a contract of her own."
"Oh?" My heart throbbed, suddenly heavy, and I turned away. "Don't tell me you've been with her all this time? How lucky for you. You managed to score not just one Kim sister, but both—"
"No."
I cringed. her tone was far too soft.
"I didn't force her into a contract, Jennie."
She let the silence linger, almost daring me to ask her to continue.
I didn't.
I couldn't.
So, her upper lip curled back from her teeth as she said, "She refused to let me near you—as you lay dying, I might add—unless I agreed to her terms."
Heat prickled up and down my spine as a burning sting stabbed at my eyes. "What terms?"
"I agreed to leave the city immediately," she said. "Cease all contact with you. If I refused, she would stand by and let us both watch you die."
"No." I blinked more rapidly, shaking my head. "You're lying."
She wasn't. We both knew it. Still, it helped somewhat to say as much. I could give Roseann the benefit of the doubt she never extended toward me. I could pretend she actually loved me.
As long as I ignored the truth.
"Do you think I wanted to tell you like this?" she countered. "Trust me when I say this, but I don't enjoy playing the role of your monster."
"So, why come back at all?" I bit back. My heart raced as rage overrode logic. She wasn't the only one with secrets to tell. "No, don't tell me. We both know the answer—for your contract. Is that it? You want it back?"
Of course. Her face would reveal as much. I smirked, ready to witness the truth in full view—her gaze widened, horrified. Her jaw clenched, made of stone.
She wasn't gloating.
"You knew," I deduced, closing my eyes in defiance of everything her shocked expression conveyed. Yes, she had to know. "You want it that badly? Fine. Just admit it now. I'll shove the damn thing down your throat if you do."
But she said nothing. No quip. No insult.
"I-If we are done here, I'll just be leaving," I stammered weakly. One step was as far as I made it before I found myself shoved against the wall.
Gently. Cool fingers gripped my shoulders, trembling with the restraint needed to keep from bruising—her expression contained no such care, however. Even the suit couldn't save her— became monster.
Rather than berate me, she reached into her jacket pocket. I hadn't noticed the bulge against her side before, which concealed something thin, made of silver. Two circular bits of metal capped off each end of it, and recognition hit me like a slap. Manacles.
"Are…are you insane?" I exhaled the question.
"I'm exasperated." She caught my wrists in her fist and casually tugged. Two involuntary steps brought me closer to her. In a low voice, she warned, "We can walk back to your room together. Or"—she hefted one end of the handcuff so that the metal caught the light—"I can drag you there."
I fought to keep my head held high, my chin jutting defiantly into the air. "You can't do this—"
In a blur of motion, she lunged. One sweep of her hand robbed me of balance, but before I could sway, I was in her arms. She surged forward, carrying me down the hall.
Heedless of any poor soul who might have been sleeping, I screamed. I kicked. I flailed.
"You can't do this!" I attempted to grab at the doorway as she turned into my room.
With little effort, she broke my grip and headed toward the bed. One shrug of her shoulders and I landed in an unceremonious heap over the crumpled blankets.
She snapped one of the cuffs onto my wrist while I was still stunned and secured it to the frame of the bed. I didn't even have a chance to resist. To fight. So I settled for lashing out like a child and kicked her.
If she felt the pain in her right knee, her face revealed nothing.
"You don't want to eat?" She echoed. "Fine." One swipe of her hand sent the tray of food crashing into the wall. Yellow broth slashed the white backdrop like paint and the cake went flying into a far corner. "You don't want to talk about this with some damn rationality, have it your way. Scream, Jennie. Fight. You'll just give me a reason to gag you."
Shock deflated me. I cringed against the headboard as she stormed toward the doorway. A nurse was already there, gaping in shock.
"Get Ms. Kim something to calm her down," Lisa ordered as she pushed past her. She spared one last searing glance in my direction and snarled, "She's a danger to herself."
With what seemed to be an apologetic frown, the woman nodded and rushed off. Oddly enough, when she returned sporting a syringe, I didn't resist, allowing her to pierce my vein with little fanfare.
Like a good captive, I lay there, one hand chained to the bed, the other resting somewhere over my heart. It was racing. Pounding. Surging.
From unease or rage?
Who the hell knew?
Eventually, the wave of medication kicked in. My pulse slowed and my eyelids became heavy. When sleep came for me, I surrendered to it.
She might have won this round, but she'd already lost another.
When one was locked within a game of wits against a vampire, I'd learned that there was only one way to break a stalemate.
Someone had to bleed.
And I was already wounded.
The drug wore off in slow, ebbing waves. When my thoughts finally seemed coherent again, I peeled my eyes open, expecting to find myself strapped to the bed. Instead, both hands moved freely.
That wasn't all. The beside tray had been righted, the mess cleared from the floor. Fresh food had replaced my ruined meal—another nondescript cup and a plate of bacon, eggs, and sausage. Draped over the foot of my bed was the black dress Jisoo had brought along with a pair of my sensible flats and a black coat, also mine.
Unease goaded my heart into racing, but I choked the fear back.
Instead, I ignored the food in favor of getting dressed. My body felt stiff, each movement awkward and slow. By the time I fastened the last button on my coat, someone had entered the room to join me.
She was wearing black, I saw when I finally gathered up the nerve to look. A black suit. A blacker tie. Her eyes glowed in harsh contrast, taking me in with one callous sweep. But she wasn't angry.
Even worse, she was unreadable.
"I suggest we change tack." She sat on a nearby chair and gestured toward the bed. "I'll open with a threat, since you seem inclined to play the role of prisoner. How much do you value your cat?"
"T-Tinkles?" Panic clenched my lungs, making each breath a struggle. "Where is he?"
"Safe," Lisa replied before I could assume the worst. "I will return him to you, of course. After we finish our discussion."
"Or?" Despite my feelings toward her, there were some lines even I had never envisioned her crossing. Then again, I'd never owned a piece of her soul before.
"Or I'll keep him," she warned. "We both know she won't mourn your company."
I bit my lip in anguish. In some ways, it was a far worse bluff than threatening her life. I would be the only one disenfranchised in this equation.
"What do you want?"
"I suggest we revert to our usual method of communication." She placed something onto the bedside table, beside the food: a rectangular, leather-bound book flipped open to a blank page. When my gaze returned to Lisa, she crossed her arms, transforming into her businessman persona. "We negotiate."
"Via a contract?" I backed away near the wall, keeping her in full view.
"Yes. I will apologize for last night if that's what you want."
"And what do you want?" I whispered.
She cocked her head and shrugged, smoothing her hands along the front of her suit. "I think it's best if you stay with me."
I didn't miss the marked shift in her tone. Cautious. As though I were a simpleton best communicated with via slow, careful wording.
"For your protection," she said. "You need proper medical care. I will make all the arrangements—"
"Don't pretend like you care," I warned. Her words still hurt, smarting on my psyche like invisible scratches. "Just cut to the chase and tell me what you really want."
Her eyes narrowed. "Should I come out and say it, then? I want my contract, of course."
Ah. It was a game of hide-and-seek I'd planned over two months ago. Back when bitterness had driven me to hide the leather book where no one would ever find it, or so the childish part of me had claimed.
Knowing Lisa, everything I had was probably in the gloved hands of one of her agents, being ruthlessly inspected as we spoke. Or she'd searched for it herself. Hell, maybe that was the reason her hair was slicked, damp in a way that eerily coincided with the rain lashing at the window beyond her.
But one obvious fact diminished my glee at the prospect.
"You didn't know I had it. Did you?" Suddenly drained, I crept forward and sat on the edge of the mattress, as far from her as possible.
"No." She glared through the window. "Raphael doesn't part with his trophies easily."
"So, what happens if I tell you? I wind up shackled to another bed? Or is this the part where you threaten me for real?" I squared my chin, fighting to sound brave. Even before I saw her jaw clench, I knew I'd failed.
"To kill you? How about we bargain instead, like I suggested? You want to stay at Kim Manor? Fine. You want to live in denial? Fine. As long as you remain under my protection, you can set whatever terms you wish."
"And as long as I return your contract," I added.
She nodded after a second's pause. "That as well."
I bit my lip. To relinquish the one morsel of power I held over her or not? Knowledge is king, my father used to say, during one of the rare moments when she wasn't heralding the importance of money. Never surrender it willingly.
"I'd like to know it's secure," Lisa insisted. "However, telling me its location won't invalidate your ownership."
I noted how reluctantly she added that last tidbit of information.
"Even if I tell you, it will change nothing," I felt compelled to say. "I still don't forgive you for insulting me—"
"And I don't expect you to. As for our agreement, shall we put it in writing?" she asked. "You agree to stay with me as well as reveal the location of my contract. In return, you set your own terms."
I attempted to meet her gaze and found no hostility in it. No real emotion, either. Just endless burnished silver. "Fine. I want… François gets to remain as my driver."
She raised an eyebrow as she reached for the pen. "François?"
"I hired him a few weeks ago. He's very…r-reliable," I stammered. Honestly, it was the principle of the matter.
François, though slightly hated, was still someone I'd hired on my own. Lisa could lock me away in a tower if she wanted, just as long as she let me keep what little of my life I'd managed to rebuild.
"Fine." She jotted down a line on a fresh page in the contract book. "What else?"
"And…" I swallowed hard, flexing my fingers against the mattress. "You apologize for what you said about me."
She raised an eyebrow. "If that is what you wish…"
"And," I added. "I want you to be honest with me. If I ask you something, anything, you tell me the truth. No secrets. No games. No lies."
"Agreed." With a stroke of her pen, she added another line. As she finished, her eyes cut to mine. "But I would like to second that request. You keep nothing from me. Nothing."
She held the pen out and shoved the book across the table.
I sighed, biting any more questions back. We were on a dangerous precipice, mere inches from falling off. Only God knew what waited down below, and I wasn't that inclined to find out for myself.
With a single stroke, I signed my name and watched her do the same.
And the sight alone shouldn't have imparted the most stability I'd felt since…
Well, since she'd left.
"So, what now?"
"Now?" she tucked the contract book into her pocket and stood. "You uphold your end—you come with me, no dramatics."
"And," I added with a sigh, "I show you where your contract is?"
She nodded. "Where is it?"
"Where else?" I countered. It was obvious in a sense—what imposing shelter would make for the perfect hiding place for a vampire's soul? "Home."