Page 120 of His Dark Vendetta

“Coming!” Anna’s muffled voice and frantic footsteps echoed through the thick mahogany. Moments later, locks clicked, and the door swung open. “Siobhan!” Anna said, breathless and flustered.

She ushered me into the austere penthouse and hurriedly shut the door. Sophie appeared as if on cue. Her purrs and headbutts to my calves made my throat burn and tears well, this time with relief. But I refused to let go. If I let go, I’d devolve into a complete mess, and I wasn’t about to let that happen. I was the strong one. I wasalwaysthe strong one.

I took a deep breath, swallowed the burn, and blinked away the tears. “Hi, Anna.”

She laid a hand on my arm and looked me up and down. “Oh, honey.”

I could only imagine what I looked like. Rumpled. Covered in Luca’s blood. Makeup smudged from crying. Hair askew. “Yeah, it’s…” I took another deep breath. “It’s been a day.”

“You—you need Sophie snuggles.” She reached for my purse, and I absently handed it to her. “But let’s get you cleaned up first.”

“Yes, please. I feel like every inch of me that isn’t covered in dried blood is covered in dried sweat.”

She grimaced. “Come on.”

I followed Anna to the back of the penthouse, behind the partition that separated the open living space from the dressing area and kitchen.

“Everything I own is going to be too big and too short on you.” She stopped in front of a walk-in closet the size of my bedroom and rifled through a dresser. “Here’s a pair of shorts and my comfiest sweater.”

That’s what did it—the little goose’s sweater. The floodgates opened, and I doubled over sobbing.

“Oh, honey.” Anna rubbed my back in circles between my shoulders. “Let it out. Just let it out.”

Did I ever. The pent-up shock and fear and worry poured out in tears, a runny nose, and high-pitched wails. And through it all, Anna stood by my side, hand on my back in quiet, unwavering support. Like a friend. Like family.

Eventually, my uncontrolled crying slowed. I allowed myself two final, stilted sobs, then straightened myself out. Anna darted into the bathroom and came back with a handful of tissues.

“I—I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.”

I blew my nose and waved a hand through the air. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I just needed to get that out. I feel better now, honestly. I’ll feel even better once I get cleaned up.”

She led me into a spacious marble bathroom complete with a jacuzzi tub. She filled it with steaming water and bubbles scented with a hint of rose. I sank into the bath and soaked away the remaining tension and stress. I washed off the blood, sweat, tears, and emotions until all that was left were the memories of the day’s events and the conclusion that I had to deal with a new reality. A reality in which Luca and my baby were blood demons.

I emerged from the bathroom a new woman, one who had to accept that another world existed, one she knew very little about. A world that belonged to the man she loved, and a world that belonged to her unborn child. I wanted to learn everything I could about blood demons, so I could be the kind of mother my baby deserved. Luckily, I was about to spend the night with the best possible teacher.

Anna sat on top of her and Marco’s bed propped up against the headboard. Glasses covered nearly half her face. She dropped the paperback she’d been reading into her lap and patted the bed next to her. Sophie lifted her furry head and glared at the source of her disruption.

“You’re in here with me and Sophie tonight,” she said.

“What about Marco?”

“He’ll be out all night given”—she swallowed—“given everything.”

I climbed onto the bed. It was soft and the sheets were cool, like being cradled by a luxuriant cloud. Anna put her book and glasses on the nightstand and scooted down to rest her head on a pillow facing me. I did the same.

She stroked Sophie’s fur, and the little gray-and-white attention whore started purring like nobody’s business.

“Is Luca really forty-two?” I asked.

“Yes, he’s really forty-two.”

“And Marco?”

Anna’s lips twitched. “Marco’s… a little older.”

“And by a little you mean…”

“He’s, uh, ninety-four.”

---