Sweet Last Drop (18 page)

When were rumors ever that accurate?
I thought. To my own ears they sounded like lies, the events were so fantastic, but those last few moments beneath the city, fighting against Jillian and Kaden, witnessing Dominic’s heartbreak at their betrayal, and struggling to survive were etched permanently into my memory.

I’d never forget the vibrating rumble of the coven descending on us. Dominic was unconscious, hemorrhaging after losing his battle against Jillian. I had slit my own wrist and fed Dominic my blood to revive him. Dominic wouldn’t have survived without me, but I’d never have survived against his coven without him.

To Rene, I shrugged. “You can’t always trust what you hear.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” Rene leaned forward. A golden blond lock fell over his face. “Until you controlled my mind.”

Once I’d caught by breath, Rene set me on my feet, and I followed him deep into the cave, away from humanity and civilization, away from the safety of sunlight with only my status as Dominic’s night blood as protection. The cavern air was damp. I could taste its stale moisture from the stagnant water pooled at the cave’s bottom. Rows of stalagmites jutted from the water, some my height and others gigantic, towering over my head and nearly kissing the few stalactites hanging from above. As he led me through the cavern, I couldn’t help but compare this coven entrance to the only other coven I’d ever had the misfortune of entering. Dominic and his vampires lived in the bowels beneath New York City, within a labyrinth of abandoned subway tunnels and sewer drains. His coven’s entrance was dank and dark and underground as well.

Although Bex and Dominic couldn’t enjoy the sunlight, I’d imagine that living underground in stale air and seclusion, was a type of prison all its own. If I were a vampire, despite all their enhanced senses, strength, and capabilities, I’d still want fresh air and moonlight if I couldn’t have sunlight, and I knew from experience—from Jillian’s betrayal and the other rebels in Dominic’s coven—that I wasn’t the only one who shared that opinion.

Rene stopped in front of an Old World, brass and oak door. He turned the knob, and the door opened with an ear-splitting, scraping creak that echoed in shaming reverberations throughout the cavern.

Rene winced. “It’s the moisture. The wood expands, and it’s hell to open.”

“You could install a new door,” I said. I held back a giggle at the thought of Rene, with his long blond hair and black leathers, with a tool belt.

“Bex loves this door, among other things.” Rene sighed. “This way, please.”

Rene stepped inside, and I gaped. The coven wasn’t built from a natural cave. We were walking through a restored mining shaft. Dark, glossed hardwood had been laid as its floor, but the vertical beams and struts of the original mining shaft were sanded, stained, and finished. The beams lined the walls in four-foot intervals and every other beam sported an antique kerosene lamp. The flame in each lamp flickered hypnotically, creating a beating, romantic pulse. I walked forward through the entryway, out of the cavern, and into the hall, feeling like I was stepping back in time.

The air was less damp in the hall. Rene closed the door behind us, and we walked through the mining shaft in semi silence. Our shoes clipped on the hardwood. The sound echoed, seemingly in pulse with the flickering light. I had questions, so many damn questions that my body felt stretched thin from their unspoken potential, but the flames flickering sedately against the wood beams pulled my thoughts inward. I swallowed my questions and simply absorbed the experience. This mining shaft was built long before my birth, was used for mining before the vampires had claimed it as their home, and would exist as their coven long after my death. Moments like this, when the world is narrowed and timeless and infinite compared to the blip of our existence, the only right answer to the many questions is silence.

We reached the end of the hall, and Rene opened that door with significantly less ruckus than the first. It swung out gracefully and soundlessly to reveal the dining hall. I caught myself gaping again in open-mouthed awe and made a conscious decision to close my mouth. The hall was stunning. More dark glossy floors and vertical wooden beams accented the space to match the mining shaft, but the kerosene lamps were replaced by crystal candelabra. Their light sparkled over the walls, glittered across the floors, winked down the dark tapestries, and shimmered along the banquet table, brightening the entire hall in subtle iridescent hues.

Rene strode directly to the banquet table. He pulled out one of the middle seats—a high-backed, cushioned number lined with brass tacks—and gestured for me to sit.

I eyed the table speculatively. It was already set with four place settings.

I walked to Rene at a more sedate pace compared to his purposeful clip—my hip was grinding against my last nerve—and sat graciously in the chair he offered.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

Walker joined us a minute later, led by Bex, seemingly no worse for wear from having rappelled into the cavern. He sidestepped Bex, scraped his chair out from the table, and sat next to me without waiting for her gesture. Bex ignored Walker’s mood, smiling as if we were all old friends finally gathered together to dine. Her cowboy boots, jeans, and strappy top were strangely modern and misplaced here in the world she’d created within the mining shaft. Dominic had created a whole city beneath New York City, complete with tunnels and passageways and a labyrinth of corridors and rooms. Bex, on the other hand, hadn’t just created a city. She’d created a passage in time, a world apart from the outside in which her coven could not only inhabit but also thrive.

Yet Bex herself was dressed like a twenty-year-old cowgirl ready for a night out and looking for a good time.

Rene removed his leather coat and stood next to the table wearing dark jeans and a button down. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, looking uncomfortable with the top buttons against his throat. As Bex approached, he scooted the chair across from Walker out from the table. Bex sat, and Rene tucked her in place. She nodded, Rene left the room, and the timeless, candlelit silence turned suffocating.

Bex met Walker’s gaze and smiled. “Thank you for joining me for dinner. Both of you,” she said, looking between the two of us. “I know y’all are swamped with a murder investigation, and I appreciate that you’ve taken the time to keep our dinner date.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“As if we had a choice,” Walker murmured.

I jammed the heel of my boot into his shin under the table. He kicked me back with his other foot.

“There are always choices,” Bex said, her expression and tone still pleasant despite the edge to her words.

Rene returned with two plates of salad for Walker and me. He filled our glasses with white wine and Bex’s glass as well as his own with a dark crimson, more viscous liquid from a separate decanter. The smell of her drink burned the back of my throat, and Jillian stirred inside me.

I glanced sideways at Walker.

He picked up his fork and glanced sideways at me, just as hesitant.

“Please,” Rene gestured. “Enjoy.”

I swallowed preemptively, speared a cucumber and spinach leaf in my fork, and took a bite of salad.

The dressing was sweet and tangy and complimented the crumble of blue cheese over the greens. I swallowed, relief like the warm spread of wine through my limbs, and I forked up another bite. I don’t know what I expected. Despite being invited to dinner, I somehow hadn’t anticipated being fed. As Walker had once warned me, poison wasn’t their style, but as far as I was aware, neither was hosting dinner parties.

“The dressing is quite good,” I commented truthfully.

Walker grunted, having taken his first bite.

Bex nodded. “So Cassidy, what brings you to Erin, New York? Surely Ian isn’t the only reason for such an unexpected visit.”

I raised my eyebrows, reminding myself that I was here for Dominic. As his night blood, what would be considered an appropriate response? I took my time chewing and swallowing another bite of salad before answering.

“Surely my visit isn’t unexpected, considering that Dominic is my Master.”

Walker kicked my shin with the back of his heel. I grimaced and kicked him back this time, but he toyed with his salad, seemingly unfazed by my retaliation.

The corner of Bex’s lip twitched as she fought not to grin. She took a sip from her glass before speaking. “Yes, I expected Lysander to respond in some way after Ian was harmed in his care.”

Walker frowned. “In his care? I’m not—”

“Dominic sends his deepest apologies,” I interrupted. I gritted my teeth against Walker’s heel as it slammed into the same bruised spot over my shin again. “He never intended Walker any harm. As you know, Dominic’s Leveling approaches, and Walker’s injuries were an unfortunate result of the rising civil war in the coven. I was injured that night, too, but Dominic restored order and healed us as best he could.”

Bex swirled the liquid under her nose. The crystal from the chandelier winked in the sparkle of the glass and illuminated the liquid a brighter red. “A civil war in which two night bloods are injured doesn’t speak well of the control Lysander is maintaining within his coven.”

I narrowed my eyes. “He maintained control of the coven just fine. As I said, they
attempted
an uprising, but Dominic restored order.”

“I heard differently,” Rene said. He’d settled in the chair next to Bex after serving the salad, but he hadn’t yet touched the liquid in his own glass. “I heard that Lysander didn’t restore order to his coven. I heard that you did.”

I braced my shin for Walker’s strike, but he didn’t kick me this time. He just stared at me, his face like granite.

I took another bite of salad, mulling over my answer before speaking. “I did my part, but my actions are an extension of Dominic’s power. Despite what you may or may not have heard, Dominic
will
maintain control of his coven during the Leveling. I’ll make sure of it.”

Walker choked on his salad.

I patted his back. “Are you OK?”

He glared at me and moved away from my hand.

I sighed. This was going to be a long dinner.

“I accept Lysander’s apology on Walker’s behalf,” Bex said. She set her glass aside on the table and stared into my eyes, her gaze unwavering. “You just recently discovered your existence as a night blood, is that right?”

I nodded. “Until about a month ago, I didn’t even know that vampires existed, let alone that I had the potential to transform into one.”

Bex rapped her finger on the table. “Lysander must be quite persuasive to have inspired such loyalty so quickly.”

“He can be persuasive when he wants to be, but he learned from the beginning that I can be just as persuasive.” I smiled, and I’m sure that my smile looked as cocky as it felt. I was very proud of my abilities to entrance vampires. “My loyalty is based firmly on mutual respect, not coercion, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Bex blinked, and I got the distinct impression that not many things took her by surprise. But I did. “I wasn’t implying anything. My apologies.”

“Yes, you were,” Walker said snottily. He finished his salad and threw his fork on the plate with a clatter. “All you know is coercion.”

“I have
never
coerced you into any decision. You might delude yourself into thinking coercion explains the demons that you have lurking inside you, but let me assure you, those demons are all your own,” Bex growled.

The intuitive creature that he was, Rene chose that moment to stand, gather our finished salad plates, and escape back into the kitchen.

“You’re the demon,” Walker snapped.

Bex shook her head sadly. “When will you forgive me for Julia-Marie’s death? It was an accident.”

“It was no accident!” Walker exploded. “You killed her!”

“I did no such thing,” Bex said patiently. “She wasn’t strong enough to complete the transformation. I knew better than to try, but when you insisted, I couldn’t deny you. I can’t deny you anything.”

I got the distinct impression that this was an age-old fight, so I took Rene’s cue, bit my tongue, and let it play out without my input.

“I grieve for her, too,” Bex said softly.

“Bullshit! You killed my parents to worm your way into my life, and you killed Julia to worm your way into my heart. You’re a monster and a murderer. You don’t know how to grieve,” Walker hissed, his voice the nastiest and rawest I’d ever heard.

I held my breath for Bex’s reaction.

She stared at him a long moment, took a longer sip from her wine glass, and finally, she leaned forward, her beautiful green and yellow-tinged eyes pleading. “I don’t know what I can do to show you that I never intended for any of those things to happen. I’m not to blame for the fire that killed your parents. I don’t know why Julia-Marie’s blood couldn’t sustain the transformation. I’m not responsible for the things you’ve always accused me of, and I don’t know what on earth I can do to show you that I care. Tell me what to do to rewind the damage, and I’ll do it.”

Walker crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “You want to rewind back to when I agreed to be your night blood?”

Bex nodded. “Of course that’s what I want. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“I agreed to be your night blood to save Julia. My decision had absolutely nothing to do with you and everything to do with saving her. But you failed. I’ll never agree to be yours again,” Walker said coldly.

Bex leaned away from the table. I waited for her to explode, transform into a gargoyle, and tear Walker’s throat out—a woman enraged—but she didn’t. She picked up her napkin, patted her lips with its corner, and stood.

“I’d better check on Rene to see what’s holding up your dinner,” she said.

She turned her back on the dining hall, leaving Walker and me drowning in the wake of her tense, angry silence.

“You’ve never mentioned Julia before,” I said softly.

“I don’t like talking about her. She uproots memories I’d rather leave buried.”

I understood better than anyone the benefits of putting the past to rest, but I had to know. The reporter in me wouldn’t let it go, and if I was honest with myself, the woman in me wouldn’t, either. “Julia was the reason you agreed to become a vampire?”