Page 57 of Skin Trade

“Inside? That doesn’t make any sense.” But it didn’t matter. Her problem was not what the city was dealing with, or the thirsty who scurried around. Her concern was her father. She clicked back at the top of the screen. Deleted out his name from the search bar, and then typed in, Joseph Matthews’ address.

It was a surprise when it did come up. Like she hadn’t been expecting it to be there. But she grabbed a pencil and paper from Seth’s desk and scribbled the address down. The address said her father worked somewhere in Long Bridge. It was vaguely familiar. Like a name she knew but couldn’t place. She was sure she could find it if needs be. It had to be the main town. If he was running for Mayor, or was Mayor now, that was where he had to live.

“Click here for directions,” it read. She did, and a map opened up, showing her where she was located and then drawing a thick blue line across the screen to where her father was.

A thirty-minute walk. That was it. That was how close she was.

She leant back in Seth’s chair, stared at the screen and thought about this. Seth said she could leave if she wanted to. She could walk out the door.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The little scrap of paper sat on the dressing table beside Payton as she brushed her wet hair. She checked the address, again, Checked she had written it down correctly, Checked she had drawn the map in a way she could understand and, that in the fifteen minutes it took her to shower, she hadn’t somehow managed to erase it from her mind. Like that was going to happen, but still.

She tapped the paper, nodded to herself and went back to her hair. She needed this. Just to go there, to find her father, to somehow walk out of this life she’d never belonged in the first place. Like Seth said, she could save herself. This was doing just that.

After brushing out her hair, she added a little make-up to her face. Not that she needed it, but it felt good, it felt great to be in her own skin. Maybe that wasn’t the make-up so much, but the green drink Sky had given her. Despite its foul odour, and definitely non-appealing look, she’d drunk it. Most of it anyway. Until her body had told her, you take another sip and that shit is coming right back up. She had to admit; it had made her feel good.

The wound on her wrist was healing nicely. It wasn’t angry red like the ones she’d get in Creven’s place. Not that he drank from her so much, he hated the taste of her. Drank only from her occasionally. Sometimes she’d wondered why he even bothered at all if she was clearly as repulsive as he made out. Just too old for his liking.

But this wound was different—two small puncture wounds, not sore. They were numb in a weird way. She traced a finger along the edges, travelled along where Seth’s mouth had touched her skin. She flushed at the memory of it, at what it had led to, at the way he had touched her in so many other ways.

It was probably the only thing stopping her from putting on her shoes and walking right out of the building to this address of her father’s. But he had other women. He’d probably not even notice she was gone. There’d be a room up here, ready for the next woman he wanted to pluck off the carousel in the auctions. Because that was all she was to him, a purchase. More than likely, so were all the others. A man built into a world full of people who were mostly there because of his wallet and not because of him. What a sad way to live that was, especially for someone with immortality.

Pulling her hair back, she braided it, keeping it out of her way if she needed to make a run for it. But if she was going to leave, now would be the best time. The thirsty would be held back in their corners. Except, Seth could come after her. He could walk outside. She knew he had said she could leave anytime she wanted, and she believed him, but would he let her leave fully? Would he let her go and leave her, so she didn’t have to come back?

Her father could pay him the money back, or she could. She could work with her father like it was always planned, and she could owe Seth. It was only fair she paid it to him, too. He had paid for her freedom, for her escape.

She grabbed a jacket from inside the closet. The damn thing seemed to fill with more clothes and items every time she went in it. She’d been given a new pair of pumps, black with white lines along the edges, a logo on the side she didn’t recognise. Labels were her mother’s thing, her pride. If it didn’t have a label and cost too much, then she wasn’t having it.

She could go down and see Seth.

“For God’s sake,” she stood, frozen in the middle of her room. She needed to just leave. She needed to go out of her room, get the lift and then walk out the bloody front door, but her feet were encased in iron, in chains that pulled her. They attached her somehow to the man downstairs in the office.

“He doesn’t care. He doesn’t.” Other women, Sky had said. She needed to keep that in her head to help keep her clear and not think about the way he had looked at her or the concern in his expression.

It would be like a blow of air through her cloudy thoughts. Maybe she could tell him. That would be the decent thing to do, right? Go down, let him know she was leaving, thank him for his hospitality and wish him well and show him she could save herself and she was doing just that?

The way he had looked at her, the way he had touched her … the way she had touched him. She wrapped her arms around herself and wanted to bend over and scream. Just scream so she could get this all out of her system. But instead, she grabbed the paper, stuffed it into the front pocket of her jeans and headed into Seth’s room.

But walking in there meant she cloaked herself in everything that was Seth. More than she had done the first time she had been led through this room, because now it was different. Now she had been in here, with him. “Damn you, Seth.”

It had to be the blood. She’d heard of blood lust for vampires, maybe it worked the other way. Vampires got that lust in their eyes for the blood of their slaves, maybe the slave got lust for the willingness to give themselves over. She could tell herself that, but it wasn’t stopping the ache in her chest, or the way her body trembled as she stood in his room.

“It doesn’t matter, though.” He’s vampire, she’s human. Their lives were nothing alike and never would be. She could have convinced herself a ton of things, but at the end of everything, it would come down to who and what they were, and that made anything she felt for him impossible and probably fake.

She patted her pocket where the paper was. This had been her dream all these years, find her father, get her life back and forget about all the vampires. No, the forget part was a lie. She would make it her mission to help others like her. But every step she took across Seth’s bedroom felt like betrayal. It felt heavy against the solid wood floor. She had to force herself to keep going, keep moving, until she reached the door that led to the corridor. Once she reached there, she hurried herself. Like unsnarling herself from the strap that was Seth’s room. Now, she just had to get out of the building.

She didn’t glance at the painting of the girl this time. Didn’t want to see that, if this was his daughter, it meant he was a man who had loved once. A man who was more than the surface she had seen. If she closed her eyes to it, she could keep him in this unfeeling place where he belonged, because really, it didn’t matter what he was, or who he had been, he wasn’t that man anymore and it would serve her well to remember that.

The lift pinged on the first floor and opened, letting in the scent of cleaning products. The way hotel corridors seemed to have that smell, like someone had mixed coffee with lemon disinfectant and spread it around the place with the smells of starched sheets and towels.

Voices, loud voices. They came at Payton before she even rounded the corner to where his office was. They were so loud, she expected to walk around and see two men arguing in the corridor, but when she got there, it was empty. The voices came from Seth’s office. The door wasn’t closed properly.

Payton pressed herself against the wall, making herself flat. Seth was standing beside his desk. His jacket was off, but he had on his waistcoat and tie still. His hair was ruffled, like he’d run his hands through it, making part of it flop forward in a strand across his forehead.

She bit her lip as if that might calm her down and stop the sound of her blood rushing around her ears.

“I told Alex; it is not time yet.” Seth said.

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