Page 122 of Red Masquerade

His eyes were haunted as he sat deep in thought, no doubt running through their conversation over and over again.

The suds of the water lined my chin. “What did he want?” I asked again.

With a glance, I saw he wanted anything but to tell me, to have to expose whatever trouble he was in. I sat up, water sluicing off my chest, goosebumps pebbling my skin. There was so much I didn’t know, so much being hidden from me, and I was tired of it. “Don’t do that.”

His brow twitched upward.

“I can handle whatever it is.”

In a few short weeks, I had found out my lover was not dead, even though I’d wasted six years believing so, six yearsdrinking, kissing men I didn’t care about. I’d run away from Lucas and his iron fist, from Mother’s expectations, from Wright Highsmith and his English money. I was making peace with the fact that there were monsters walking amongst us, blood-sucking creatures, and that Vince was one of them, that I wasin lovewith him.

My fear was shrinking the bigger the world seemed to grow. But it was still there, holding onto my heart, tight.

He studied me, scanning my face. “He frightened you.”

“I just—wasn’t expecting that.” I reached for his hand, dripping water on the tile.

He needed to know I wanted to help; he needed to know that I was there for him, that we were together in this. I had not accepted him, accepted this strange new world, just to let him take it all on on his own.

“I will kill him,” he repeated, anger curling his lip. “The fact that he knows of your existence has damned him. Half the vampires that walk in these halls don’t deserve to look upon you.”

I squeezed his fingers, bringing him back to me. “He didn’t come just to antagonize you,” I said.

“That’s all he wants, is to antagonize me.”

“Why?” I whispered.

I touched his cheek.I accept all the dark parts of you.

He took another breath, coming to some conclusion within himself, and covered my hand with his. A look of annoyance. “He is the heir of our Sire, and it has gone to his head.”

“Your Sire has an heir?”

I was realizing just how much I still had yet to learn.

Vince nodded, then bit his lip, holding back once again, before he shut his eyes. I swore I felt him press against my hand even harder, as though to cement my touch upon his face. To prove to himself I was there.

“When I was Made, the Sire’s entire coven was decimated by the war. Many had wanted to join the fight for their land, as they saw it, to protect what was theirs. And many died, in the firefight, or in suffocating under dirt, or by gas. So the Sire made me.” He peeked up at me through his lashes. “I was the first, Made to replenish his coven. He must have seen something, to—to ‘save’ a young man dying.”

The Sire… Vince’s creator. And Marcel was second?

If Vince was first, did that mean—

He swallowed, saying aloud what I was beginning to suspect. “I was Made so that, should he die, one day, I would rule over the den.” He let go of my hand, letting it slide back into the water. He reached for my face instead, brushing a wave behind my ear. “I was gone so long, because I was not allowed to leave.”

Anger burst forth, blooming in my chest. “And now Marcel is the heir.”

And I had dined with him.

He nodded once again, his features hardening. “And now they know about you. About why I ran.”

“Is it so bad?” I asked, moving to sit on my knees in the bath. I was face-to-face with him, my water dripping onto his clothes, my bare body reacting to the cool air. “That you left?”

His hands found my waist. “It is a crime to run,” he said. “My leaving was against his wishes. If he finds me, he can do whatever he wants to me.”

I should have expected it. Knowing what I did about how Vince operated here—Making vampires, ruling over them, taking over. It was as though to be Made placed a permanent leash—a noose—around your neck, and the person with the ability to tighten that leash, to pull until air was blocked off, was the Sire.

But maybe not when an ocean separated you.