Page 21 of Sleepless Beauties
“Seven. She’s the newest. Her space is just to the right of yours.” Vuitton explains.
“Who’s to the left?”
“Aston.”
My lips curl, but I do my best to hide my disgust.
I can’t believe my sister had slept next to her tormentor day in and day out without murdering him herself.
I shake my head as I look at the final picture.
The moment I slip Acessa’s picture away. My hands tremble as the next man—no, monster—stares up at me.
A pair of eyes so hollow they’re depthless black holes beneath heavy pale wrinkles that hang loosely from his forehead is the most dominating trait. His hair is nothing more than a few white strands draping down from his bald head spotted with age. His teeth are rotting black, and two rotten fangs protrude out from his dry lips.
Pavel.
He’s the nearest thing to a walking corps as I’ve ever seen.
And suddenly what Prey said about vampires aging makes so much more sense. He’s ancient. He truly is.
I stiffly place the pictures face down on my nightstand and try to breathe out the uneasy feelings tangling tightly in my stomach.
I’m walking into a nightmare.
I should rest. I know they’ll all be up until the dawn, and I’ll be expected to do the same. But I’m too anxious and wired to sleep.
“You should practice some meditation or breathing exercises. Your heart is a bit faster than theirs, but right now it’s a slamming noise that is much too loud to belong to a vampire.”
I peek open an eye at the shifter.
“How do their hearts beat?”
In movies, their pulse is nonexistent.So how can I blend in if even Vuitton can hear every beat of my anxious heart?
“They still have a pulse, but it’s just different from a human’s or even my own. Mine always sounds like yours does right now. Shifter hearts speed nonstop, while vampire hearts maintain a slow rhythm. The nearest thing to death as I’ve ever heard. It’s just enough to keep them living, but more than enough to keep them from dying.”
I exhale the slowest sigh, and though I can’t immediately tell if my pulse is calming, Vuitton nods with a sweet smile at my attempt.
“You can do this,” he whispers like his encouragement is a secret he doesn’t want Prey or Louis to know about.
“Thanks.” I roll my head from side to side and try my best to release all the tension I’ve been carrying in my shoulders since these men stormed into my life.
“Come here,” he steps closer and I hesitate for only a moment before I sit up and lean into the one person who has been a friend to be during all of this madness.
Do I trust him? Ab-so-fucking-lutely not.
But he isn’t an enemy. I can tell that much at least. My sister took him in because she trusted him to protect her. That speaks to his character some.
I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust anyone in the supernatural world.
His big hands lift cautiously and I have to force myself not to shift beneath his touch as he wraps his warm palms around my shoulders, just under my neck.
And then he starts kneading.
I hold his gaze as he delicately works the stiffness from my muscles. His pace is slow and firm and it all feels oh so fucking good. A shaking breath slips from my lungs when his thumbs press just right and the smile that pulls at his lips is wide and alluring.
Charming.
