Page 51 of Soulmates
“All of you?” My voice squeaks, which pisses me off even more. “We’re all just going to hop on a plane and go visit Dad?”
Sheena’s staring at the floor, and I begin to wonder how bad her injuries are. I know her well enough to guess that she’d be the walking dead before she’d admit she couldn’t help.
Connor doesn’t look up from his phone. “I’m arranging for three tickets, one with vampire accommodations, and we’ll fly tonight.”
“I want you here in case things go sideways, Sheen.” Trajan layers on the emphasis, giving her an out but at the same time begging her not to fight him.
She sets her mug down with a wince. “Yeah.”
The situation is racing out of my control. “But what if someone comes after her here? And how the hell will I explain a vampire and a phouka to my father?”
“I’m not a phouka,” Connor says, like somehow that answers everything.
“And I’m the guy your father hired to keep you safe, which, despite myself, I’ve managed to do. I don’t think we need any more explanation than that.”
Connor looks up from his phone. “We’ll need to leave as soon as it’s dark enough to travel.”
The weight of the vampire’s stare is comforting, though I try to ignore him. And honestly, Connor’s efficiency is reassuring, too. I’ve never called a meeting with Dad before, and I’ve never been to his DC offices. All these moving parts make me nervous, so I guess having bodyguards while I figureout what’s going on makes sense.
Not that anything in the current situation really makes all that much sense.
Nevertheless, I call my father’s office and make an appointment with his receptionist, and I text Abby to let her know I’ll be traveling. Then I turn the phone off so I won’t be tempted to tell her anything else.
Abby would never sell me out, but someone close to her might.
OXO
Two hours later, I’ve got a new set of casually professional threads and a wallet with ID and a credit card. The Securitas works quickly. My suit didn’t survive the meeting with my uncle, and while I do have stuff in Sheena’s storage locker, none of my party clothes are really Dad-appropriate anyway. Now, my trousers are slim and show off my ass, my shoes are Doc Marten thick-soled oxfords, and my silky crew-neck shirt is the perfect color teal for my eyes. They even brought me an overnight bag with a cute pair of plaid pajamas.
Someone did their homework.
We’ve congregated in the front room, waiting for a pickup to go to the airport. Connor’s in his brooding chair, Sheena’s leaning in the doorway, and Trajan and I are on the couch. Connor checks his phone for the 4,576thtime, and fixes Trajan with a glare.
“Have you fed from him?”
Trajan flicks a rando clump of hair out of his face and glares right back. “Not your business.”
I’m busy trying not to look too mortified.I mean, come on, Connor. Whynot just ask how often I take it up the ass?
Connor worries his lower lip, like he’s not sure if his next idea will light a powder keg or not. “Look,” he says, “that tracking thing. You can still do that, right? With me?”
The fierceness of Trajan’s scowl could be measured on the Richter scale, but he answers. “I didn’t bother trying because you were dead.”
“I get that.” Connor ducks his head, massaging the back of his neck with one hand. I know what he means. The tension is killing me.
“But you fed from me last night,” Connor says. “If I took off now, would you be able to find me?”
A long pause. “Yes.”
Sheena mumbles something that might be derogatory, but I’m not sure who she’s aiming at.
I start picking at little pills in the couch’s brocade upholstery. As much as I wanted Trajan to feed from me, not here, and not now, and not for this reason.
“Do it.” Connor’s tone doesn’t allow for any wiggle room.
I freeze. Trajan scowls.
“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Sheena’s departure feels like a betrayal. “Connor’s right, Trajan,” she calls over her shoulder.
