The Vampire Hunter's Daughter: Complete Collection(38)

It took about an hour to reach Trevor’s house. I tried to guess which house was his, but little did I know, it couldn’t be seen from the highway. Eventually, we slowed, and I realized the house was hidden down a small paved driveway, beyond a large iron gate, surrounded by trees. Well, it wasn’t even really a house… It was a freakin' mansion.

We pulled into a brick driveway that circled a large fountain with stone fairies that danced around falling water. Lights in the bottom of the fountain created a magical glow for the dancing fairies.

“Why is your house so big?” I asked him. I leaned over the seat to grab my duffel bag.

He got out of the car and slammed the door. “A little extravagance never hurts,” he replied.

“Okay.” I rolled my eyes and didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

“Follow me.” He motioned for me to come with him.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and followed him up the brick pathway to the French doors that served as the front entrance.

“Welcome home,” he told me and flung the doors open.

I spun around in a slow circle. Never in my life had I actually been inside a home as nice as his. The floors looked like they were white marble with black swirls. A gigantic chandelier hung directly above us, each delicate crystal glimmered and reflected the lights. Because of my new wonky vision, I could tell that every one of those crystals were real. Expensive Persian rugs were thrown over specific spots on the floors. To my left, I could see a large living room area, the couches and chairs were all smooth black leather that looked so comfy and soft.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

I looked at him like he was an idiot. “Seriously, do you even have anything here I can eat?” In my head I was thinking that he was going to offer me a big glass of blood or something.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a semi grin.

“Vampires do not require the sustenance humans require. We can, however, consume human food if we choose to. I also have human donors who live here. They must eat well in order to feed me well.”

I wanted to barf. Human donors? “That is disgusting.”

“You would rather I bring home an unsuspecting young girl and take her against her will?" He waved his hand in the air a bit. “I have tried that and found it distressing when I have to kill them because they can’t keep silent. The donors are here of their own free will, and I pay them more than enough. None of them will have anything to worry about for the rest of their lives. Come now.” He beckoned me again to follow him.

I was still disgusted.

“Alice!” he called out. Within seconds, a human girl with blond hair, who couldn’t have been much older than me, emerged from one of the rooms beyond where we stood.

“What can I do for you tonight, Mr. Trevor?” At least she wasn’t wearing a degrading maid’s uniform. She had on a tee-shirt and jeans.

“Alice, my daughter and I would like to have a late supper.”

“Yes, sir.” Alice rushed off in the direction of what I assumed to be the kitchen.

I was still so taken with the house and continued to look around. There were many pieces of art on the walls and shelves housed authentic-looking statues and vases. The only reason I knew they looked old was because we did a section on art history in school. The majority of the art on the walls were paintings of sunsets, sunrises and ocean scenes. The pinks, purples and oranges of the sunset and sunrise pictures contrasted the black and white decor, giving it warmth and color.

Trevor watched while I examined the house. “Chloe, I hope that you will make yourself at home. This is all as much yours as it is mine.”

I nodded trying to keep my expression blank.

“Why don’t we take your bags up to your rooms?” He headed up the stairs. The stairs and the second floor were carpeted in white.

Really, more white? For some reason, my one thought when I saw the white carpet everywhere was that it would be terribly hard to keep blood stains off of it.

The walls upstairs were burgundy. Instead of paintings, the walls were accented with artistic photographs.

“Did you take these pictures?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. Most of these are daylight shots, so I couldn’t have taken them.” He stopped to examine the pictures, gazing longingly at one in particular of a farmhouse surrounded by lush green fields and large oak trees. “Although, they do remind me of what I am not able to experience.”

He turned away, and we continued on until he paused at a set of double doors at the end of the hallway.

“This is your suite.” He opened the doors with both hands.

I passed through the doors and then stood in awe. The room we entered was a living area with couches and a television in the center. A desk was pushed up against one wall and there were about six book shelves along another wall, bulging with books. Across from the couches, tucked into the corner of the sitting area, was a small dining table with two cushioned chairs.

The only thing I didn’t like about the room was that there were no windows to let the sunlight in.

“This is your sitting room, and if you come this way,” he moved through an adjoining door, “this is your bed room.”

I followed him into the bedroom. As soon as I saw the queen bed with a pewter frame and sheer curtains, I wanted to crawl in and go to sleep. The bedroom also had a flat screen television mounted on the wall.