Page 7 of A Song in the Night

“Get started with what?” I ask, a flare of annoyance overpowering any attraction I’d been feeling. I walk over to the stack of folders Sylvia had wanted me to file.

“Learning self-defense,” Noah says as if we’ve already discussed it. I glance at him just as he drains the rest of the coffee, smacks his lips, and places the empty cup in the sink. Then, making me jump, he crosses the space in a blur of motion. I almost drop the file I’m holding.

Strands of my hair lift in a soft gust of air. We’re once again standing so close that Noah Forrest is all I can see, smell, and hear. I cross my arms, still clutching a folder in one hand, and fight the urge to step back and put distance between us—he’d see it and know instantly what kind of effect he has on me. “Oh?”

Noah hears the challenge in my voice and cocks his head. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind learning how to fight, but the fact that he’s making it an order sends a bolt of rebellion through me.

“You’re not in a position to protect yourself,” he says. “You know, against all of the many people who want to kill you.”

“Careful, it almost sounds like you’re worried about me,” I remark.Stop fishing. It’s pathetic, a small voice says at the back of my head. Why is it that, whenever I’m around Noah, it feels as if I become someone else? Someone without control or any sense of self-preservation?

I regret my comment even more when Noah says, “Call it concern over an asset. I don’t need to remind you what Sylvia paid to get you off that auction block before some sick son of a—”

“Yeah, I get it, Noah,” I snap, cutting him off.Asset. The word makes me feel hollow. It’s an unnecessary reminder of how far I’ve fallen these past few weeks. I move around Noah, finally putting that much-needed space between us, and he turns to keep me in his line of sight. I face him and will myself to be numb. “What exactly is Sylvia’s plan to ensure her money isn’t wasted? Besides basic labor?”

Noah’s grin is downright wicked. “Lessons with yours truly.”

I struggle to hide my dismay. I can imagine it already—Noah putting his hands on me, his scent all around me. He would sense my arousal in seconds, and then I’d never hear the end of it. Even the thought of it sends heat rushing to my cheeks.

Walking past Noah a third time, I pretend to be absorbed in reading the file in my hand. If he asks about its contents, though, I won’t be able to tell him a thing. “You know, I think I’d rather take my chances, but thanks,” is all I say.

I feel his eyes on me as I kneel. Assuming the files are organized by last name, I find the correct drawer and open it. I skim my fingers over the tops of the folders to find the right letter. Noah’s voice floats to me from behind. “It’s not a suggestion, baby vampire. You’ll participate whether you like it or not.”

At this, I twist around to look at him, and I feel my own eyes narrow. “Or what?”

“Come on. You don’t really want me to answer that.” The words might be condescending, but there’s something in his voice that hints he’d welcome another challenge.

That rebellion is still sizzling in my veins, my bones. Along with something else—a sensation that goes lower and hotter. “Humor me,” I say.

I’m anticipating him to move again. To pin me against the file cabinet or the floor. Instead, Noah swings around and goes back to his desk. I try to deny the disappointment that sinks my stomach.

“You want to be uncooperative? Fine. That’s your choice,” the vampire says over his shoulder. His hair gleams from the desk lamp. “But until you learn how to protect yourself, you’re not leaving this office.”

Something in his expression makes me believe him. My resolve wavers. “I’ll have to feed sometime,” I inform him.

“I’ll bring you blood bags, then.” On the verge of sitting down, he pauses with one hand splayed on the desk and raises his dark brows. “Want to change your mind? My offer to start today expires in five, four, three, two—”

“Fine,” I say through my teeth, every trace of worry vanishing. Right now, Noah Forrest is the last person I want.

For the first time, I realize what it means that Sylvia and Noah own me. Legally, they truly can keep me in this room if they want. I’m reminded yet again of my own helplessness. My own painful lack of power and significance.

Maybe what Noah is offering can change that. Or one small piece of it, at least.

Thankfully, he doesn’t gloat at his triumph. He just inclines his head toward the backpack and remarks, “You’ll probably want to change.”

“You can’t get sweaty right now. We have a consultation in an hour,” Sylvia announces, coming through the door just as Noah finishes speaking. It’s almost dizzying, how often they come and go. It makes sense, I suppose—their work involves speaking to informants, questioning people, investigating places and possibilities. But I can’t help wondering if they don’t trust me, and that’s why neither of them will take a phone call while I’m in the room.

Noah smirks. “I doubt I’ll be working up a sweat. Besides, an hour gives the princess plenty of time to shower off when we’re done.”

My mind flashes back to the appointments I’d seen in Sylvia’s leather book.

“Actually,” I start at the same moment there’s a knock at the door.It’s right now, I finish silently. Sylvia’s boots make the room shudder. She pulls the door open, revealing a water nymph in the hallway.

Although nymphs are not immortal like vampires, they are long-lived. It’s impossible to discern this one’s age, since she doesn’t have the wrinkles of a matron, the ancient ones of their kind. Her skin is smooth and tinted green, but I’ve seen others whose skin is blue. It seems to depend upon what body of water they live in during their formative years.

There’s something about this one that makes me think of a weeping willow. Maybe it’s the way she stands, or the sad cast to her face, or her long hair. She fixes her pale eyes on Sylvia first, then takes note of me and Noah, her expression fathomless.

“Greetings,” she says. Her voice is soft and fluid, like weeds caught in a current. “I am Ratha.”

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