Page 7 of Barely Breathing

Why didn’t Costin stop them? He’s a master vampire. Surely, he could have tracked and subdued werewolves.

What the hell am I going to do about it all?

The elevator’s soft chime as it opens feels like a death knell. I don’t get off until I see the doors starting to close, which prompts me into action. I reach between them, letting the doors bounce off my arm to reopen.

The penthouse is high above the city, with a wall of windows that display the many lights. At night, I like to stare down and imagine I’m looking at stars instead of streetlights and windows. There is a feeling of being removed from those below.

The house smells like cotton candy. I find it odd. My mother, Astrid, likes things a particular way. Our homes are always pristine. The paintings and sculptures are always in the same place. The furniture is unchanging. Since childhood, the only thing different in the penthouse has been the kitchen, which is modernized for our family’s chefs. I think Astrid likes the sense of control the sameness gives her.

Lorelei is my birth mother, but Astrid is marriedto my father and the only mother I’ve known. That makes Astrid Anthony’s mother by birth and mine by… well. Force? What do you call it when a man forces you to take care of his lovechild bastard? For me, Astrid is the woman I thought was my mother until I recently learned the truth.

I see the gray skyline muted by tinted windows. Costin’s eyes flash in my mind, and I hear his voice say, “I will take care of you, Tamara.”

The promise lingers, but so does the question. Why?

Anthony appears from the kitchen holding a tall glass filled with pink liquid. At twenty-nine, he’s a year older than me. His suit is as immaculate as ever, and there’s a looseness to his posture. My brother is all charms and smiles, even when he’s stressed. He’s learned to play his part in this family well. Everything is appearances and duty. It gleams on us like shiny varnish, lacquered over our smiling portraits to hide the canvas underneath. As the magical and legal heir, he hides more than I do. Expectations of the family mortal have always been low in comparison.

Anthony’s face lights up with relief as he approaches me through the living room. He gives me a once-over and smirks. “Nice hair.”

“What are you drinking? Unicorn piss?” I counterwith a grimace. The smell of cotton candy is more pungent now that he’s near.

Anthony takes a sip and laughs. “The new chef had an emergency, so she sent a friend to stand in. Lady Astrid is going to lose her shit when she sees the kitchen. This new guy is making candy smoothies, candy chicken, candy I-don’t-know-what. Apparently, processed sugar is his food niche.”

“So, where have you been hiding, Tam-tam?” Anthony takes another sip of his drink.

“Nowhere.” I try to brush past him, but he blocks my path.

“Costin keeping you chained in his dungeon?” His smile never wavers, but that’s Anthony. Rarely do I see behind his façade.

I force myself to meet his gaze and keep my voice steady. “I’ve been recovering from all that happened.”

Anthony snorts. “Isrecoveringwhat they call kinky vampire action these days?”

I think of spending the week in bed, mesmerized. It’s not exactly the exciting time my brother is hinting at.

“Ah, come on, don’t look at me like that. If I had a hot boyfriend who looked like Costin, I’d never get out of bed.”

I arch a brow.

“I’m teasing,” he says with a wave of his hand. “Here, try this monstrosity.”

He thrusts the unicorn piss into my hand. I don’t want it. My stomach feels nauseous as it is.

“Honestly, where have you been?” he asks.

“I didn’t realize I was expected to report my every move.” I brush past him toward an end table to put the drink down.

“Oh, you’re not. But Astrid was worried.” The lie rolls out of him, but I know it for what it is. “You know how she gets when she’s worried. I, for one, enjoy having my head attached to my neck.”

I give him a bemused look. I highly doubt Astrid was worried about me.

“Fine. I was worried. You weren’t answering my calls,” he admits. “I thought maybe you got trapped underground in the supernatural city or got in a fight with Costin, and he left you stranded on top of the Eiffel Tower or something.”

“Eiffel Tower?” I shake my head at the absurdity. “Anthony, be?—”

“Speaking of drama,” he interrupts. His tone softens, the humor slipping just enough to reveal the concern beneath. “The Freemonts want a hearing before the council of elders. Apparently, you broke poor Chester’s heart when you called off your engagement. To hear them tell it, he’s inconsolable.”

I flinch to hear his name. ChesterFreemont is a gross toad of a man. He only wanted to marry me to be connected to the Devine family.

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