Bound by Flames
Page 35
Chapter 19
Vlad stayed out of the bedroom and bathroom the entire time I was in there, which turned out to be over an hour. Despite scouring my flesh, I still didn’t feel clean once I emerged from the shower, though I doubted a team of forensic experts could find a single particle on me from my old cell. It must be guilt that made me feel like I was covered with invisible stains.
After my extensive shower, I dressed in a long caftan that I found in the closet, not surprised to see that Vlad had stocked this room with clothes. All new, of course, since everything I owned had burned to the ground along with the rest of Vlad’s castle. The long-sleeved ankle-length dress had pretty shell buttons down the front and its pale cream color matched the villa’s décor. I left my hair loose after I blew it dry. Feeling it brush my shoulders was a comforting, tangible reminder that I really had it back again.
Vlad wasn’t on the patio when I went to look for him. He wasn’t in the vase room or the plush pub, either. I was surprised to find that the villa had two more bedrooms, an indoor movie theater, a library, formal dining room, exercise room, living room, and a grand entryway with a separate elegant lounge. Each room seemed to come with its own guard, too, and I was relieved to see familiar faces like Samir and Petre. I surprised them—and myself—by hugging them. I didn’t see Dorian or Alexandru, however, and I was afraid to ask if that was because they’d stayed behind in Romania, or because they hadn’t survived the castle attack. To keep from dwelling on that grim thought, I marveled at the villa. It was so large; I couldn’t believe we were in a hotel. This could have been one of the wings in Vlad’s former castle.
I followed the throb of power in the air to finally find Vlad in a fancy version of a family room. Several people were sitting on couches near him, but they all had their backs to me. Mencheres was easy to pick out, his black hair being as long and straight as mine. Next to him was a blonde, who must have been his wife, Kira. Then a girl with bobbed black hair and a bald man who was so short, all I saw was the top of his head . . .
“Gretchen, Marty,” I said in delighted surprise. “I didn’t know you were in Vegas, too!”
Marty made it to me first, vaulting over the couch to envelop me in a bear hug. My tears hit the top of his newly bald head as I hugged him back, so happy to see him that I barely noticed the sharp look Vlad gave me.
“The Strip is a constant dull roar, no wonder you didn’t hear us slip in,” Marty said, letting me go at last. Then he swiped at the front of my dress. “Aw, hell,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “Got stains on you.”
I glanced at the pink smudges his tears had made and froze. For a moment, all I could see were the stains on my thighs from Maximus, and the memory almost knocked me off my feet. My sister didn’t notice my reaction. She gave me a hug next, and if I responded far more woodenly, she didn’t comment.
“Aren’t these villas the shit?” Gretchen said in glee. “Finally, your husband locks us up somewhere awesome!”
Her reference to being locked up also made me flinch, which was ridiculous. So was my reaction to the pink smears on my dress, yet I couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of suffocation and guilt that suddenly came over me.
“Leila,” Vlad said, his low voice cutting through Gretchen’s continued, excited comments. “Are you all right?”
Gretchen didn’t seem to hear him. Marty did, and he gave me an appraising look as my sister went on about how amazing Vegas was and did I know that Vlad had given her a gambling allowance?
“She doesn’t know, does she?” I rasped.
Vlad rose, his stare never wavering. “No. I leave it to you to decide if she can handle it.”
“Handle what?” Gretchen said, still not catching on. “My gambling allowance? Hell, yes, I can handle it!”
I looked at my little sister, who hid so much of the pain she’d been through since our mother’s death behind a wall of flippancy and sarcasm. She looked happy now, so I’d be damned if I was going to be the one who ruined that.
“Good,” I said, trying to pull myself together. “Space out your gambling allowance. Don’t blow it all in one day.”
“Sure, sis,” she said, giving me a quick kiss.
I wanted to touch the spot on my cheek to hold her kiss there. Vlad hadn’t been the only person I’d feared I would never see again when Szilagyi had captured me.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked, sounding almost normal now.
Gretchen made a disgusted noise. “In the next villa, refusing to come out of his room. He’s still pouting about being in hiding, not to mention still pissed that you became a vampire against his wishes.”
I shouldn’t have expected anything different. Especially if, like Gretchen, Hugh Dalton had no idea of what I’d just been through, but my raw emotional wounds made this more than I could fake nonchalance over. It was foolish for me, a grown woman, to let my father’s continued rejection make me feel like a hurt little girl, yet that’s exactly how his actions hit me.
“Oh,” I said, and though I meant it to sound noncommittal, the single word came out as more of a stifled sob.
“I have had enough,” Vlad said in a barely restrained growl, then he thundered, “Hugh!” loud enough for the nearby window panes to tremble. Without waiting for a response, he strode out of the room.
“Vlad, don’t,” I said, starting after him. He didn’t slow and Marty grabbed me, preventing me from going after him.
Vlad stayed out of the bedroom and bathroom the entire time I was in there, which turned out to be over an hour. Despite scouring my flesh, I still didn’t feel clean once I emerged from the shower, though I doubted a team of forensic experts could find a single particle on me from my old cell. It must be guilt that made me feel like I was covered with invisible stains.
After my extensive shower, I dressed in a long caftan that I found in the closet, not surprised to see that Vlad had stocked this room with clothes. All new, of course, since everything I owned had burned to the ground along with the rest of Vlad’s castle. The long-sleeved ankle-length dress had pretty shell buttons down the front and its pale cream color matched the villa’s décor. I left my hair loose after I blew it dry. Feeling it brush my shoulders was a comforting, tangible reminder that I really had it back again.
Vlad wasn’t on the patio when I went to look for him. He wasn’t in the vase room or the plush pub, either. I was surprised to find that the villa had two more bedrooms, an indoor movie theater, a library, formal dining room, exercise room, living room, and a grand entryway with a separate elegant lounge. Each room seemed to come with its own guard, too, and I was relieved to see familiar faces like Samir and Petre. I surprised them—and myself—by hugging them. I didn’t see Dorian or Alexandru, however, and I was afraid to ask if that was because they’d stayed behind in Romania, or because they hadn’t survived the castle attack. To keep from dwelling on that grim thought, I marveled at the villa. It was so large; I couldn’t believe we were in a hotel. This could have been one of the wings in Vlad’s former castle.
I followed the throb of power in the air to finally find Vlad in a fancy version of a family room. Several people were sitting on couches near him, but they all had their backs to me. Mencheres was easy to pick out, his black hair being as long and straight as mine. Next to him was a blonde, who must have been his wife, Kira. Then a girl with bobbed black hair and a bald man who was so short, all I saw was the top of his head . . .
“Gretchen, Marty,” I said in delighted surprise. “I didn’t know you were in Vegas, too!”
Marty made it to me first, vaulting over the couch to envelop me in a bear hug. My tears hit the top of his newly bald head as I hugged him back, so happy to see him that I barely noticed the sharp look Vlad gave me.
“The Strip is a constant dull roar, no wonder you didn’t hear us slip in,” Marty said, letting me go at last. Then he swiped at the front of my dress. “Aw, hell,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “Got stains on you.”
I glanced at the pink smudges his tears had made and froze. For a moment, all I could see were the stains on my thighs from Maximus, and the memory almost knocked me off my feet. My sister didn’t notice my reaction. She gave me a hug next, and if I responded far more woodenly, she didn’t comment.
“Aren’t these villas the shit?” Gretchen said in glee. “Finally, your husband locks us up somewhere awesome!”
Her reference to being locked up also made me flinch, which was ridiculous. So was my reaction to the pink smears on my dress, yet I couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of suffocation and guilt that suddenly came over me.
“Leila,” Vlad said, his low voice cutting through Gretchen’s continued, excited comments. “Are you all right?”
Gretchen didn’t seem to hear him. Marty did, and he gave me an appraising look as my sister went on about how amazing Vegas was and did I know that Vlad had given her a gambling allowance?
“She doesn’t know, does she?” I rasped.
Vlad rose, his stare never wavering. “No. I leave it to you to decide if she can handle it.”
“Handle what?” Gretchen said, still not catching on. “My gambling allowance? Hell, yes, I can handle it!”
I looked at my little sister, who hid so much of the pain she’d been through since our mother’s death behind a wall of flippancy and sarcasm. She looked happy now, so I’d be damned if I was going to be the one who ruined that.
“Good,” I said, trying to pull myself together. “Space out your gambling allowance. Don’t blow it all in one day.”
“Sure, sis,” she said, giving me a quick kiss.
I wanted to touch the spot on my cheek to hold her kiss there. Vlad hadn’t been the only person I’d feared I would never see again when Szilagyi had captured me.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked, sounding almost normal now.
Gretchen made a disgusted noise. “In the next villa, refusing to come out of his room. He’s still pouting about being in hiding, not to mention still pissed that you became a vampire against his wishes.”
I shouldn’t have expected anything different. Especially if, like Gretchen, Hugh Dalton had no idea of what I’d just been through, but my raw emotional wounds made this more than I could fake nonchalance over. It was foolish for me, a grown woman, to let my father’s continued rejection make me feel like a hurt little girl, yet that’s exactly how his actions hit me.
“Oh,” I said, and though I meant it to sound noncommittal, the single word came out as more of a stifled sob.
“I have had enough,” Vlad said in a barely restrained growl, then he thundered, “Hugh!” loud enough for the nearby window panes to tremble. Without waiting for a response, he strode out of the room.
“Vlad, don’t,” I said, starting after him. He didn’t slow and Marty grabbed me, preventing me from going after him.
