Pretty When She Dies (Pretty When She Dies #1)(44)

His toys.” Cian could feel his bitterness rising once more. “I have spent a large portion of the last fifty years insuring he would leave me be.”

“Does he?”

Cian nodded. Of course, the price he had paid had been high. But now he was closer to his mortal existence than he had ever been throughout the centuries. At times, he felt almost human.

“Will he leave me alone?”

“No,” Cian said softly. “No he won't. It's only a few days into his game.

He's seeing if you survive on your own. How strong you are. Do not doubt, he is watching you.” Cian's gaze swept over the city slowly.

“He is probably in Austin watching us at this very moment.”

The thought angered him and, for the thousandth time, he thought he should just kill Amaliya and spare her the torment that was to come.

A large portion of that inclination was him feeling immensely selfish.

He had fought long and hard to remove himself from The Summoner's influence. Having Amaliya with him was just an invitation to have the ancient vampire back in his life.



Amaliya rested her forehead on the glass and stared down into the street below. People were on their way to the clubs, laughing and talking animatedly. Cian could almost read her thoughts and he saw the weariness settle into her shoulders. She understood and he was strangely comforted with that knowledge.

“It's like having the world's worst stalker on your case,” she said at last.

“That it is,” Cian admitted.

“Why does he do it? Make us then torture us? Stalk us? Not help us?”

“It amuses him. He's old and bored. He doesn't wield the power he did alive so he plays these games to make himself more powerful. Or at least that is my official diagnosis of his psychosis.”

“Why don't the other vampires kill him?”

Her gaze was so soft and afraid. She almost looked human, but her skin was too pale and translucent and her eyes glittered.

“Most of the ancients are in Europe. There are a few in South and Central America, but they never travel this far north. America, and I'm including the U.S., Canada and Mexico, have much younger vampires. I am most likely one of the oldest here. He is thousands of years old and possibly one of the very first of our kind to walk the earth. Despite his limitations in his magic, he is quite dangerous. We all live with the knowledge that should he decide to wreck havoc on the earth, he could. By night, of course, but how much damage could an army of the dead do in one night against mortals?”

“Why hasn't he done it yet?”

Cian shrugged. “No one knows. Rumors are that he tried once and the Ancients crushed his army and crippled him. In other words, wounded him so terribly it took decades to heal. But it's all legend and rumors. What I have seen him do with my own eyes is enough to terrify me.”



The girl's shoulders drooped even more. “I'm pretty much dead, aren't I? Even if you don't kill me, he will.”

Cian turned to look at her. In the light of his apartment, she looked younger than in the club. Her black hair fell long and untethered almost to her waist. Her body was shapely without being heavy. The tattoo on her arm was marred and he could see where it probably held a cross or rosary tucked into the design before her transformation. He had caught a glimpse of the wings on her back earlier. She was very different from Samantha, yet both of them looked very Austin.

“The one thing about being a vampire is that you become immensely terrified of death,” he said finally.

She looked at him with a plaintive expression on her face. “Tell me about it.” She ran the back of her foot down her other leg and sighed.

“Can I go eat now? I'm really really hungry.”

“No,” he said with a weary sigh. “It's not safe anymore. You will have to stay here.”

“Look, I have a hotel room. I have a car. I can get the hell out of Austin.”

“And go where?”

She shrugged. “Maybe Mexico. Or New Orleans?”

Cian laughed at that. “There is no Lestat living there. There is a Master there, but she'd rather kill you than deal with you.”

Amaliya sighed softly. “I can't stay here. I got my own life to figure out.”

“Just stay here tonight and we'll sort it out. You are right. You do need to learn our ways or you won't survive. I can teach you. Then you can go. Decide where you want to go and just go. I won't stop you.”

He didn't mean for his voice to sound harsh, but he was angry at himself for not immediately turning her out. But he just couldn't do it.

No one had been there for him when he had become what he was.

Just throwing her into the night seemed inordinately cruel and very much like something The Summoner would do. He would not walk in the footsteps of his creator.

“You got blood in storage or something? Because I'm starving.”

Cian could see that she was struggling. Her skin was looking even more pale and her eyes were sparkling dangerously. He reached out and touched her cheek and found it cold to his touch.

“No. But I have fed tonight. You can drink from me.”

She glanced at his neck and drew slightly away. “What will that do?”

“Nourish you,” he snapped, then said in a softer voice, “It will enable you not to feed for another day or two without hunger. I apologize. I have not been around my own kind very often over the last thirty years.”