IAN ISN’T THERE WHEN I wake in the morning.
Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. He’s always doing stuff when he should be sleeping. I’m sure he had something to take care of. And he does have work today. He’s doing a double shift.
So, with him out of the way, I spend the day planning my future. Because once again, I’ve just been waiting for the House to take control. It’s time I take matters into my own hands.
At ten o’clock, after the sun has gone down, I walk down to the garage. There’s a row of hooks that hold the keys. I grab the ones for the Jeep, because it’s the least intimidating of all the vehicles.
The engine growls to life, and I carefully back out of the garage. With every day I spend here, I’m feeling more like things are mine. Like it’s okay to touch and use them. I’ve been here for exactly a month now. I don’t get lost in the house anymore. I know where things are. I’ve made a mess in my room, walked through the house naked. I’m feeling at home. This is the house my father lived in and where I should have grown up. The Conrath house feels like it was where I was supposed to end up all along.
The night is quiet and incredibly dark with the moon nothing more than a tiny sliver. I turn onto Main Street, drive a quarter of a mile, and take a left at the bakery. The road stretches on, through the swamp. And then there’s the decaying, half-ruined House. I park right in front of the steps and climb out.
I knock on the front door three times and wait. I’m nervous, that’s without question. But it’s time I grow a backbone.
One of the Bitten I remember from my last visit opens the door. For a second, black veins surface on his face and his eyes brighten to a glowing yellow.
“I want to speak with Jasmine,” I say, sounding confident, despite the immediate threat. I shove my way past him, pulling a stake from my purse.
He gives a small hiss when he sees it, but takes a step back. He’s recognized me now, and I have no doubt he knows what it would mean if he kills me.
“Wait here,” he says with disdain in his voice.
My palms are slick with sweat and my heart is racing. I slip the stake back into my purse. I stand there waiting, listening to the sounds of the House. Cameron and Trinity sound like they’re playing a game somewhere. There’s this metal singing sound I can’t identify. And then there’s a small scream somewhere upstairs, followed by a wet ripping sound.
Now I know where Markov is.
Movement to my right catches my eye.
The door to the library is cracked, and just inside I can see Christian. His fangs are deeply sunk into a woman’s neck. Veins sprout out onto Christian’s face, his eyes glowing. He takes one more pull and releases her. With control and careful movements, he lowers her to the ground.
The breath must catch in my throat because suddenly he looks up.
A smile crosses his face and he wipes a thumb at the blood under his lower lip and sucks it clean.
“Don’t worry,” he says as he walks out into the foyer. “She’ll wake up in about an hour. The House had need for another Bitten.”
“Oh,” is all I manage.
He gives me another one of his smiles and starts up the stairs.
“Alivia.” I look up as Jasmine rounds the corner. She has a pleasantly surprised smile on her face. “I wasn’t expecting you this evening.” But there’s that annoyance hidden in her voice that says she didn’t summon me, so why am I here?
“I know,” I say, taking a quick, deep breath. I tell myself that I am technically a Born Royal and this is my House. I am ruler over her. “I wanted to discuss some terms with you.”
“Terms,” she repeats, a wary expression in her eyes.
Micah rounds the corner, and he stares me down coldly with his arms folded across his rather defined chest. And then comes Lillian, who doesn’t look annoyed to see me.
“What kind of terms?” Jasmine continues.
“The terms of me claiming this House,” I say.
All three of them grow silent and serious. Jasmine is thrown off, angry, surprised, maybe a little bit relieved. I’ve turned the tables on her, invading her life and imposing my wishes on her, and she doesn’t know how to take my assertion.
“Let’s talk,” she finally responds. She extends her hand out toward the library.
I walk through the doors, and I’m shocked to see that everything looks back to normal. Maybe even better than it was before. The windows seem to have been replaced, covered once again. The bookshelves are repaired. There’s no pool of blood on the floor. Only one stain on Jasmine’s chair.
I’m tempted to sit in it, just to piss her off, but then I remember what she is, and I don’t really want to die and resurrect tonight.
I choose to stand instead.
Jasmine sits in her chair. Micah sits beside her. Lillian sits on the couch and folds her hands elegantly over her lap.
“I know how badly you want the respect of the Royals again,” I start. “If you claim me, you won’t be shamed anymore. I can only imagine how hard it has been keeping the House afloat without any support.” I play to Jasmine’s sympathies. I need her to agree to my terms if I want to stay in control of my life. “But I also understand what may happen if the King comes.”
I meet each of their eyes. Lillian seems understanding and nods as I speak. I decide I might like her. If I ever tried to gain an ally here in this House, she might be it. Micah just looks at me with disdain. We will never be on good terms.
“I will help you,” I say, turning back to Jasmine, who watches me with impassive eyes. “I will claim the House, and I will help you get the respect you need back. By doing this, I know that the King will try and probably succeed in killing me. I’ll resurrect and become a Born. But you have to wait a little while.”
“How long?” Jasmine asks. “I’ve lead this shamed House for fifteen years.”
“Just until January first,” I say, letting it out in a breath. Because after that day, I’m surrendering my life as a human. “That’s my twenty-third birthday. And if I’m going to stop aging, that seems a good one to be frozen at.”
“What’s wrong with being well seasoned?”
I turn to see Markov walk into the library. His face is covered in blood, it drips down onto his white, button up shirt. He dabs at himself with a handkerchief.
“Nothing,” I squeak. “But I don’t think you all want to wait until I’m an old woman.”
“No,” Jasmine says. “January first is just over three and a half months away. That’s long enough.”
“It gives us both time to prepare,” I say. “You make whatever preparations you think will be helpful in protecting yourselves against the King. I get to say goodbye to being everything that makes me, me.”
I look over at Lillian. She stares at the floor, and her eyes are haunted. I realize something then. Lillian resents being a vampire. She didn’t ask for this. And I wonder if she got a nasty surprise when she woke up inside a grave. Not all Born can know what they are before they die.
“And what would you like in the meantime?” Jasmine asks with weight and hesitance in her voice.
I look back at her. “Nothing,” I reply simply. “I will claim the House for you. We will say it’s mine. But I don’t want anything to do with it. My father didn’t feel the need to be involved and neither do I. I won’t forsake you, but I don’t want your throne. And until my birthday, I just want to be left alone.”
“That’s fair,” Lillian says. “You should take her up on her offer.”
“You lack ambition, my child,” Markov says. I look over at him. He’s staring me down with that sly, scary smile of his. “You’ve been given the world on a silver platter, but you do not wish to partake.”
“I agree to your terms,” Jasmine quickly cuts him off. She doesn’t want anyone planting any seedling ideas of power in my head. “The House will leave you be until January first. In exchange, you will claim the House and leave me to continue doing what I’ve been for the last fifteen years.”
I step forward and extend a hand toward her. She stands, as well. Her eyes are cold and serious and she searches me. It’s not hard to tell she’s a woman who’s been betrayed and stabbed in the back, and she’s done the same to others. She’s evaluating if I’m the same kind of person.
She takes my hand and shakes it.
When she releases it, I turn and head for the doorway. I pause though, turning back. “How are Trinity and Christian?”
“They’re fine,” Lillian says. She stands, as well, and crosses toward me. “It was a rough couple of hours, but they’ve both fully recovered.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been worried about them.” I look at Jasmine when I say this. And she’s trying hard to cover the annoyance under her skin with a pleasant smile.
“Goodnight,” I say, smiling back at her. Without another word, I turn and walk back out the front door.
Jasmine may be a tri-polar queen with an iron fist, but I won’t be pushed around.