Dying To Be Heard (Book 1): Outcry (11 page)

Rayne shrugged. "I feel like I'm back at the hotel. It's kind of depressing. I like lots of color." She crossed her arms over her chest and flipped her long hair off of her shoulder. She didn't want to look at him. What if she had offended him by practically telling him it was hideous and almost painful to look at?

He smiled, and relief washed over her. He even managed a small chuckle. "I'll have you know the highest-paid designer in Louisiana came all the way from New Orleans to design this. I was assured it was the highest quality of style."

Rayne raised her eyebrows. "I really hope you paid him or her enough for a good eye exam, because I'm pretty sure they were color-blind. What did you do, make a deal with the hotel owner and get a two-for-one special?"

Camden's laugh grew louder. "Well considering I AM the hotel owner, we didn't have to make that much of a deal."

She was taken aback. He owned the hotel as well?
How much is he worth?
Shaking her head and trying not to seem too impressed, she decided not to comment on his admission and let him lead her into the next room.

Now this was her kind of room! The kitchen was modern, yet rustic, all at the same time. The floors were a rich, red-brown tile, with mahogany cabinets, and slate-gray granite counter tops. All the appliances were stainless, the stove gas-powered with a flat top off to one side, and a huge island in the middle. The walls were a deep maroon and tied in perfectly with the color scheme. A smile spread across her face slowly as she ran her hand over the cool, smooth granite. "This is more like it."

She turned to see the vampire leaning against the doorway and smiling. It wasn't the type of smile that she was expecting, though. This one said admiration, maybe even adoration. She couldn't pinpoint it, but it sure wasn't the prideful smirk she thought would be there.

Her smile softened and her cheeks flushed. She must have looked childish gushing about his house. "Sorry," she said, and bit her lower lip to hide her embarrassment.

Camden shook his head and strode toward her. "You don't ever have to apologize to me."

Rayne's face was on fire. She only could imagine how red it was. She nodded and held out her hand toward the dining room. "Continue."

Camden smiled and glanced at the clock. "Sorry, but that's going to have to be it for now. I have some things to take care of rather quickly." He smiled and turned to leave. "Oh, your room is upstairs, second door to the right."

He took a step closer and looked down at her. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat and braced herself against the island. He smelled good, too good, in fact. Whatever cologne he was wearing, it gave him a musky scent that was irresistible. Her skin crackled to life, and her senses were damn near ablaze just being in his proximity.

He turned for the door, but stopped before passing through. "If you need anything, Connor and I will be close. Just yell," he said over his shoulder. He paused there for a moment before nodding and disappearing into the next room.

Rayne let go of the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she had to steady herself against the counter. She mentally chastised herself.
Pull yourself together.
He's a four-hundred-year-old vampire with much better things to do than you.

It took a moment to calm herself before she left the kitchen, cringing as she passed through the living room and back to the main entry staircase. Gently running her hand along the mahogany banister as she climbed to the second floor, she stopped at the top and got a glimpse of the balcony overlooking the fireplace. She absolutely loved it!

It was a rounded platform surrounded by the same mahogany railings continuing around from the stairs. The floors were simple yet elegant in their own way, hardwood and finished with a glossy coating. Centered in the overhang was a beige rug and two white chairs, with a small, round end table between them.

She made a note to put this area to good use and turned the corner to find herself in a long hallway with another branching off to the left, and three doors on the right. She knew Camden had said that her room was the second on the right, but out of curiosity, she opened the first and found a storage closet filled with linen and cleaning supplies.

Moving on to the next one, she turned the knob and opened the door. It was breathtaking and matched the same color schemes as the other areas of the house: cream-colored carpet and white walls, with a massive four-post bed in the middle of the room. It looked as though it easily could fit thirty people or more!

The comforter spread across the top was a deep, rich purple and filled with goose down, and matching pillows were stacked up against the headboard. It looked so comfortable, she couldn't wait to try it out. She kicked off her tennis shoes and allowed herself to fall into its heavenly softness.

She stared up at the recessed ceiling, the soft glow from the lighting tucked in there giving the room an ambient feel. Now
this
was something she could get used to. Her eyes drifted closed for a moment. The down comforter and soft mattress made a delicious combination, and she found herself never wanting to move.

That is, until a vibration in her pocket startled her. She pulled out her phone and saw that she had eight missed calls and twelve text messages, all from Layla. She balled her hand into a fist and pounded it against her forehead.
How could I forget to call her
?

Well, actually, it was pretty easy considering the chain of events up until that moment. She hit the speed dial, and Layla picked up on the first ring.

"You better be dead," she huffed. "That's going to be your only excuse for not calling me."

Rayne flinched. "Sorry. It's been a little...crazy."

"Rayne Marie Slade! How could you?! I've been worried to death!"

Rayne pinched the bridge of her nose. "I know, Layla. I'm sorry."

The entire conversation consisted of a barrage of questions from Layla's end: “
Where are you? Are you OK? How long will you be there? What's happened since you left?”

Rayne answered them all to some degree, but made sure to leave out the parts about vampires, the attack, and her grandfather's murder. She could envision the freak-out factor that her friend could escalate to. That is, if she even believed it all. Rayne sighed and couldn't get rid of one particular question Layla had asked.

"Have you slept with him yet?"

"What?!" Rayne nearly shouted at her. "Are you crazy? No, I haven't, and I don't plan to, either!"

"Come on, Rayne! You can't honestly tell me that you are not interested in mister tall, pale, and sexy! He's hot!" Layla joked.

Rayne's face flushed and she was glad that no one could see it. The truth was, she'd thought about it on more than one occasion in the last twenty-four hours. But that did not mean she would, or even have the chance at that.

"Camden is a va..." she caught herself before the word slipped out. "A very hot guy with better things to do. I assure you," she recovered quickly.

Layla was silent for a moment before she continued, "I'm just saying that if the opportunity presents itself, you should jump on it. Literally!"

They both erupted into laughter, and thankfully, that was the end of the conversation.

Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Rayne finally took a moment to admire the artwork in the room, one painting in particular catching her eye. It was on the wall to the left of the door, and she was surprised she hadn't noticed it sooner.

It was a huge painting of a black, shadowed background, and coming from the shadows was a naked woman. Only her back was exposed to the viewer, and the skin there looked smooth and pasty white. The entire right half of her body was shrouded in darkness, and a deep purple sheet, seemingly silk, covered her buttocks and wrapped around the front of her body. Her head was turned to the side so that only her profile was visible over her left shoulder. With her eyes closed and bright red lips parted slightly, Rayne was sure it was the most sensual thing she'd ever seen. Moving closer, she tried to find the name or an initial or something of the artist. Whoever he was, he was magnificent.

The sound of a throat being cleared startled her, making her nearly jump out of her skin. Grabbing her chest, she turned to see Camden standing at the door. He'd changed out of the earlier clothes and now wore only a plain white shirt with his jeans.

She took a few deep breaths. "You scared the shhhhhttuff out of me!" she said, fumbling over her words when the curse nearly spilled from her mouth. Somehow, she didn't feel comfortable saying it in front of him. Her mother had always taught her that ladies did not curse. As old as he was, she was sure that he could agree.

Camden smiled. "Just checking to make sure the accommodations are to your liking," he said, putting on an air of sophistication and a horrible British accent.

"Yes, wonderful. Thank you." She smiled.

He strode toward her and looked up at the painting.

"It's amazing," she said quietly, and only realized that she'd said it out loud when he responded.

He nodded. "I thought so too."

Turning to face her, he crossed his arms over his chest and rested his shoulder against the bedpost. He had a serious look on his face

"I know there is still a lot to talk about, and questions that you have every right to ask, but there's something I want to show you first."

Rayne nodded. She didn't just have a few questions, she had millions of them. She wanted to know everything and what all of it had to do with her. She needed to know exactly what was going on so she could prepare mentally for what was to come. She needed some sort of game plan to go by, and the only way that could happen was with answers.

Camden nodded toward the door and pushed away from the bed. She followed him into the hall and down the second hallway she'd seen earlier. They turned the corner to the right and stopped at the only door on that stretch of wall.

Camden paused with his hand on the handle. "This was your grandfather's study."

Rayne's mouth dropped. "He lived here with you?"

He nodded. "He's been dead for twenty years, remember, and had people after him. This was the safest place. That's why there is so much security.”

"For how long? How did you know him?"

Camden held up his hand to stop her, and she snapped her mouth shut mid-sentence before any more could come pouring out of its own free will. He stood motionless for a moment and then slowly turned the handle.

She held her breath and gave him a nervous glance as the door swung open. She stared at the ground, steeling her resolve before she stepped inside to look around.

It was a large, ordinary room, with bookshelves covering every inch of every wall, and they all were loaded to the max. There was one large window on the far wall that allowed the afternoon sun to shine in on top of a large wooden desk.

Rayne bit her lower lip as her eyes roved. It reminded her of him. In fact, it looked very similar to the same one that she'd seen as a child, the one where he'd read, “The Aeneid,” to her. He was such a classic literature fan, and loved telling her the story of the Trojan Horse nearly as much as she enjoyed hearing it. The only thing this room was missing was the large, straight-backed chair they always sat in.

Her hand reached out of its own accord and gently rested on a row of books. Her fingers drifted over each spine, most of which were worn and tattered, and she slowly made her way around the room. She saw the famous classics, like “Frankenstein,” “Romeo and Juliet,” “The Odyssey,” “The Count of Monte Cristo,” “Moby Dick,” “Tom Sawyer,” and so many more. She couldn't even begin to imagine trying to count all the books this room held.

A single tear welled up and threatened to fall. She missed him. He may have been gone for twenty years, but she still missed him just the same. What she wouldn't give to have been able to have known him for all these years.

She made it around to the window and stopped to stare at the desk. There were four frames, all shiny metal, each holding a photo of her at different points throughout her life. She stood motionless, brows furrowed and lips pressed together in a determined fight with her emotions.

Rayne stepped closer, her hand resting on the smooth wood. The first frame held a picture of her before the sickness, when she was just four or five, smiling happily up at the camera. Next to that was one of her and her mother gardening in the front yard. She looked about eleven or twelve.
Where was it taken from? Across the street from my house?

Her mother sat on her knees in the grass, resting back on her heels and smiling down at a dirt-covered Rayne. They both wore ridiculously large straw hats and gloves. She remembered days like that. They would laugh for hours on end at how goofy each other looked.

A tiny smile pulled at the corner of her mouth and she moved on to the third. It was about ten years ago, and she and her mother were at the fair, eating cotton candy and laughing. Layla was there too, just part of her profile visible, but Rayne would recognize those black ringlets anywhere.

The last photo was of Rayne by herself, sitting at the cafe as usual and reading a book, maybe three or four years ago. It was snapped just as she was taking a sip of her coffee, her eyes closed and the wind gently whisking her hair.

It was the story of her life, happy and carefree at the beginning, growing up with a wonderful mother and best friend, and then alone. It had been tough, but she'd come through it ok and was a better, stronger person because of it. Life was not, nor had it ever been, fair. She knew that and ran with the hand she was dealt. Everything happens for a reason, and she was beginning to think that her current situation was it. Had her mother still been alive, she was almost certain she would not have agreed to fly across the country with a stranger. She wouldn't even have considered it. It was the same with her grandfather. If she'd known he was really alive all these years, then there would be no reason for her to be there now.