Wicked Soul (Ancient Blood #1)(72)

“You believe in reincarnation?” he asked.

“I do. And I believe in you. Please, Warin. Promise me, no matter what happens… don’t end your life. Not before it’s time.”

He reached up and stroked a hand across my cheek in a gentle caress. “I can promise that I will always be there for you, as your friend, for as long as you need me.”

I frowned. “But I won’t always be here. I’ll grow old, and I’ll die.”

“You don’t have to worry for me, little one. I will finish whatever Fate has planned for me. Meeting you showed me that even after more than a thousand years, I don’t know what will come next.”

I guessed that was as much as I could ask for, though I wished he’d been more definitive on the whole “no suicide ever” thing. “Are you really more than a thousand years old?

“About twelve hundred, give or take.”

“That’s…” I snorted, the vastness of his lifespan stretching too far for me to fully comprehend. To have been alive for more than a millennium… “I thought you were a kid when I saw you in that cage. Not even old enough to buy a drink legally.”

He chuckled, the rumble of it vibrating through his chest to mine. “I think I was around nineteen, maybe twenty, when I died.”

I sighed and patted his shoulder. “The next time you call me ‘little one,’ I’m gonna start calling you grandpa.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

I smirked into his shoulder. “See it as part of your penance for blood-stalking me.”

We sat in silence a while longer, until a thought began to niggle at me. Something about that number he’d mentioned before—eight hundred years. “Warin… do you know someone called Thea? Or have you ever?”

“No. Why?”

“Nothing. It was just a thought.” I straightened up and looked out across the city lights stretching out far below. “Oh, and Warin? One final thing…”

“Yes?”

“I’m not paying you back for the plane tickets to Denver on Thursday. This whole penance thing is going to take a while.”





22





I flew to Denver alone in the early afternoon on the twenty-third of November, the day of Thanksgiving. Warin had informed me he’d fly by himself the previous night, and as much as I loved flying with him, a nearly three hours spent shivering on Warin’s back wasn’t nearly as attractive as the first-class ticket he’d bought me.

I arrived not too long after sunset, and found a chauffeur waiting for me with a cardboard sign at the airport.

He turned out to be driving a limo.

Warin was certainly going all-out in trying to make up. As I leaned back and sipped a glass of champagne, I couldn’t deny it was pretty nice that he tried this hard. I was already grateful that I didn’t have to dip into my savings for the flight and hotel room, but this—this was above and beyond.

The driver took me to a fancy-as-fuck hotel twenty minutes from the airport, and I blinked as he opened the door for me, my weekend bag in hand.

“Wow, you sure we’re in the right place?”

“I’m sure, Miss Green. Mr. Waldlitch ask me to relay that the bill will be taken fully care of, and to order from room service as you please. He will be here at six thirty to pick you up.”

I didn’t even care that the chauffeur probably thought I was some sort of kept woman. Even the anxiety that had been brewing in my gut all day at the prospect of seeing my family seemed easier to deal with as I checked into the most luxurious hotel suite I’d ever stepped foot in and gave into my very own Pretty Woman fantasy.



* * *



“You look very beautiful.”

I smiled at Warin as he stood in the hotel foyer, hands clasped at the wrists while he waited for me. I wasn’t in anything nearly as fancy as the silky extravagance he’d bought for me for his vampire meeting. The gray long-sleeved dress, woolen tights, and knee-high boots I was wearing were my own, but they were the very best my closet had to offer. I’d spent a long time agonizing over picking out an outfit that my family wouldn’t criticize, on styling my hair in a way I knew my mother wouldn’t complain about, and applying exactly the right amount of makeup to not be pulled aside for being a slob, nor gossiped about for being a whore. The look of sincere admiration on Warin’s face as he looked me up and down went a long way to calm my anxiety that I might have gotten it wrong.

“Thank you. And… thank you for all this.” I motioned at the hotel foyer. “So much. You didn’t have to… I know I said it was penance, but this is…”

“It’s nothing but a small gesture.” He waved me off, offering me his arm. “I’m staying with Aleric, but I figured you might want a little break from, ah, my kind.”

“I didn’t know he lived in Denver,” I said.

“He’s the Night Lord of the city and its surrounding territories,” Warin explained.

“Oh, maybe that explains his haughty attitude.” I grimaced. “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“My brother can be very… protective,” he said as he led me outside.

I stared at the fire-engine-red Ferrari we stopped in front of. “Wow. That’s… not what I thought your taste was like.”