“DON’T TAKE OFFENSE BECAUSE I genuinely want to know,” I say to Rath as we eat dinner on the veranda. The cook has outdone herself today, and the girl who serves us won’t look me in the eye, as usual. “But what do you do all day?”
Rath looks up at me, and I can’t read his eyes because he’s wearing sunglasses, which only makes me wonder about his species all the more. “I manage the affairs of the Estate.”
“Yes, I know,” I say in exasperation. “But what does that mean?”
Rath sets his wine glass back on the table. I’ve notice that he drinks one glass with dinner every night. Never more, never less. “I manage the crew that takes care of the grounds. I order supplies. I handle the financials involved with the Estate. That occupies most of my time.”
I take a sip of my sweet tea, something I’m coming to like. “Henry should have left the Estate to you, not me. You deserve it. It’s easy to see you love this place.”
“I do love it,” Rath says as he leans back in his chair and overlooks the grounds. “But my devotion has always been to the Conrath family. I don’t need money or the esteem. I am here for you, Alivia.”
I observe Rath for a moment. His expression is sad, regretful. “You miss Henry, don’t you?”
Rath doesn’t look back at me when he says, “I do.”
“You more than just worked for my father,” I say as I pick up a roll and pick at it. It’s dry. Mine are better. “You two were best friends.”
Rath sits back up and begins cutting his steak again. “Bonds run deep when loyalty is proven in both directions over and over again. When you’ve been through trials of fire and still stand by one another’s side. Your father was my brother.”
It’s hard for me to imagine such loyalty and love. And not the romantic kind of love because I don’t think that’s what this is for one second. Which is what makes it so strange. I never knew Henry, never saw him with Rath. But I can see what Henry’s death has done to Rath, it’s there in his face, in his very countenance, every day.
“Thank you for being here for me,” I say, reaching out across the table and resting my hand on Rath’s wrist. “I know we don’t know each other well, but it’s comforting to have you here. Like…there’s still a small part of my father that’s lived on through you. It’s far better than having nothing. And thank you for your loyalty. That isn’t lost on me.”
Rath looks up at me and with his free hand, removes his sunglasses. His eyes are so dark that I can’t tell iris from pupil. “You are always welcome. And my loyalty will always lie with your family, even after you resurrect.”
In three and a half months. I should tell him that. But somehow it feels like a defeat.
We finish our meal in silence, but it’s comfortable. A new bond has formed between us. Not many words were spoken, but the meaning runs deep.
Just as Angelica has come to clear our plates, there’s a knock on the glass window behind me. I turn to see Ian’s eyes searching the property behind us.
“Excuse me,” I say to Rath, who simply goes stony-faced and nods.
I walk back into the ballroom and find myself looking over my shoulders, checking for Bitten spying on us from the shadows of the trees.
“I parked off the main road and walked in,” Ian says quietly for some reason. “Why is your driveway so damn long?”
I laugh and slip my fingers through Ian’s. “Don’t blame me, that was all Henry.”
Without thinking about it, I lead us upstairs because the staff is still going about their duties on the main floor. They all usually wrap up around seven, and it’s just past six-thirty.
We slip into my bedroom and close the door behind us. And the second it is, Ian wraps his hands around my waist and brings my lips to his.
“I’ve missed you,” he growls into my mouth.
“It’s only been a week and a half,” I tease him. He backs us into a wall and that sends an explosion of sparks shooting through my body. My hands snake under his shirt, tracing over his muscular back.
“A veritable eternity,” he breathes as he lets me slip his shirt off over his head.
“You shouldn’t go getting ideas in your head about this,” I say as our lips reconnect. “I just really need some of…this.” I run my hands up over his abs, over his very defined chest muscles.
“It’s all yours,” he says with a smile against my lips.
Ian hoists me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. Like I weigh nothing at all, he turns and crosses the room to the bed. He topples us onto it.
“It really has been a long ten days,” Ian says as he runs a hand along my cheek and looks down at me. “I couldn’t get away from work and Lula was in a bad way for a few days.”
“It’s okay,” I say, absentmindedly tracing a finger up and down the valley between his abs. “I’ve been busy, too.”
“I can’t believe you went and got a job at Fred’s,” he says with a chuckle.
I smile back, because working in the bakery is the most natural thing in the world for me, but then I also come home to this house every afternoon. “Well, I’ve not just been busy with work. I went to see Jasmine last week.”
Ian’s face turns a shade whiter and his expression falls. “What?”
I swallow hard. I’m an adult, I don’t have to justify anything. This is my decision. But I do know how Ian feels about me mingling with the House members.
“I wasn’t just going to wait around again for the House to decide what to do with me,” I start. Ian rolls onto his side and we lie there facing each other. “I made a deal with her.”
“A deal with the House is never good,” he says, barely suppressing a hiss.
“Hear me out, please,” I ask softly.
Ian looks away from me for a moment. His jaw is tight and he looks a bit like he wants to hit something. There’s rage and fight and darkness in Ian. So much of it. But most of the times he looks at me, I see something different. Something softer.
With great effort, he takes a second, calms himself down, and looks back at me. “Okay.”
I tell him everything. How I agreed to claim the House, but not until after my birthday. How I didn’t let Jasmine manipulate me into anything. How I thought Lillian might be an ally if I needed one. How Markov brought everything I was giving up to my attention.
“It’s damn scary that you walked right back into that House,” Ian says. His eyes are open, receptive—not angry. “But it sounds like you know what you’re doing. Maybe like you’re even supposed to be doing this. I’m glad you’re not getting involved, but I think you would have been a great House leader. And that, coming from me, says something.”
And this just brings to light everything that’s doomed about our relationship. That hurts, so much because every time I look at Ian, I see everything that makes me okay with this new life. I see hope and excitement. Acceptance.
“We have three and a half months,” I say quietly. “That’s all I could get us. But it’s ours. They promised to leave me alone.”
Ian rolls forward and kisses my lips and everything in me craves more. Which just brings fear into my heart. “You just have to promise me one thing,” I say as I push him away an inch or two.
“What?” he asks, unsure eyes searching mine.
“You have to promise not to fall in love with me.” And when I say it, I’m gravely serious.
Because it’s my greatest fear right now. More than being killed by a demented king. More than knowing I will resurrect. More than a future of craving blood. My greatest fear is what I’m feeling now and how much more of it I’ll be feeling the longer this goes on. And then to have that ripped away…
Ian doesn’t answer me right away. He studies me, and I know the self-reflection that’s going on in his head. It’s the same story for me. “That’s going to be a hard promise to keep, I’m afraid.”
“But you have to make it,” I say, feeling desperate. I place my hands on his chest, but my eyes fall away from his. I can’t look at him. “Because we have an expiration. And this will have to end.”
Ian’s breathing grows slightly faster and deeper. Heat rises in his eyes. He’s angry about this and this situation that I didn’t ask for—the one that neither of us can do anything about.
“Three and a half months,” he says with hardness in his voice. “Those three and a half months are ours, and if any of them mess with a single day of it, I’ll kill them all.”