Page 76 of Soren

“Turnhere.”

Soren obeyed the order, guiding the car through a busted, wide-open iron gate, onto a long gravel drive. They passed through practically a mile of scrubby pine forest before arriving at what Soren presumed must be their destination.

It looked like someone’s summer hunting cabin. A depressing wooden structure with a vague air of abandonment. Soren could just make out the banks of what appeared to be a small lake behind it. He parked the car, the quiet of undisturbed nature enveloping them. Hendrick didn’t seem to be in any hurry to break Soren’s silence.

To be fair, he generally preferred it when Soren kept his mouth shut.

Soren surveyed the cabin skeptically as they made their way inside. Hendrick must have really been hurting to find a hideout quickly—this place wasn’t nearly as grand and fine as his usual haunts. The living area was poorly furnished, a sprinkling of dust coating every surface. The room’s one redeeming feature was a massive fireplace, almost big enough for someone to roast a whole deer in there, if that was their thing.

Hendrick stopped in the doorway to the living room, gesturing for Soren to enter ahead of him. Soren walked toward the back window closest to the fireplace, affecting an interest in taking a better view of the lake, in reality happy to get as far away from his captor as this horrid cabin would allow.

He stopped in his tracks before he could get there, held in place by a form on the threadbare couch, initially hidden from view by the angles of the room. Soren rolled his eyes.

There was a dead body in this cabin. Not exactly a fresh one either.

He was an older man, probably somewhere in his sixties, waxen face covered with a shaggy beard. The cabin’s owner, Soren assumed. He looked at Hendrick, disgust curling his lip. “Christ, Hendrick! You didn’t bother to clean up after yourself?”

The bigger vampire looked characteristically unrepentant. “I needed him.”

Why the fuck would Hendrick need an accessible corpse? Unless…

Understanding dawned. Every living creature had a distinct scent. At least, Soren had found that to be the case since the day he turned, and his enhanced senses had kicked in. Modern toiletries mucked it up a bit—fruity body washes, floral conditioners—as did feeding. For a brief while after drinking from a human, a vampire could take on subtle notes of their scent.

Soren took it all in. Hendrick’s out-of-character flannel outfit. The days-old corpse in front of them. Was this really how Hendrick had been evading Soren’s notice in town? He’d been masking his scent since their fight, spying on Soren without leaving a trail. Soren might even be impressed if his hatred could allow for it. His ex had never been quite so devious before.

That corpse looked awfully stiff though. “Have you been drinking from a dead man, Hendrick?”

Soren shuddered at the thought. Blood from the dead was…dead, for lack of a better word. Sluggish. Cold. Unfulfilling. It was taboo among their kind. Considered disgusting and gauche. How far gone was Hendrick, to cross that line over and over, just to lurk in the shadows and spy on his old possession?

“Gross,” Soren said out loud, unable to keep it to himself.

“Clean it up for me,” Hendrick ordered, seating himself on the ratty armchair opposite the cabin’s dead owner.

Soren sniffed. “And do you have tools I can use, or will I be digging in the hard ground with my bare hands like some kind of caveman?”

“Just dump it in the lake,” Hendrick suggested airily.

“And have it float right back up in half a day?”

“What do we care? We’ll be long gone by then.”

So Hendrick didn’t intend to stay, then. Good. They weren’t nearly far enough from Hyde Park. They’d barely been driving for a full hour, following winding side roads up north. What was the point of even stopping here?

Hendrick answered that question for Soren with his next statement. “And don’t even think about running off, or I’ll drive right back to your little human. Have myself a fresh meal.”

Soren stiffened. So that was it? Stay in close proximity to Gabe as a threat, making sure Soren remained…docile? It only made sense in the short-term. What was Hendrick planning once they left? Soren thought of the stairs they’d passed on their way to the living room. The bedrooms must be on the second floor. He supposed Hendrick didn’t need very long to get what he came for.

Soren didn’t want to think too hard about that.

“Got it,” he said, walking over to the body. He had to pass the armchair on the way, and he was stopped by a sudden, bruising grip on his arm. It took everything in him to suppress a shudder.

Soren hated this slimy cretin’s touch. He hated even breathing the same air. He hated more than anything that he’d had to touch his fucking mouth to Hendrick’s, and that Gabe had been forced to witness it.

Hendrick pulled Soren toward him until their faces were inches apart. “So pretty, my angel,” he cooed, his voice full of false affection. “I’ve missed looking at you.” He brushed his fingers along Soren’s face.

The beast inside Soren wanted nothing more than to rip this vampire’s fingers right off, maybe his entire arm for good measure. But Soren was at a disadvantage. Hendrick was stronger than him, when it came to brute force. And he was surely looking for a reaction, an excuse to put Soren in his place.

But for once, Soren could be patient. He could be patient for Gabe.

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