Page 4 of Forever Touched

She shoved a handwritten list at me and a wad of cash, which Igingerly accepted. “I want you back no later than noon. Georgina and Octavia should be up by then, and I want you to supervise their dance lessons again. Octavia especially needs help.” Biting my tongue once more, I nodded and turned toward the kitchen door. Before I could make my escape, she stopped me in my tracks with a stern, “Have you forgotten something, Adalyn?”

Schooling my expression, I faced her with a blank look.

She huffed in annoyance. “We’ve been over this countless times. Every morning, I need to know if you’ve seen or heard anything new at Dreamscape.”

“But the cameras—”

“Can’t pick up everything. Details, Adalyn.Details. You’ve been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We pay you well and expect your full cooperation in return. You should be grateful for this job.”

“Iam.”

“Well, if it’s proving to be too much for you, I could always tell Heath that you can’t handle it.”

“No,” I replied, a little too quickly. Her lips twitched into a faint smile. “I can handle it. I really am grateful to have been given the opportunity.”

She raised a manicured eyebrow expectantly.

Ignoring my lingering headache, I quickly racked my brain and said, “We have a new prospect. He watched me dance for two hours last night and was definitely interested.”

Her brown eyes started glittering with an excitement I’d seen many times before. “And?Details, Adalyn. What did he look like?”

“Um, he was tall and dressed in dark colors. His hair was black, but since he wore a mask, I’m not sure if his eyes were blue or green.”

“Venturi?”

“Definitely. He carried himself like a noble.”

“Did you flirt with him? Let him touch you?”

“I . . . I winked at him.”

“Winked? That’sit?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

The excitement faded, replaced with an ire that made me want to shrink back. She stepped into my personal space and roughly grabbed my chin to hiss, “Is that all? Tell me the truth, Adalyn.”

A familiar pull tugged at my mind, forcing me to say, “That’s all I know. I swear.”

She let go of me with a disgruntled huff. “Sloppy work. I’ll have to dock your pay again for potentially losing us a client. Now leave before I get any more upset. And don’t forget to wear your hat.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. Tugging the baseball cap from my back pocket, I jammed it on and slipped out the door before she could find another reason to punish me. The moment I stepped outside, warmth from the early morning sun greeted me like an old friend. I paused to greedily inhale the fresh, salty-sea air.

Inside the old Victorian-style mansion, the curtains were always drawn, the air chilly and drenched in the coppery scent of blood. My room in the basement was even chillier—since my mistress rarely bothered to “waste money on heat,” as she put it. As a vampire, the cold Maine winters didn’t bother her. The same went for her two grown daughters. I, on the other hand, woke up each morning frozen as a popsicle.

Thankfully, the weather was finally starting to warm up. June was my favorite month here in Glassport, Maine. Everything was blooming, and the tourists were starting to make an appearance. That meant more humans at Dreamscape Lounge, which meant more vampires, which meant moremoney.

This month was also a reminder that another year had passed.That time was still relevant, despite how frozen it felt. In less than two weeks, I’d be twenty-one years old.

The only downside of being reminded was that I’d been here for six whole years. Six years that I would never get back.

As a sudden chill worked its way up my spine, I shook the thought off and turned toward the carriage house that had since been remodeled into a garage. The structure desperately needed a new paint job, but I didn’t dare bring it up to Mistress. I already had a big enough to-do list on my hands. Literally.

I quickly scanned the list before tucking it into my pocket, along with the cash. For three females, they sure drank a lot of blood. My once-a-week trip to Bangor for fresh blood was now becomingtwicea week. Pulling out my keys, I unlocked the garage door and headed for the freezer stocked full of ice packs. I grabbed several and dropped them into a cooler, then popped the trunk of my car to place it inside.

Well, it technically wasn’tmycar. There was very little that I actually owned, but since I was the only one who could go out during the daytime, Mistress had given me permission to use it almost exclusively. The vehicle was a forest green 1960s Aston Martin, one that had been collecting dust for years before I came along. I’d had to tinker with it for countless hours before finally getting it to run again.

Even though the car wasn’t really mine, it still made me feel independent when I drove it. Like I could simply take off and never come back.

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