Page 69 of Bitten Vampire
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I sinkonto the front steps, soaked in blood. I don’t dare go inside. I will track gore everywhere, and I don’t want to leave in case we have missed someone. I know they were the bad people, but…
I can’t stop trembling.
Time passes. The blood dries on my skin and flakes away. Shock pins me to the step. Near midday, Beryl clamps to my palm and goes still.
The front door opens.
“Fred?” Valdarr says gently.
I lift my eyes. He stands just inside the threshold, careful to stay away from the light. He isn’t wearing his protective ring.
“Hey,” I croak.
“Are youall right?”
No. “I broke Rule Nine, curfew and conduct, and probably Rule Seven, conflict resolution. Baylor hates the courtyard stones; he needed the toilet. We went out; Lee cleared it. We stumbled on intruders. They overwhelmed your day security.” I point—hand shaking—at the fallen forms beyond the hedges. “Lee and—” I flap my hands helplessly. “Oh gosh. I can’t remember his name.”
“Oscar,” Valdarr supplies quietly.
“Oscar. They are gone. All of them. I checked. They fought hard, took some attackers with them, but in the end…” I swallow. “They wore the same gear as the clan hit squad from the other night. You must recognise it.”
“Come on,” he says softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I stare into the garden. “What if they come back?”
“They won’t. When the time check was missed, extra security was dispatched. A full squadron is on the grounds now; they will take care of the fallen. Come inside.”
“But I’m so dirty,” I whisper.
“Come on.” He adds the magic words: “Baylor looks hungry and thirsty. Come on, sunshine.”
I rise, walking up the steps on leaden legs. My bones ache. He takes my hand, pulls me into his arms, and gives me the biggest hug.
“You are safe now.”
“I was so frightened that they would hurt you.” I cling to him. “At least I didn’t burn anything down. I’m so sorry I broke all your rules.”
He lifts me and carries me through the house into my suite.
“The windows!” I gasp.
“All the glass is safe within my properties; the sun can’thurt me.” He sets me on the bathroom mat, grabs a towel, and turns on the shower. “Get clean. I’ll leave clothes outside the door and feed Baylor. It’s the stuff from your bag, right?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“No bother.” Valdarr kisses me on the top of the head and closes the door.
Under the hot water, I sob until the water runs clear and my fingers prune.
Squeaky-clean and dressed, I emerge to find he’s made pancakes, cut fresh strawberries, and on the table is syrup. He nudges a glass of orange juice towards me.
“I presume you eat during the day?”
“Yes, thanks,” I say, though I’m not sure I can eat—I simply don’t want to be rude. For him this is an ordinary day: fighting for his life, killing assassins—just another routine. None of it feels real. I sit, pick up a fork, and my hand trembles. “But nothing within four hours of sunset—otherwise I feel a bit sick when I… die for the night. Did you make these yourself?”
“Of course. Is this all right? I can make you something else.”
