Page 63 of Bloody Kingdom

“Tell me about Ira,” she insists groggily. I took her two more times, taking everything from her until the beast inside of me finally got its fill. I’d tenderly cleaned her up before tucking her into my bed with me. It feels so right to have her in a space I swore I’d never fill. I’ve never shared a bed with anyone, but now I can’t imagine my pillows not smelling like her as I fall asleep. “How did you meet him?”

“He tried to pickpocket me when I was walking the streets one night.” I smile fondly at the memory. He was a scrappy little kid, his shirt two sizes too big, his pants too short for his lanky legs. “He was starving and looking for a way to survive. Little did he know he was trying to steal from a vampire who heard him coming from two blocks away. Instead of punishing him, I bought him a meal and started paying him to do odd jobs for me. Eventually, he became my driver for a short time, but it was too dangerous to have him out there with me. It was safer for him to just work here at the house, so he became the groundskeeper. His real job, though, was being my moral compass when I was lacking my own. He’s been my confidant in some capacity for sixty years.”

“A whole lifetime you’ve known him,” Quincey murmurs. “I can’t imagine how hard it is watching the people you care about age while you stay the same. It must be so hard to keep your secret.”

“I work in the shadows; very rarely do I broker business deals in person. This allows my face to remain a mystery to different connections. I’m able to stay in one place longer if I do that. New Orleans has been my home since I left London, I always find a way to come back. There’re plans put in place that ensure that.” I hesitate, not sure I should be telling her this, but decide she should know. “I’ve been training Duke to take over for me here, to become the face of the operation. My time here is almost up for this lifetime, I was planning on leaving after Ira passed.”

My mystery assailant has also put a hold on those plans. I’m not going anywhere until they’re taken care of.

She springs up, pulling the dark sheets to her naked body to cover herself. “What? You’re leaving New Orleans?”

“I’ll come back in a few decades when the people who know me have died,” I explain to her. “This is how it works, love. I can’t stay in the same place too long. It draws unwanted attention.”

Her fingers anxiously shove her long hair away from her face. “Where will you go? How soon after Ira dies will you leave” —she catches herself before she can finish the sentence—

“This house andDella. What about Della?” Quincey asks instead.

“I was thinking I’d go back to Europe, maybe France. It’s been a long time since I’ve lived in my home country.” I haven’t been there since I originally left it with Cecily. It never felt right to return home without her, but now I think it may be time. “Or New York is always an option, so many faces there, it’s easy to blend in.” She doesn’t smile at my attempt to lighten the mood, her brows remained furrowed, lips turned downward. “As for Della, she has family here she would never leave.” A schizophrenic son that refuses to take his medication, is her family. He prefers to live on the streets with the voices in his head as his only company.

I recently learned the reason she’d been running late that day and had sent Quincey in her place to the drop. She was coming from the jail where her son was being held.Again. Connor is an artist and the medication that keeps him stable destroys the creative part of his brain. He’s miserable when he’s not able to paint and Della knows this. She fought it for a long time but ultimately couldn’t force him to take medication that made him despondent.

“Europe,” she repeats. “You’ll go to Europe, fordecades? But what about us, what about what we have? Does that mean you’ll just leave without—”

I reach up, taking her stunning face in my hands, halting her words. “Please, let’s not worry about this right now. I haven’t finalized plans yet as there is still unfinished business I must put to bed before I can even think of leaving New Orleans.”

Big, powder blue eyes that I’m positive now own my soul look into mine. “Promise me you won’t just leave, Silas. Promise me we’ll work this out together and you won’t just make the decision for both of us.”

It’s a lie but I say it anyway because making her happy has become a priority in my life. “I promise.” I pull her back down so she’s resting on my chest once more. “Close your eyes,mon soleil. Sleep with me at least until the sun comes up.”

I don’t want to leave her any more than she wants to be left. The void where my heart once sat aches at the thought of it.

She is, without a doubt, making me fall in love with her and I’m afraid it may be the end of us both. My arms hold her as tight as her human body can withstand as she falls asleep on my chest, every fiber in my being telling me not to let her go.

She prefersto sit on the counter instead of the perfectly good kitchen table. It’s not the proper thing to do, but I’ve found I quite like her at this height. Means I don’t have to lean down to kiss her.

Her lips taste of the strawberries she’s been snacking on while she watches me cook her dinner.

After spending the whole day away from each other, the bright sun in the sky keeping us apart, I woke up to find her pacing the length of her bedroom like a caged animal. Her shoulders were tight, her teeth nibbled anxiously on her bottom lip as she moved. The second Quincey’s eyes landed on me in the doorway, the tension left her body and she launched herself at me with a smile that could break the hearts of many. She’d declared our opposite schedules weren’t going to work for her too much longer, and I couldn’t agree more.

She’s not sleeping as much as she should, the dark circles under her eyes are evidence of that. Despite the exhaustion she feels, she smiles happily at me from her spot on the counter. I have things I need to attend to, pressing matters that require my attention, Rory has information she needs me to come to her office to see, but my need to spend a few fleeting moments with Quincey is stronger than my sense of duty right now. She’ll be fast asleep by the time I get home later tonight.

“This ‘hobby’ of yours is absolutely hilarious to me now,” Quincey chuckles after taking another bite of fruit. “A vampire who enjoys cooking food he can’t eat. It’s like a vegan who only makes steak. Why torture yourself?”

“I enjoy the process of cooking. I can get lost in it and forget for a second about the demons that wait for me in the streets.” Many of them are demons of my own creation, but that doesn’t make the burden of them any less. I chose this career, I knew what I was doing when I was building my empire, but some days I wish I could go back and just do something simple. I say this but know that the boredom of a monotonous job would eat me alive. “Besides, this food,” I stir the sauce in the pan, “it doesn’t appeal to me anymore. My body doesn’t crave it like it does blood.” Putting the lid back on the pot, I move to stand between her thighs. “Though I don’t think I’ll ever crave anything more than I crave your blood, love.”

She licks the sticky fruit residue off her fingers, smirking at me. “Hey, I offered. You’re the one who turned me down, remember?” Quincey pushes her bottom lip out dramatically.

Pushing her thick hair off her shoulder, I run my thumbs along the pulse point in her neck. “You’re really sitting before me pouting like a child because I won’t bite you? There you go, crossing the line between brave and foolish again.”

“I don’t think it’s foolish.” Her arms loop around my neck, pulling me close to her. “I have something you need, and I’m freely offering it to you.”

“You’re freely offering to let me accidentally kill you, Quincey.” I wish she would realize this. Last night when she cut her finger on my fang, my beast raged inside of me, banging against the steel doors I keep him behind. I’ve never seen something as beautiful as Quincey painted in her own blood. “Why do you want me to hurt you?”

“That’s the thing, Silas. I don’t think you’ll hurt me.” An immeasurable amount of trust sits in those blue eyes as they stare up at me.

I trace the lines of her face tenderly, memorizing each of the freckles that sit on her sun-kissed skin. No longer wanting to discuss this, I change the subject. “I want to take you out.” Precautions will need to be made and I’ll need to be smart about it, but I want to spend time with her outside of the house.

Her brows pinch in confusion. “Take me out... like a hitman? Or adate?” she clarifies painfully slow. “If literallyanyoneelse on this planet said that to me, I would automatically just assume they meant date, but with you, I really feel like it could go either way. So, I just need to be sure—”

---