Monster (A Cassidy Edwards Novel - Book 1) (2 page)

With an involuntary gasp, I jerked back, stunned.

One of his brows lifted in surprise and his exquisite eyes zeroed in on mine.

Part of me felt time stop as I gaped up at him. An eternity passed even as the other part of me knew it could only have been a second before I attempted to dive back into the crowd surging around us.

But I didn’t succeed.

With the corner of his lip curling upwards, his strong hand lashed out to clamp down over my wrist.

I’m strong—much stronger than a human. It’s a vampire trait that I had inherited, along with the ability to run like the wind.

I twisted my hand, but I couldn’t break free.

Alarmed, I glanced back up at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring straight ahead with his lips still curved into a half-smile.

“Your name?” he asked in a calm, deep voice, with just the hint of a British accent.

I lifted my own brow. Did he really think I’d just volunteer my name?

With his eyes still locked in front of him, he bent towards me. Close. I could see the veins on his neck pulsing. The smell was enough to send shivers down my spine, along with sizzling spasms of heat. It was almost as if he were teasing me, tantalizing me with what I couldn’t have. He was so close. I could feel my hot breath bouncing off his neck back into my own face, carrying with it his intoxicating aroma. My fingers twitched, wanting to touch his chest once again, just for a little nip.

The woman at his side unexpectedly came to my rescue.

“Luuucian!”
 she whined. “Are we going to the jewelry store or not?”

Lucian? It was an odd name. It sounded archaic. Shaking my head to clear his scent out of my fogged-up brain, I asked in amusement, “Lucian is 
your
 name, then?”

His eyes pierced mine.

I found his scent suddenly overwhelming. Shrugging him off, I broke free of his grasp and disappeared into the swarm of humans.

Lucian.

He’d wanted my name. Now, I had his. There was a satisfying sense of justice to that.

But he and his white-hot mana were particularly hard to forget. He stayed in my mind as I fell into step behind a group of hyper teenagers. They were clearly up to trouble. Dipping into their mana would actually be a community service. Although, after smelling Lucian, it was like giving up Zagat’s top-rated twelve course meal for cheap convenience-store donuts—the kind that come squished in thin plastic wrappers.

It didn’t take long. I guess I must have been a bit distracted and helped myself to more than my usual, because after I’d finished, they all looked green-faced and complained about a sudden onset of food poisoning.

My hunger brought under control, I revisited the ATM to eye my pitiful balance once again. I only had twenty dollars left in my account. I was going to have to get another job or move again before my landlord could complete the eviction process. Even though I didn’t buy food, I still had to pay for a place to lay my head and take a shower.

For the briefest of moments, something on the ground caught the corner of my eye. A lizard? I wasn’t certain. It slipped around the side and disappeared behind the ATM before I could be sure.

Frowning, I quickly made my way to one of the tables in the food court. Maybe I was suffering some kind of ill effects from the teenagers’ mana. Maybe they’d been a bit more contaminated than I’d thought. I’d learned to avoid drunks and druggies a long time ago—it was the equivalent of eating junk food, or worse.

Sliding down, I closed my eyes for a quick internal check. Everything seemed normal, so I expelled a breath to relax and think of other things.

Like Lucian.

What was he? Had it been my imagination?

I knew that was impossible.

But what did that mean?

He wasn’t like Blair. Her mana was like a chameleon, reflecting the energy of her latest victim, but also holding a unique emptiness that I now know was the essence of death. Without a beating heart, vampires were incapable of generating their own mana.

No, Lucian’s mana was his own. And even though I’d touched him for only a millisecond, I’d felt his heartbeat.

And vampires moved about only at night.

I glanced up at the skylights above me, which revealed the clear blue skies of Philadelphia.

So, just what 
was
 Lucian? What had I experienced there?

Excitedly, I sat bolt upright.

Was he like me? One of the Damned? Could it be that I wasn’t 
alone
 after all?

“Cassidy Edwards,” a deep voice purred in my ear, a voice with the hint of a British accent.

Startled, I glanced up to see Lucian hovering over me. Placing a large shopping bag on the floor between us, he moved to sit down in the chair directly across from mine.

No one ever took me by surprise. I always smelled their mana long before they even got close, even my mother’s—as unalive as she was.

Yet Lucian sat there now, just an arm’s length away, and I smelled nothing.

Nothing
.

I frowned.

He looked terribly amused. “May I call you Cass?” he asked with a self-satisfied smile.

“No,” I replied evenly and took a deep breath.

I 
still
 smelled nothing.

I knew very well that the striking man before me had the most powerful fragrance that I’d ever encountered. I’d picked him out from the virtual ocean of humanity on aroma alone just an hour before.

“Well then, Cass,” he continued easily, sprawling back to extend his long legs and casually clasp his hands behind his neck. “I’ve come to offer you a position. A job.”

I didn’t really hear him at first. I was extremely distracted. And I had questions of my own. Placing my hands on the table, I leaned forward and asked in a low voice, “Who are you?”

“Lucian,” he answered simply. Smugly. He clearly knew I was rattled and was relishing every moment of it.

Abruptly, I remembered that he’d called me by my name.

“You’re full of surprises,” I said, suspicion growing. “How do you know my name?”

I really didn’t expect him to answer—and of course, he didn’t.

“The job pays well,” he continued pleasantly, but his voice had taken on a different edge, leaving me with the distinct impression that the 
pay
 referred to something other than money.

I was intrigued.

“Pay?” I repeated. What exactly was he offering me? Just 
who
 was he?

I waited with bated breath.

His lip twitched and then his gaze roved over my face in a lazy, slow manner and lingered on my lips before he lifted his eyes once more to mine. Taking a business card out of his pocket, he slid it across the table and stood up.

“If you’re interested, come to my office tomorrow and we’ll have a chat,” he said, reaching for the shopping bag on the floor.

A flash of red caught the corner of my eye, and I glanced down.

The shopping bag contained a doll—a marionette. A female figure with a ghoulish grin, a bright red dress, silver heels, and a white fur stole.

Staring at it, I recalled the woman who’d accompanied him before.

My eyes widened in bewilderment, and I looked up.

But he merely nodded and was gone.

I leapt to follow him, but he was soon lost in the crowd. Searching in all directions, he was nowhere to be found, and not even the smallest whiff of his scent was left behind.

One of the Damned

With one foot still in the taxi cab, I inspected the modern glass office building rising before me—the epitome of big business—and glanced down at the card I held between my fingers.

Lord Lucian Rowle

Rowle Industries, Ltd.

That’s all it said.

Not even a phone number.

When I’d searched for 
Rowle Industries
 online, I’d found a brief description of a privately-owned corporation that apparently had something to do with imports and exports. An official site consisted of a single page with nothing but the graphic of a family crest. Further research traced the coat of arms to a castle far away in Wales. Castle Llewellyn—a sprawling estate proclaimed as a Heritage Site and now under the control of the British Government.

And that was it.

I stood there, surveying the mirrored-glass-and-steel structure perched in the middle of a broad expanse of flawless green lawn. There wasn’t a single cloud in the bright blue sky behind it. The entire place looked surreal, like some photoshopped advertisement. It stood out like a sore thumb from all of the older, rundown office complexes clustered around it.

“Hey lady, are you getting out or not?” the old, crabby cab driver barked at me from inside the cab. “I’ve got a job to do here.”

I ignored him.

As a rule, I identified all escape routes before entering a potentially dangerous place—in case I needed to make a quick exit. And if I really 
was
 dealing with another person like me—one of the Damned—I needed an extra dose of caution.

I stood there—taking an inventory of exits—when a man stepped out of the building’s revolving door. He was your typical middle-aged businessman—wholly nondescript in a suit and tie. Gray pants. Jacket over one arm.

But what dangled from his 
other
 arm entirely captivated me.

It was a marionette, the one I’d seen in Lucian’s bag. The one in a red dress, silver heels, and a white fur stole.

“How lovely the sun feels, doesn’t it, 
dear?
” the man asked as he began to walk her down the sidewalk.

Extending his hand, he rocked the puppet’s handles in a crude attempt to make it walk, but the feet instantly became entangled. With a grin bigger than the Cheshire Cat’s, he laughed and gave up to drag the marionette behind him. Striding past me without even once looking in my direction, he hopped into the back of a shiny black Mercedes that apparently had been waiting for him, and then they drove off.

“Laaady, hey, lady!” the cab driver barked yet again, slapping his hand on the steering wheel and tapping his horn this time. “In or out? Cause I’m leaving now!”

“Out,” I said, intrigued by the marionette.

I glanced up again at the glass office building. I really didn’t feel in any particular danger. Lucian might be stronger than me—maybe—but I felt that I could hold my own, and my curiosity was overwhelming.

Slamming the cab door shut, I headed up the sidewalk.

It was time to find out just how Lucian had known my name, exactly what kind of job he was offering, and most intriguing of all, just 
who
 he was.

As the taxi sped out of the parking lot, I walked up to the building’s entrance and inspected my reflection in the mirrored door. I’d ditched my usual black leather, opting instead for a crepe, cream-colored blouse and a short wool pencil skirt that highlighted my legs encased in long leather boots.

I never went anywhere without my boots. They weren’t a fashion statement; they were a necessity. I hid my knives there. Silver-bladed knives, knives that could halt vampires in their tracks—or so I’d read. In any case, they were my health insurance plan.

“What I won’t do for a job,” I muttered under my breath.

Putting aside my interest in Lucian, I did 
desperately
 need a job. Since leaving my mother’s house, I’d had a variety of them. The only thing they’d had in common was their duration. Short. I was always on the move, and when I wasn’t working, I spent every free moment I had researching vampires in the hopes of learning more about Emilio. I’d been let go from a receptionist gig the previous month. But I’d been thinking it was time to leave Philadelphia anyway—only that required money. Money I didn’t have.

I paused a moment, resting my fingers on the handle of the revolving door.

It was one of those fateful moments in life, and I knew it. My gut told me that if I walked into that building, my life would change forever.

It only spurred me on.

It was time to see exactly what Lord Rowle had in mind.

With a ripple of excitement coursing through me, I entered boldly.

A cool, muted environment greeted me. Modern, metallic sculptures. Slate tile. A floor-to-ceiling saltwater fish tank. Potted ferns. Low, curving modern couches.

There was no sign of security, a receptionist, or anyone else.

There was only a door.

Without breaking my stride, I headed for it, and I’d just reached for the handle when the door opened, swinging back silently.

I didn’t see them at first.

Seeing only the elegant simplicity of the room splayed out before me, I took a methodical inventory: a sleek glass desk with an Italian leather chair, a low, modern couch, and an exotic-hardwood conference table surrounded by twelve tall-backed chairs. Floor-to-ceiling windows covered two walls and a humungous slab of
Carrara marble spanned the other. It took me a moment to realize that the wall was actually a fountain and the source of the soft, bubbling sounds that whispered throughout the room.

I only saw them then.

I noticed Lucian first, standing in the corner to my left with his arms folded behind his back and with that same superior smirk hovering on his attractive face. He wore dark clothing. He oozed sophistication. Culture. And he’d drawn his long black hair back into a ponytail in a way that accentuated the hard line of his chiseled jaw. His unbuttoned collar drew my eyes to his Adam’s apple. He looked incredibly appetizing.

I forced myself to look away.

I couldn’t let myself care for men like that. I lacked control. I couldn’t even kiss them. It was too tempting. It took only a matter of moments before my interest shifted and I viewed the object of my desire as more of a succulent morsel than a passionate lover.

Corralling my thoughts, I directed my gaze to the man standing behind Lucian.

He could only be described as a surfer dude who appeared to be in his late thirties. Blond hair, white shell necklace, a faded Hawaiian shirt, and ripped blue-jean cutoffs. His jeans weren’t the only things ripped. His shirt was open, displaying his washboard abs for the entire world to see.

He slouched against one of the windows, but he was ignoring me. His attention was focused on the small green lizard wrapped around his finger.