Page 22 of Beneath the Watching

Levon-Ilya lifted a hand and ran it through his hair exposing a deep red streak across his knuckles that was highlighted under the ceiling lights. Dried blood, it looked like. “I won’t,” he said. “I can’t. You sound like my father.”

Stefan reached for his drink and took a sip before placing it back on the table. “Where is she now?”

“With him. At one of his fucking dinner parties.” Levon-Ilya's eyes burned an orange-red, brighter than I’d ever seen on either of the two men. I must’ve made a noise because he suddenly swung them in my direction before returning to Stefan. “Care to share supper?”

A chill ran down my spine at the coldness in his voice. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought I was on the menu.

“Lay a hand or any other parts of yourself on her and you’ll face my wrath. She’s mine.”

A cruel smile broke out across Stefan’s friend’s face. “I have the feeling you’ll start understanding me now, sooner rather than later.” The man glanced at me, dragging his eyes across me slowly, seeming to take me in as if he were using a magnifying glass. Curiosity and an uncomfortable hunger colored his features.

He turned to leave but Stefan caught his arm. “Ilya, this is serious. She caught Julian’s attention.”

Ilya, as I decided to call him due to Stefan’s use of the name, stilled. His olive skin paled slightly, and he glanced back down at me before nodding.

When he turned to leave, he headed in the direction of the exit, and I followed his progress until I couldn’t see the man anymore.

“Don’t come back to this casino,” Stefan said, grabbing my arm roughly.

I wrenched my limb back. “What is going on? Is he Levon or is he Ilya? What’s with the eye thing?”

This time, he was gentler when he grasped me. He was still firm, but I wasn’t in fear I’d lose a limb. “You need to go home.”

“Not until you answer me. He was talking about Kiara, wasn’t he? I know you know something.” I really needed to get back to the dream place and find Kiara. She was clearly in some kind of trouble. I’d do it with or without Stefan’s help.

“He was. What did Julian say to you?”

I was pinned against the table, held in place by Stefan’s intimidating stance. “He just said some strange things about me being Chinese or something. He was singing.” His eyes shutteredand I suspected he rolled them behind his closed lids. “He asked if I was missing something.”

Stefan’s chest rose and fell before he spoke. “What else?”

“That’s...that’s it,” I stuttered. Different emotions ran through me, the feelings I’d shoved down since I was a kid. I’d never been enough for any family, never acted right, wanted too much. My current interrogation dug up the sensation of worthlessness, my lack of being what I should’ve been. Someone like Julian—clearly higher class than me if he was as important as implied, had been wasting his time in my presence. I’d screwed up. Taking a deep breath, I cleared my head.

“I think he just wanted to say hello,” I offered, not knowing what else to say. Self-consciousness washed over me. I’d asked Stefan too many questions and I was thrown back to my childhood directives to be seen and not heard, sit still and be peaceful and beautiful. Don’t ask for anything, be grateful you’re provided for. Don’t cause trouble. The childhood messages played on an eternal loop in the back of my mind, and I knew I shouldn’t listen to them. The thing was, they kept me safe.

He snatched my hand. “I’m bringing you home, you can’t stay here.”

“What? No. What about my friends? Al?”

He scoffed. “I’m sure Al will be just fine.”

Stefan began dragging me through the crowd, in the direction of the exit. “Stop, I’m okay.” I tried to pull away. “Let me tell them I’m leaving.”

He didn’t let go. “I’ll take care of it.”

I was making a scene, and I didn’t like it. Immediately, I stopped fighting him and drawing attention. If Madison saw me being manhandled, she’d lose it and I couldn’t do that to her. Everything was fine, he was just bringing me home.

Stefan pulled a cellphone from his pocket and punched at the screen before lifting it to his ear. “Where’s your car?” I heardhim ask whoever was on the other end. “I’m bringing her home. Okay. Okay.” He slid the phone back.

“You don’t have a car?” I asked. How did he get here?

“No. I’m borrowing one.”

“How did you get here?” My reluctance to ask questions momentarily disappeared as he led me to a bank of elevators.

We stepped inside a lift covered with mirrors. Stefan eyed me in the reflection, and I tried to read him, guess what he was thinking, but I couldn’t. His skin was lighter than his friend’s and yet he was still darker.

The air around him held a weight of determination and domination. The brightly lit interior of the elevator had almost seemed to dim when he’d stepped inside as if he were a cloud blocking the sunlight.

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