Forsaking (Vampire Assassin League Book 26) (9 page)

Nine minutes, forty-two seconds later, the elevator doors opened on enough space she could make a small apartment.

Bram walked from the elevator, towing her along since she held his arm. He looked up at a security camera above a set of double doors, and nodded. The thing had a little red sensor light. It blinked twice. Bram pulled on his shirt collar and cleared his throat.

Marielle looked about with raised brows. She hadn’t known Dobb Lake had anything this elegant. They’d been told to report to the penthouse known as the Inferno Suite. She couldn’t imagine what it might look like. They hadn’t even progressed past the vestibule. It was more luxurious than Mister Stimson’s private office. Three of the walls were decorated with mirrored panels interspaced with blood red panels. The remaining wall was one enormous painting of fire.
Wait
. She could make out a castle in the midst of the inferno. Some cliffs. Dark clouds. It really needed a dragon or two. They would have completed it.

She looked up from the painting. The ceiling was high; fifteen feet, if she had to guess. A crystal chandelier was above them, shedding sparkles of light through the area. The floor looked to be dark hardwood, laid in a parquet pattern. Black and red, Oriental-looking rugs were arrayed on the wood. They were thick. Richly hued. There were three dark leather sofas making a conversation area in one section. A black lacquer table sat in the midst of the sofas. Concert music was getting pumped through the area.

This was a foyer?

Wow
.

Almost ten minutes ago exactly, Bram had pitched his cell phone, plucked her from the bed, raced to a wardrobe to show her an array of dresses. He’d pulled open drawers containing undergarments, and then tossed the armoire doors wide. That had revealed an assortment of hats and archaic-looking, button-up shoes. He’d kissed her on the cheek and told her to pick whatever she liked. It was all for her. Then, he’d disappeared. All for her? That was thought-provoking. Unfortunately, the selection was a bit on the old-fashioned side. And then some. Everything appeared to be late Victorian. Maybe early Edwardian. And if she hadn’t played dress-up with antique clothing when she was little, she wouldn’t have known any of that.

She’d barely shaken out a teal-colored satin skirt, found a light silver blouse that sort-of matched, selected a pair of frilly knickers, and a corset top before Bram reappeared. That proved not only did he have the ability to move lightning-fast, but he appeared to have even less wardrobe options to pick from than she did. The man was dressed in boot-cut trousers of a slightly darker shade than he’d worn before. Above that was a white broadcloth, western-cut shirt. It was nicely tailored to show off his physique. His belt was black leather, fronted with a hammered silver buckle. The necktie was a strip of black satin with a silver concho to cinch it. He’d topped it with a really sharp, black, wide-brimmed Stetson. And no doubt he sported cowboy boots. She didn’t bother looking.

“You need to hurry, love. We can’t be late.”

“We need to go shopping. That’s what we need to do.”

“Shopping?”

“For new clothes. When did you get these? 1890? Maybe ’95?”

“Please, honey? Hurry. Do you need help?”

He was moving from foot to foot. That was endearing. And a little frightening. He didn’t look any different, but his body language was saying plenty. The man was worried. Troubled. Anxious. Marielle grabbed her armload of clothing, went behind a screen and started dressing. She ended up needing help because designers back then thought a woman needed a blouse with little pearl knobs that buttoned from each wrist almost to the elbow, and all the way to the nape of her neck. In the back. The skirt was a little large. It fell to her hips, which actually felt a bit normal and helped with the length. If this wardrobe was fashioned for her, he’d been a bit off on size and length. She’d decided on a pair of dark satin slippers. The shoes in that armoire looked like instruments of torture. The hat she’d selected was beyond entertaining, however. It was the least conspicuous, but even with the feathers plucked off, and most of the pearls removed, the hat looked like a museum piece. She’d wrapped her hair into a bun and shoved hair pins into it before donning her chapeau.

They’d looked like an advertisement for an old west show. Their appearance stopped most of the activity on the casino floor, and engendered a lot of attention. More than a dozen flashes accompanied their progress as people took pictures. Bram’s lips had thinned and he’d pulled his hat brim lower as he’d hurried them through to this elevator.

Marielle checked her reflection in one of the mirrored panels as they waited for entry.
Dang!
She really did look fantastic. The hat had a large dip in front with a strip of black lace that fell to her lash line. The blouse fit exactly to a figure the corset was enhancing, and the gap of skin between where her blouse ended and skirt began looked really sexy.

Hmm
.

This era might be a good look for her.

That’s exactly when she noticed that Bram wasn’t in the mirror. A quick glance showed several panels. He wasn’t in any of them. Not even his clothing. Marielle backed a step and bumped into him. His arm instantly encircled her waist. He pulled her to him. He was standing right with her.

Absolutely none of that was in any mirror. At any angle.

That’s when it hit her. Like a heavy gust of wind. Realization was a physical force that stole breath. She blinked rapidly on her reflection. She was in love. With a vampire. Bram Stark really
was
a vampire. For real. Oh. This was bad. Terrible.

Amazingly wonderful.

“You all right, darlin’?”

Thanks to his boots and her flats, he was several inches taller than her. His whisper started a blizzard of shivers. She turned toward him and looked up. Her heart did a swooping maneuver that made her a little nauseous.

“I don’t know, Bram. I’m...a little nervous.”

“I love you, Marielle. Forever. I am beyond thankful to have found you. I want you to know that. Whatever happens. You hear?”

“Oh, Bram. I—.” Tears choked her voice. Blurred her vision.

“Me, too.”

The door clicked and one side opened a fraction inward. Bram’s arm slid down her back. His hand reached hers. They linked fingers. Her heart enlarged until it felt like it reached her throat.

Bram pushed on the door. It slid open soundlessly. The room within was very dark. It took a few seconds to adjust to the lack of light. Another few to notice the room was enormous. And empty. An oasis of space was in the center of the room. Lit by a candelabra. With a full complement of tall tapers. It sat on the corner of a large dark wood desk backed by an executive leather chair. Also in black.

“Ah, Bramwell. And Miss O’Donnall. There you are. Right on time. Please. Come in.”

At the words, Marielle stopped. Her legs shook while her belly churned. She’d never heard such a voice. Bass tones resounded from every corner of the room. It was impossible to tell origin. Her fingers tightened on Bram’s. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. And then tucked her hand beneath his other arm. That gesture sent strength back to her legs. She moved with him as he approached the desk.

“I hadn’t much choice on the matter, Sir.”

Bram finally replied. They’d stopped about ten feet from the piece of furniture. It still loomed threateningly.

“True.”

The word was akin to a thunder clap. Marielle jumped slightly. Bram squeezed on her fingers. She sent a glance toward him. It was very dim. She could still see the concern in his eyes.

And the word he mouthed.

I love you.

She melted. Almost literally. Tears that had threatened spilled over her eyelids and onto her cheeks. Every breath was shuddered. She didn’t care if he was a vampire. Or what might occur here. She was head over heels in love with him. Every second was a precious commodity.

“Did you read the file we sent over?” The disembodied voice continued.

“I had ten minutes, Sir.”

“Is that a no?”

“I didn’t spend the time reading. No.”

“Would you like to read it now?”

“Why don’t you show yourself, Akron?”

“I’m rarely seen, Bramwell. You know that. It is part of this persona I created. Call it my brand. Image.”

“Make this one of your rare appearances then,” Bram replied.

“Very well.”

A figure materialized from right beside the leather chair. He moved forward, gaining candlelight on his midsection. He didn’t sit in the chair. He was tall. She couldn’t tell how tall. Immense, too. He had wide shoulders. He was dressed in a black suit. The shirt beneath his jacket was so white, it glowed neon. He was wearing a black cape with a hood that shadowed his facial features. And he had a really sharp sword in one hand. Marielle couldn’t breathe. If Bram wasn’t holding onto her, she’d have stumbled back. And then she’d have fainted. Thanks to the Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever tick episode, she knew what fainting felt like. She didn’t like it.

“Marielle? May I introduce Akron Profit? Leader of the Vampire Assassin League. Akron? Miss Marielle Astrid O’Donnall. My mate.”

“Charmed, my dear.”

He nodded in her direction. After a moment, Marielle returned the gesture.

“And now, we can proceed. You have an assignment, Bramwell. I need to know if you are you still refusing it.”

Bram’s fingers tightened on hers.

“I will not kill another kid.”

“I don’t allow insubordination in my organization, Bramwell. It is a rule. You knew that going in. When we met. I told you. Remember?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Are you still refusing?”

“I need Marielle to have safe passage, Sir.”

“Have you turned her yet?”

“No.”

“That’s one thing in your favor. You’re only sentencing her to a lifetime of loneliness with your decision. Not an eternity. Miss O’Donnall?”

“Yes?”

Her voice shook. That was embarrassing. But at least it worked. But nothing stopped the stupid tears. She blinked constantly and with efficiency. He was still blurred and indistinct.

“You will be taken care of. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Bram spoke for her.

“Anything else?”

“Wait.” Marielle’s heart was a solid throb of pain.

“Yes, my dear?”

“What is the punishment if...he doesn’t do what you want? What...exactly?”

Bram turned to her. Leaned down and placed his forehead against hers. Breathed each shuddering breath with her. The only difference was he had dry eyes.

“I will not kill another kid, Marielle. I can’t. The price of redemption is too high. It is the one thing I regret from my actual life. It has haunted me for decades. No level of penance can absolve it. Trust me.”

“Bramwell,” she beseeched.

“It’s all right, love. I promise.”

He looked from her over at the shadowed figure. Marielle did the same. The figure hadn’t moved, but he looked bigger somehow. More menacing.

“Are you going to kill him?” she whispered.

“Well. That is up to him, my dear. All these years, I thought your mate was a melancholy, reclusive sort. I didn’t know he was searching for redemption. He needs to atone. Pay a price. Perhaps I’m setting that price. Right here. And right now.”

His sword moved. The blade sent flashes of light. And then he placed it atop the table.

“Bramwell!” Marielle flung herself against him and started sobbing. After a moment, Bram’s arms went about her. She’d never felt anything as wondrous. Nor as painful.

“Is there life after death, Akron?” Bram asked from somewhere above her.

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure? But...you know everything, Sir.”

Akron chuckled. As if this was amusing. And he wasn’t killing the ability to laugh with every word.

“I can only know what I’ve experienced. Since I’ve never died, I cannot answer you. Quite frankly, I’m hoping the Hindus are correct, and that there is such a thing as reincarnation. And I wouldn’t like to go into particulars, if you don’t mind.”

“Very well. Marielle? You need to leave now.”

“No!” She clung tighter. “You can’t do this! You can’t leave me! I...I love you!”

His arms tightened at her declaration. Her feet left the floor with his hug. She loved him. Totally. Completely. Overwhelmingly. It wasn’t a wonderful feeling at all. It was heartbreak. Desolation. And absolute agony.

“Oh, Bramwell. And Miss O’Donnall. Before we proceed, can I get an opinion?”

“About what?”

The words came from both throats. Simultaneously. They turned toward Akron in a concurrent move, as well. Akron moved closer to the light source. It hit his chin. He was smiling. Marielle’s heart felt like it already had the sword point stabbing into it. Sending pain through every vein. Into every limb.

“My suit. I just picked it up in Milan. Unlike some of the associates, I do like to update my style. Often. Helps me...fit in.”

“You will never fit in, Akron.”

“Please don’t do this,” Marielle inserted.

“I have to. I have a date for drinks in about five minutes. At the Keno lounge. Downstairs.”

“Five minutes?” The word carried every bit of her agony.

“Well. I am cutting it short, but I can always bypass the elevator. I don’t think Missus Susan Stimson is the type you leave waiting. Extremely wealthy, beautiful divorcees usually aren’t.”

“You’re meeting—?”

“What did you just say?”

Marielle’s voice was faint as she interrupted Bram’s question. She was finding out that shock was a physical force, too. It hit like a huge wave of water. Chilling. Refreshing. Renewing.

“What did you just say?” she asked again, her voice stronger this time.

“I said I have an appointment with Missus Susan Stimson. For drinks. She has an appointment with death. This is what happens when you hire an attorney and try to extort more funds from your ex-husband. This is also what happens when your ex-husband is a billionaire with a link to our network. I would allow Bramwell to handle it once he comes out of his shock, but he is a bit... how shall I put it? Noticeable? Yes, that’s a good descriptor. There are some men who seem born to wear western fashion. Your mate is one of them. That does tend to create unnecessary attention where I don’t wish any. Or do I need to be more clear, you two?”