I made up my mind earlier I would focus on transporting to Vance’s bedroom again, instead of going directly to Vance. This could alleviate a potential problem of popping up somewhere less desirable, like in a public place or in the middle of a demon coven. I never knew what he could be out doing.
I didn’t close my eyes. I wanted to be completely aware of what was going on around me as I entered his space. Taking a deep breath, I envisioned sitting on the foot of his bed.
The weightlessness overtook me immediately, followed by a cool prickling of my skin and I found myself in the very place I’d asked to go. I looked around quickly, my senses on full alert.
He wasn’t here.
I stood and walked to the window, looking out to see if I could tell anything about where I was located. This was definitely a private residence, not a hotel. The grounds looked vast, and I popped outside to observe the house.
The structure was a turn of the century southern mansion. It looked like the kind of home people would pay to tour. I saw no activity of any kind on the grounds, and while Vance was not here at the time, I was positive he was on his way. He would have felt me immediately.
I popped back into the bedroom, and stealthily made my way out of the door. The place was deathly still and I was pretty sure no one was around, but I was determined to not be caught off guard.
To my surprise, I found the rest of the furnishings in the house were all covered in dust cloths. Apparently, the house had been vacant for a while, if one was to judge from the amount of dust gathered. Vance must’ve decided to borrow the place while the owners were away.
I moved from room to room by evaporation so I could be as noiseless as possible. Each one appeared to be as undisturbed as the next, until I reached the kitchen.
The first thing I saw was a jar of peanut butter next to a bag of bread, and I smiled quietly to myself. He was still eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. That was my Vance.
I walked across the large space to open the refrigerator, looking to see if he still preferred grape jelly as well. I gasped at the sight inside.
While the grape jelly was indeed sitting in the middle of the top shelf, it was surrounded by pints and pints of blood. I noticed then they were labeled and I leaned in closer to read what was on them.
“Female, age 18,” I read out loud on the first one and all of the subsequent bottles directly behind it where from the same donor. “Male, age 32.” I felt sick. It was like he was labeling the vintage of the blood.
I counted each different donor and found thirteen in total. This was the blood of the coven he killed, all packaged up nicely in his fridge. Gross. Maybe this meant he hadn’t killed anyone else though.
“If you’re looking for something to drink, I think you might prefer the tap water,” Vance’s voice floated into the room from behind me.
I wanted to kick myself for being so absorbed in the contents of the refrigerator that I’d allowed him to sneak up on me. Slowly, I turned around to face him, shutting the door to the icebox as I moved.
He was leaning casually up against the door frame, arms folded over his chest, one ankle crossed over the other. He looked completely like his old self … jeans, t-shirt, boots, and all of his normal facial features which I loved so much.
His blue eyes traveled up and down the length of me in appreciation. “You’re looking good, Portia. You’ve been working out,” he commented as if we were having the most normal conversation in the world.
I am the empowered one today. Take control of the situation,
I said to myself mentally before I spoke.
“Thank you,” I replied politely, and I took a couple of steps toward him trying to appear bolder, stronger, and more confident as Hex had been teaching me. “And yes, I have been working out. I’m surprised you noticed.”
He let out a quick grunt. “It’s kind of hard not to notice when you’re wearing an outfit like that.” He pushed away from the wall, walking straight toward me. “You’ve been wearing a lot of baggy clothes lately.”
A sliver of trepidation slipped through me, but I steeled myself to it. I would not move away from him unless he tried to hurt me. My surprise was immediate though when he walked right past me, without so much as touching me, and opened the door to the fridge.
Slowly, I turned to follow his actions, not wanting to leave my back to him. I watched while he picked one of the jars of blood out and placed it on the counter. He then proceeded to the cupboard to retrieve two glasses.
He placed one glass on the counter before he carried the other over to the faucet and filled it with water. After he was done, he filled the glass on the counter with some blood.
“Do you care to join me?” he asked, taking a few steps toward me. He held the glass of water out as he nodded over toward the table.
“Thank you.” I accepted the water from him, and neither of us failed to notice the sparks when our fingers touched each other.
“Let’s sit down,” he suggested. He walked over to the table, pulling a chair out for me before he sat down in one of his own.
This situation had gone from nerve racking to bizarre. It was as if nothing was wrong between us. He was acting like he was in complete control of his emotions, even to the point of being sophisticated. It reminded me of someone else.
Damien, his father, I realized suddenly.
“You’ve been drinking blood—lots of it.” I sat down, watching him carefully. I remembered how Krista told me the Cummings’s secret had been to constantly be consuming blood. It helped them maintain better control of the demon bloodlust.
“This is true.” He tipped his head back to take a large swallow from his glass. “As a matter of fact, I was out stalking a pretty little dark haired witch down the road when you showed up here and ruined all of my plans. I enjoy having a hot lunch once in a while. It just isn’t quite as good when it is cold.” He eyed his glass with a look of disgust before he continued. “I’m certain she would’ve been a feisty one too. It’s always more fun for me when they fight back a little.” His eyes flickered over my body once again.
I was angry with myself for the moment of jealousy I felt as I listened to him talk about the other girl.
He read me instantly. “Don’t worry, baby. I didn’t want her in that way. I’m afraid when it comes to sex you’re the only person I’m interested in. I’ve been one hundred percent true to my marriage vows in that department. Not that it’s doing either of us much good lately,” he said, and I felt the heat behind the meaning in his gaze.
“This hasn’t exactly been my lifestyle of choice either,” I reminded him a bit harshly.
“So what’re we going to do about it?” he asked, taking another sip of blood from his glass.
“I don’t know. I, personally, would like to see you give up this demon lifestyle and try to get some help somehow.”
“Not going to happen,” he replied flatly while he watched me.
“Then I guess we’re at an impasse.” A thread of regret shot through me.
“I guess we are,” he agreed. He quickly tossed back the rest of the contents in his glass before he stood, going back to the counter to refill some more. He placed the pint bottle back into the fridge when he was done. “I’m going upstairs now. Do you care to join me?”
“Why not?” I stood to follow him, leaving my untouched glass of water on the table.
He stood at the doorway and waited for me to pass him, just like any gentleman would, but it made me extremely nervous to walk up the large staircase with him following so close to my back.
I could feel his gaze on me, but I tried not to let my nerves show and attempted to keep him involved in casual conversation. “So how did you end up in this house?” I asked, running my hand over the beautiful mahogany railing.
“Someone in the coven told me about it actually. I guess it’s been vacant for a while. Apparently there was an older couple who lived here. The husband died and the wife moved away to live with her kids.”
“So you decide to just help yourself to the place since no one was here?” I asked a bit accusingly.
“Portia, Portia,” he said with a slight shake of his head while he stepped past. He turned to look at me when we reached the landing. “Why are you always trying to think the worst about me? I’m not a squatter. I bought the place.”
“This is your house?” I was floored.
“Yep. It’s amazing how money can talk, isn’t it? I walked into the real estate office and told them I’d pay cash above the asking price for it, but they had to close the deal in two days or I would call it off. I received the deed this morning,” he said, looking around.
“What could you possibly want an estate this big for?” My eyes were wide in amazement.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe I’ll turn it into a bed and breakfast for traveling witches and warlocks,” he said with a wink and a grin.
“Why? So you can give them a bed and they’ll be your breakfast?”
He laughed then. “Yeah, something like that.” He turned to head toward the bedroom.
“You’re sick,” I said, following after him.
“Hey, you’re the one who thought of it, not me.”
“Oh, you were thinking it,” I said, and he laughed again.
“You’re right, I was.”
I loved hearing his laugh even though it was over such a morbid subject. It made him sound like the old Vance to me.
I entered the door into the bedroom and watched while he placed the glass of blood on the nightstand. Then he turned to face me.
“So why are you here? I thought for sure I scared you away permanently the last time you showed up.” His eyes trailed seductively over my body as he spoke.
“I thought you had too,” I replied, remembering how terrified I’d actually been.
He stepped closer to me, and I was proud of myself for being able to stand my ground.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded, moving to close the gap between us even more.
“I came to see you, of course,” I replied truthfully, my pulse jumping up a notch when he advanced closer still.
“Why?”
“Because I miss you,” I said, knowing that was the truth, even if it wasn’t all of it.
“Are you sure that’s why?” He narrowed his gaze at me. “It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact your family is arriving today?”
My face blanched at that remark. “What are you talking about?” I swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump which had suddenly formed in my throat.
A menacing look flashed briefly over his face before being replaced with his cool mask of composure.
“The first coherent thing I did after I was more in control of myself was to start keeping tabs on your family. I couldn’t find you or even feel you. I knew you’d contact them eventually and they would come running to your assistance just like always.”
My mind was racing as pictures of the worst kind ran through it. What if the members of the Hoodoo coven had already captured them and Hex? My loved ones could be being tortured and destroyed this very moment.
A wave of nausea passed through me and I was angry at myself for not being better prepared for this. Vance had always been smart. I knew he would’ve been watching for them to come. I just hadn’t thought he was watching so he could capture them. I figured he was looking for a way to find me.
My self-assured air faltered now, the bravado slipping from the role I’d been playing. “Please don’t hurt them,” I pleaded with him, hoping he hadn’t already.
“I haven’t … yet. But the rest is up to you and the choice you make right now.”
“What choice?” I asked in a choked voice, my mouth going dry and I found myself suddenly wishing I had the glass of water left downstairs.
“There’s a demon following your family and he’s awaiting a signal from me. If he doesn’t get one—your family will be fine, if he does, he’s to see that every last one of them is slaughtered, including the remaining members of the coven in Arizona who didn’t come.”
I realized with a sinking heart I’d never been the one in control of this meeting. He’d been expecting me all along. I swung my arm out, backhanding him hard across the face.
He barely flinched at my attack, but I saw a bit of fire shoot through his eyes, belying his calm exterior.
“How dare you!” I snarled, taking a step toward him. I reached my hand up to hit him again. He caught me at the wrist this time, easily deflecting the blow.
“Don’t mess with me, Portia,” he warned in a low voice. “This is not the time to play around.”
Anger surged through me at his threats. I wrenched my arm away from him and slammed my booted foot against his. He flinched away from me, and I felt a moment of triumph, advancing as I struck out again.
He grabbed both of my hands and yanked me hard up against him. “Stop it!” he growled. “I don’t want to fight you.”
“Then why are you doing this?” My weakness began to show in the form of tears.
“It’s the only way I know to get through to you—to get you to listen to me,” he replied, releasing me from his grip.
“I’m listening,” I replied flatly.
“Are you?”
“Yes. Tell me how can I keep you from sending that signal?” I stepped backward, sinking to sit on the edge of the bed because my knees were shaking too badly to hold me up any longer.
“It’s simple,” he said, kneeling down in front of me and grasping my hands, his eyes searching mine. “I want you to stay here with me, in this house, and be my wife.”
I snorted. “How’s that even possible Vance? You’d want to drink from me and would probably end up killing me instead.”
His eyes sought mine and I saw some sort of desperation pass through them.
“I want you to let me turn you so that we can be together,” he stated and my blood ran cold.
“Mayla told you to kill me,” I reminded, my stomach lurching at what he was asking me to do.
“I don’t care what Mayla says.” He stood up abruptly, moving away from me. “She’ll understand eventually. She doesn’t know what it feels like when I’m away from you.”