Wordless: new adult paranormal romance (Age of Blood Book 1) Page 4

  Fay blushed, guessing the pointed suggestion was more than likely due to her stench.

  She’d showered the previous night, when she’d gotten up, but since, she’d been caressed, fingered, and she’d also travelled for hours. She probably smelt absolutely fantastic.

  “Dear William said you had a rough time,” the woman smiled sadly.

  She had a name to label the panty melting face – not that she’d worn any panties, but she was quite certain that if she had, they would have been soaked through at first glance. William. Fay approved; it was a common, yet classic name that somehow suited him.

  “So, I popped some of my bubble bath and salts next to your tub, honey. You enjoy.”

  It was a good thing the woman left then, because Fay choked up a little.

  In the bathroom, once she’d slipped into the delightfully warm, floral, bubbly piece of heaven, she felt her heart constrict thinking about Cece, who was at Vincent’s, certainly not unwinding in a giant tiger claw tub.

  Well, actually, she doubtlessly was asleep: it was somewhere around two or three in the afternoon in Riverville right now. When she woke up in a few hours, she’d have to go get “ready” for the day. Vincent always left instructions – nipple clamps, butt plug, open mouth gag… the possibilities were endless for Cece. Fay had only been required to wear non-penetrative toys that had varied almost every day.

  She cursed resentfully, at herself more than anything.

  No one had left her a list, or asked her to perform any specific task yet her body was awake, craving touch.

  Ignore it. You’re better than that. Better than them.

  She refused to be nothing more than the sexual object Vincent had attempted to turn her into.

  But as Oscar Wilde had written…

  “I want him behind bars, Mike.”

  “Done,” his brother growled. “He’s on the list.”

  William, generally, was the passionate guy in the family, but Michael had one sensitive chord no one should ever attempt to fiddle.

  After the Great Reveal, Michael had practically unanimously been nominated as the best option to fill the position of King of the North American Coven for three reasons: the first was the legacy he carried, the second was his meticulous, cautious nature – a valuable trait he didn’t share with many vampires – and finally, because he was one of the strongest amongst them.

  All that being said, everything that defined Michael – his polite, politically correct façade, his pleasantness – disappeared whenever an idiot broke his one rule.

  The first and only law the King had passed, without even seeking the opinion or the approbation of anyone amongst the patriarchs, had been the law of consent.

  It was pretty simple: no one, human or vampire, lord, servant, or slave, could be sexually touched without granting their partner a clear, enunciated expression of consent. Blood slaves were a grey area that wasn’t actually outlawed, but even the human who legally belonged to their masters couldn’t be forced into sex.

  It was clear that Vincent had completely ignored that law. Fay didn’t even seem to know what consent meant.

  “Anything on Adrian?”

  “Don’t pretend to care, brother. I know your opinion.”

  Mike was probably shrugging on the other end.

  “When you find him, you’ll tell him off, then you’ll get drunk together, kiss and make up. That’s a fact, not an opinion.”

  William sighed. He’d forgiven Adrian on too many occasions for his brother to believe anything he might say.

  But this time, it wasn’t only hearsay Adrian could brush off as exaggerated tales sprinkled with little fact, and the victim hadn’t been a stranger William could consider as an unfortunate but inconsequential bystander.

  It was a child he knew. He’d been there when he’d taken his first step, learnt to read. When he’d been accepted to the Academy, William had proudly paid for his tuition, refusing to acknowledge any protest from his employee. He’d been family – or something close to it. There was no doubt that William would have been considerably more enraged if something had happened to his siblings, but that was because Michael and Charlotte were supposed to live forever, while he’d accepted long ago that his employees had an expiry date. He had them for nine decades, at most.

  Not nineteen years.

  There would be no excuse, no forgiveness. There was only one thing awaiting Adrian now: eternal death. It had taken a while but his eyes were open and he saw that Adrian was a menace to their way of life.

  The phone call had put him in a bad mood, and William needed coffee like a starving sucker needed blood.

  His penthouse, at the top of the newest and highest skyscraper in Manhattan, had two floors; upstairs, above a modern curved staircase without banister, was his space – Charlotte might have intruded a few times, but no one else ever dared, not even the cleaners, which explained why it was so dusty up here.

  He needed to tidy up, or give in and let his staff take care of his room. The bathroom – it might be more accurate to call it a sauna – definitely needed some attention. He was pretty sure some new kind of bacteria might be growing in the tub he hadn’t used since the previous year.

  William sighed, stretching before heading into his seven-meter square shower – the dozen powerful jets fitted in his ceiling managed to wake him up eventually, so he got out, throwing a pair of slacks and a shirt on.

  Zeva always left his laundry on hangers, in front of his door, and it was exactly where the latest lot of clothing still hung.

  By now his brain was focused on one vital point.

  Coffee. Coffee, now.

  He was heading towards the kitchen when his sense of smell called him to the dining room instead; there, he made a bee-line for the pot of freshly brewed nectar of the gods – if there really was an Ambrosia, he was pretty sure it tasted exactly like the first espresso of the day.

  After downing it in one go, his eyes finally cleared up, and he noticed he wasn’t alone in the room.

  “Good evening,” he said, dropping a kiss on each of Zeva’s cheeks; a habit he’d picked up in France, somewhere in the eighteenth century.

  The housekeeper had blushed when she’d been a schoolgirl, and four decades later, she still turned bright red every time.

  “What’s the occasion?”

  As the head of the dozen servants who catered to Charlotte and William – as well as Fay, now – Zeva had plenty to do, so she was only too happy to leave the cooking to the chef he’d hired, but from time to time, she got her hands dirty. He could always tell right away; his chef was fancy, and pretty damn good, but Zeva’s food was real.

  William didn’t need to eat that much – the diet of an anorexic model on crack was perfectly adequate for a vampire of his age – but he helped himself to everything within reach, today. Those fluffy pancakes always made him hard.

  “As if you had to ask!” Zeva rolled her eyes. “That girl,” she added, just when a fresh-faced Fay appeared at the door, “is terrified and exhausted. I figured she could use a little bit of TLC.”

  William stopped mid-chew and gave as many silent clues as he could – tilting his head towards the door, clearing his throat, discreetly pointing – but his housekeeper was determined to finish what she had to say.

  “Pretty gorgeous though. And just your type. I didn’t think you would…”

  Before she could add anything incriminating, William gave up and said: “Annnnd, she’s also right behind you, Zee.”

  Zeva had the decency to look appalled by her slip, but Fay dismissed her apology with a tentative smile and the fervent shake of her head.

  William watched with interest as she took both of the housekeeper’s hands and squeezed them in one of hers. She didn’t say anything, but the gesture made him wonder what he’d missed: she showed reverence and appreciation – two things he so very rarely saw from young folks.

  “Now now, poppet – that’s quite unnecessary. Come, come,” Zeva co
oed, showing her to the head of the long table, opposite his seat. “I made breakfast.”

  Fay glanced towards him, obviously uncomfortable at the prospect of sitting with him, although she was about three meters away. Great.

  William knew he shouldn’t take it to heart; she was entitled to mistrust him, as much as any vampire, but still, it irked him to no end. He tried to send her a non-threatening, reassuring gaze, but he kind of lost the plot, and ended up gawking at her instead.

  She looked fantastic. Her golden skin shone with a new glow, the bags under her eyes had considerably deflated. The grey yoga pants and long-sleeve top covered the body that had been on show since he’d met her, and she seemed… wholesome.

  Naked, at his mercy, he’d just wanted to protect her. Now, he would have loved nothing more than to rip her clothes off.

  That would have been great to ease the whole terrified thing, wouldn’t it?

  “You have no reason to be frightened of me, Fay. None whatsoever.”

  He knew he needed to explain things to her, but first things first.

  “Sit down, eat. We’ll speak when we’re done. Can you join us for breakfast, Zee?”

  Zeva generally had her meals with her family, downstairs, but he guessed her presence would reassure Fay.

  “Sure. Agnes is excited about taking Fay shopping, by the way. It was very kind of you to ask her.”

  William tried a smile, but that one might have ended up as a scowl.

  Agnes. He’d forgotten he’d texted her the previous night. Dammit.

  Agnes, Zeva’s niece, daughter of Hector, his faithful driver, was a personal shopper. He had asked her because there had been no way of commissioning anyone else without having to endure the silent disappointment of the entire Gardiner clan, and he couldn’t trust Fay to choose adequate things by herself. The girl was a country bumpkin, for Christ’s sake! Not to mention that everything he’d seen led him to believe she’d lived naked.

  To his surprise, he’d easily managed to enroll her in the Academy, the only college welcoming vampire and human alike. It only accepted the best and brightest of both worlds; save for a few exceptional individuals, applicants were only considered providing that they were either recommended by an important figure or a wad of cash. For that reason, most of the attendees knew each other – by reputation, at least.

  Fay was going to be an oddity; new, late to enroll, and more importantly, unknown. There would be questions and speculations about her; if she turned up wrapped in the wrong packaging, the other students would just tear her apart.

  Of course, trusting Agnes wasn’t exactly the best idea, either. He knew better than to think she would be above purposefully ruining Fay, if she thought of her as a rival.

  Boy, why was he fucking her again? Half an hour later, she reminded him.

  “No need to thank me. She’s the best.”

  They ate in a silence that was more comfortable than what he’d assumed it would be, but eventually, there was no putting off the conversation he’d apprehended.

  He purposefully started while Zeva was clearing the plates, rather than waiting for her departure. As Fay trusted Zeva, speaking in front of her might convince her of the veracity of what he told her.

  “I have seen a glimpse of the life you led before, so I will understand if you don’t believe me now. In time, you will.”

  He pulled the document he’d stuffed in his pocket as soon as the express courier had delivered it, getting to his feet. Then, he presented it to her, ignoring the way she trembled at his approach.

  “This is a copy, for your use. As you can see, I got it stamped by the court on our arrival. The original has been filed in the Archives.”

  He let her read it. Her frown deepened at first, before disappearing, replaced by an incredulous and enthralled expression he’d seen so many times.

  Eventually, she whispered, “I’m free.”

  He hated her voice; lower, hoarser than what you’d think, when you looked at her, but it was tentative. Pity she always whispered like she was walking on eggshell, when she dared to speak.

  William cursed Vincent again. This woman was the shadow of what she could be. He could see it in the depth of her dark, smoldering eyes. She was the shadow of a vamp. The shadow of a consort. His consort.

  In another life, she would have had a firm voice.

  “Yes, and every door leading out of this building is wide open at night. You can leave anytime. Eventually, you will, I’m sure.” No, she damn well wouldn’t. Ignoring his own fervent interjection, he carried on: “For now though, you need a roof over your head, you need to carve a place for yourself in this world, and you need protection.”

  He didn’t spell it out; from what he’d seen of her so far, he knew she wasn’t stupid. She’d realize he’d meant that an AB neg virgin couldn’t just roam the streets safely.

  “Why would you do that for me?”

  She was genuinely confused.

  “Because not every vampire is a monster; humans aren’t all saints, either. I suspect you’ve met enough of us to believe otherwise, but there’s a very simple reason for that.”

  Her head shot up, and all of her attention was fixed on him. He could see that was exactly what she was desperate for: a reason, something tangible that would explain either her past or her present.

  “You lived under a monster’s thumb. His friends aren’t likely to be nice people, are they?”

  He was reluctant to add that those kind of low-life were purposefully secluded in towns like hers, not looking forward to seeing the accusation in her eyes.

  “I…” she started, but then, she closed her mouth. “I should thank you.”

  It was said reluctantly. As expected, she didn’t entirely believe him, yet. Of course, she wouldn’t. He was used to newly freed humans. He knew the whole process; she would be appreciative soon enough.

  But repeating that fact didn’t mollify his irritation or his frustration.

  “Don’t mention it. Actually, don’t mention any of this business. I’m not fond of deception, but in your case, it’s preferable. If you share that you used to be a blood whore, you’ll see just how cruel humans can be.”

  He could see his words cut deep, she shuddered, and he was kicking his own ass for it. But he’d just thrown a million away just to make sure she was safe; would it have killed her to be grateful?

  His anger lasted less than a second, soon replaced by regret. Damn. Perhaps he should do something about his tendency to lash out before he thought things out.

  He attempted to sound more pleasant: “If you find the idea agreeable, you can attend the Academy. A degree from there will open doors for you.”

  “The Academy,” she repeated, her soft, still half-whispered tone revealing she knew exactly what institution he was referring to. “I thought you had to enlist like, five years in advance.”

  He shrugged. She was right, but her transcript, his cash and his name had made that a non-issue. Truth was, there were twenty-five people in each lecture, when the classes could easily have welcomed twice as many; the dean had been known to make exceptions for the right people.

  “I really am grateful.”

  Her voice was just as hesitant, but she lifted her eyes, meeting his gaze to let him know she meant it, this time. He saw it. He also saw her distrust. She was trying to work out his angle, decide what he wanted from her.

  William sighed, and turned away to lock himself in his office, before he snapped again.

  It wasn’t her fault – it was Vincent’s – but damn if her low opinion of him didn’t piss him off.

  Five

  “You’ve hollered, boss?”

  The woman in front of his door was dressed to kill, four inches red stilettos and all. They made her long legs appear fucking endless, in that tight, short skirt. Agnes being Agnes, the ensemble didn’t even look slutty: she wore it with a long blazer over a conservative blouse. The perfect mixture of professional, efficient, and sexy. Just
a glance and everyone accepted her; she was posh enough for her peers to be impressed, and not too obnoxious either, so no self-conscious madam felt the need to mess with her.

  That’s the kind of clothes he wanted for Fay: an armor that wouldn’t betray just how fragile she was.

  “Yes. I need to speak about the girl you’re taking today. She’s an old friend’s protégée. He lives in the country, and she’s been accepted to the Academy, so she’s staying with me.”

  While it definitely skirted around the truth, it was mundane enough so that anyone would buy it, and if questions were asked, Fay could stick to some facts, at least.

  “Ok. What kinda thing do we need, then?”

  “I paid off the airline to lose her suitcase. There was flannel involved.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Afraid not.”

  He figured laughing at Fay’s expense would endear Agnes to her; for now, anyway. Eventually, when she knew he’d offered her a room up in the penthouse, when she saw the way he looked at her, she’d start being a bitch, but beforehand, he needed her to do her job effectively.

  “Ok. So, we need everything. Total redo, from bottom to top. With eveningwear, too?”

  William nodded, genuinely amused by the woman’s excitement.

  “Tell me there’s no limit on that card,” she begged when he pushed a shiny black credit card her way.

  “There’s no limit on that card. Go all out. Have fun. Go to a spa if you have time. Buy yourself something, too.”

  “Damn.”

  Some women got that look in their eyes when they saw flowers, for others, it was chocolate. For Agnes, it was shopping sprees – simple as that. He liked how honest, unashamed she was. What you saw was exactly what you got.

  She glanced at him underneath her lashes and licked her lip, strolling on his side of the desk.

  “I think that’s definitely worth a show of gratitude, don’t you?”

  She fell to her knees, opening his crotch, and wrapping her lips around the dick that had been hard for almost twenty-four hours straight. William crocked his head as he observed her, wondering why he was considering stopping her.