Page 3 of Born Chaos

I haven’t missed this. Slowly, I’m trying to live life on my own terms again. It’s a quiet morning in the city. It’s a Sunday, and the weather is still horrendous. Where the streets and sidewalk were slush last night, they’re ice now. We slide around one corner and slip through a streetlight. Thankfully the intersection is empty. I breathe a sigh of tense relief when we finally pull up to Godfrey Tower.

It’s almost like stepping back through time when I walk through the main doors. Once upon a time, this was my home, however short it lasted. I’m genuinely happy to see Poe as I walk by the main desk, and he practically has a heart attack when he spots the ring on my finger. I spend an entire ten minutes in the lobby telling him all about it.

He gives me a temporary badge to get up to the penthouse level. When I moved out months ago, I left my badge, trying to give closure to that chapter of my life. But here I am again, swiping the badge at the elevator and rising sixty-two floors.

And it all comes rushing back when the elevator opens, and I see straight through the building to the massive windows that look out over the city.

I ignored who I was in this building. I put my life on pause here. I buried my head in the sand.

I had an entirely new existence to get used to then. My immortal lifetime as a vampire was just beginning, and the world as I knew it had just been dumped on its head.

I’m so damn glad that part is over.

It’s too quiet as I cross the marble floor to Elena’s door. All this space and it’s only occupied by two people. Twins with twin penthouses, richer than nearly anyone else in this city. I grab the doorknob and push it open.

“Elena?” I call into the dead silent penthouse that’s dripping black and gold.

“In here,” she calls from the depths. “I need your opinion. Quick.”

I smirk, because I know there is no true emergency to be “quick” over. But still, with barely any effort at all, I’m at the entryway one second and in Elena’s massive closet the next.

She’s standing in the middle of it, wearing nothing but a white matching pair of panties and bra. Hanging on the rack in front of her are four identical dresses in different colors.

“Which color makes me look more intimidating?” she asks without looking at me. Her gaze is laser-focused on the task at hand.

“Well, the green certainly screams money,” I say as I fold my arms over my chest. “The purple makes you look royal. The gray is all business. The black is sexy.”

“You’re so not helpful,” she says flatly.

I chuckle. “The green. I assume this is for some important meeting?”

“It is,” she confirms.

“Green makes you seem confident when it comes to money. I think that one.”

She makes a simple nod and pulls it off the hanger. She steps into it and turns her back to me to help her zip it up. I catch the label and shake my head in disbelief. Each of these dresses had to cost well over a thousand dollars, and Elena got one in four different colors because she couldn’t make up her mind.

“I think you’re right,” she says as she admires her figure in the full-length, ornate golden mirror on the wall. “Green is my color.”

“Maybe you better ask my advice more often,” I tease with a cocked eyebrow.

My best friend looks over at me with a smirk, her eyes trailing up and down the length of me. I’m wearing a simple pair of jeans and a plain black long-sleeved t-shirt. I’m about as basic as it gets right now. Without a word given to that, she pulls her hair to the side for me to unzip her.

“Anyone die last night?” she asks casually. She steps out of her dress, hangs it, and searches for something else to wear.

“Not on my watch,” I say, always proud when I can answer this way. “Though, I swear, the ice on the roads is more deadly than all of the stabbings.”

“In this city?” she questions. She comes away with a white bodysuit and a pair of black leather pants, which she wiggles up over her tiny frame.

“Believe it or not,” I answer as I follow her out of the closet. We walk through her way-over-the-top bedroom and then out into the kitchen. Elena goes straight for the fridge and takes out two blood bags. She hands one to me and then leans against the counter.

“Good night, do you know how long it’s been since I had anything fresh?” she says as she sneers at the cold liquid. “I’m going to snap if it goes on much longer. Maybe we should go to Roman Nights tonight? Think you’d get in too much trouble for slurping down a delicious, willing donor?”

I feel my face flush red. I knew it was coming, and the perfect opportunity has just presented itself. “Yeah, I think that might not go over so well.” I hold up my left hand, putting my engagement ring on full display.

“Holy shit!” Elena gasps, dribbling blood down her chin, onto her perfectly white bodysuit, forever ruining it. She sets the bag on the counter, which instantly starts leaking all over. But she snatches up my hand so fast, it’s nearly impossible to see the movement. “He really proposed?”

“Pretty sure that’s what this thing indicates,” I say with a nervous laugh.

---