6. Emmanuel

CHAPTER SIX

EMMANUEL

I was flat on my back, staring up at the upholstered lid of my coffin, waiting for Mother to come and open it and let me out.

Only she was gone, and the coffin wasn’t locked from the outside, and that knowledge had roiled through my belly all day long. I wasn’t safe. I might escape, land in trouble, burn in?—

No. No. None of that. I didn’t have to hold myself to her delusions anymore.

I could open my coffin on my own, even as unease twisted through me to be so exposed.

The hinges creaked as I eased it open, and I sat up, staring around my dark room. It was a small, simple, room, unlit candelabras on the side table that—that Mother usually lit before she let me out at night.

This wasn’t one of the rooms meant for living . There was no farce of life, no furniture, no comfort. It was merely where I slept, where I spent the long daylight hours dead to the world.

As I sat there, I pricked my ears for the sound of Knox downstairs. Vampire hearing was superior to what I remembered from being human, but it was still not good enough to tell?—

Had my compulsion worked? Was he down there now, or was I alone in this place?

A shiver ran through me and I crawled out of my coffin.

For the first time, perhaps ever, there was a reason to go through the motions of preparing for the night. Mother had not let me leave the house unchaperoned, and she disliked when I preened and primped and tried to polish my appearance. She thought I was trying to catch roving eyes, behaving not as a man, but like a foolish girl who knew nothing of the ways of the world. She’d abhorred it, and in time, I’d simply stopped trying.

I’d let my hair hang loose, uncombed, let my clothes wrinkle, walked around the house forlorn and barefoot, dragging like a ghost between rooms that held no interest for me.

But now, I had company. He had to return—it was the gift of the blood, I told myself, the same compulsion that had allowed my mother to dictate my every move for centuries, and I would not be alone. I had every reason in the world now to comb my hair.

So I did. Assiduously.

Perhaps I couldn’t see myself in a mirror, but I could still try to look presentable for my guest.

I wore my best waistcoat and though my trousers were threadbare at the knees, I hid their frayed cuffs in knee-high boots and—yes, good enough. Had to be. He would find me impressive and romantic and alluring and I would not be alone.

I wouldn’t be.

As I made my way downstairs, I heard the quick rapping of his heel against the floor and smiled. He was there ! He’d returned.

Mine, mine, mine , I wanted to sing to the rafters.

But he was there, and I meant to impress him. I didn’t trust my singing voice to do that.

At the door to the drawing room, I cleared my throat, and Knox sprang off the couch at once.

“What did you do to me?” he demanded the moment he saw me, fists clenched at his sides.

My gaze dropped to them briefly, but I was faster than he was. Stronger, most likely, given how recently I’d fed and how recently he’d fed me.

He posed no real threat, so I met his eye once more and smiled. “I gave you my blood, darling. It healed you, and it made you my own.”

“I can’t—you’re fucking controlling me,” he hissed.

I scoffed, leaning against the back of a chair, my fingers digging hard into the cushion of it. “Did I not give you exactly what you came for?”

Knox’s mouth snapped shut, his jaw flexing in his anger.

“Tell me,” I pressed, “is your sister’s debt settled?”

“Yes,” he sneered between his teeth.

“And you’ve taken care of her?”

He swallowed hard, looked away, but in the end, he couldn’t resist answering me, even as he pressed his fist against his belly. I knew that feeling all too well, like snakes in your gut every time you tried to exert your own will.

“She’s in rehab.”

“Rehab?”

“Rehabilitation.”

I frowned. “I’m not familiar.”

“For drugs. She was on drugs.”

“Like opium?”

He let out a short laugh. “Sure.”

“And they didn’t . . . help her?”

“Definitely not.”

“But the money did.”

He growled. “That is not the point. You—” He looked at the fireplace, haunted by something I couldn’t see.

“It’s why you weren’t upset when I killed her,” he said quietly.

I flinched, all that fresh blood in my veins turning to ice. “What?”

“Your mother was controlling you, wasn’t she?” He rounded on me, eyes wide, tilted grin triumphant. “That’s why you weren’t upset? And now, it’s what you’re doing to me.”

The wood beneath the cushion on the back of the chair groaned and cracked under my hand. “I am not!”

It broke, and I pushed the whole chair aside, toppling it over and stalking into the room as Knox scrambled back. His shoulders hit the wall beside the fireplace and I shoved myself against him.

“It is not the same,” I sneered, pushing up on the balls of my feet so I was only inches from his face.

Knox, despite fleeing from me a moment before, stuck out his sharp chin. He was taller than me, and had to peer down his nose to keep my eye. “Then why are you so upset right now?”

I—I couldn’t say. But I was , and it took every ounce of my self-control not to shove my hand through his chest and grab his heart just to show him how it felt when someone else had your very life in their hands.

But he was... he was handsome and warm, and he’d come back, and he was mine . There was no one else. Without him, I’d be alone. Couldn’t hurt him. Couldn’t?—

I snarled, pushing a hand against his chest to keep him pinned to the wall.

“It is not the same,” I whispered, deadly quiet, “because you may keep your days, your life, your sister, all the money you want, but I will have your nights.”

When I shoved back from him, he grunted at the pressure and rubbed his stomach again. I turned away, toward the empty fireplace, a headache pulsing behind my eyes.

“Upstairs,” I growled. “The master suite. At the end of the hall. Draw yourself a bath, clean up, then get in bed.” If he was not happy about this, fine. How many years had I spent unhappy with my lot? I’d never even had the leisure to really look at a man.

I shook myself. Time enough tonight for that, at least. “Naked. I’d inspect every inch of my new plaything.”