Page 37 of Obsessed in Blood
He nodded. “All quiet today, but it’s best if you keep moving.”
“Absolutely. My apologies again, Arnold.”
“Not necessary for you, Miss Brigette.”
I waited until we’d turned down a couple of bends in the path before asking the question Brigette had to expect I’d ask. “What’s that building for?”
She continued for several more paces as if she hadn’t heard me and walked through an opening in the foliage. A view of the ocean came into view. The mainland was visible, and I sighed. Not that far away but too far to swim. I’d expected as much.
Brigette sat on a stump that seemed perfect for the view and studied me again. “It’s where he keeps his enemies. Vampires and others that won’t be missed. Sometimes, an occasional human who didn’t follow the rules. And, of course, there have been a Blood Ward or two who simply didn’t work out but weren’t mentally sound enough to be on their own. Lorenzo took pity on them.”
Blood Wards.Like me?“I don’t understand.”
“Some don’t take the time to understand Lorenzo. How he protects us. Cares for us. They question his rules. I have to admit, Lorenzo can seem rather old school when it comes to his expectations of a lady. And I assume he hasn’t explained his three-rule policy yet. Let’s just say you never want to be reprimanded three times.” She nodded at the path we came from. “It would be impossible to find a House that would accept a Blood Ward that didn’t meet Lorenzo’s exacting standards. So, when necessary, he keeps them as part of his collection.”
I turned my back on her to stare at the mainland. A cold shiver ran down my spine, and goosebumps broke out. A blinding headache hit me, and I dropped to my knees, grabbing my head. It was like someone was poking around in my head, picking through a flash of memories. Some I recognized, others I didn’t. A glimpse of a face in a mirror. It wasn’t mine. It was a man. I couldn’t tell if I was screaming out loud or in my head, but moments later, Brigette shook me.
“What’s wrong with you?” She was yelling back. “You need to calm down and be quiet.”
I must not have complied because she slapped me. Hard.
The headache subsided, and I sank back on my heels, sucking in large amounts of air. When my breathing normalized, I stood and rubbed my cheek.
“Just look what you did to your pants. That’s mulberry silk. Lorenzo will be furious with you.” She grabbed my elbow and dragged me down the narrow path until we reached the stone path. We were almost back to the manor when she stopped and spun to face me. “You won’t say anything about our little detour off the main path. I promise you, you won’t like the consequences.”
I nodded. Who was I going to tell? All I wanted was my bed. A light pounding persisted, and I preferred not doing anything that made it worse. Maybe I suffered from migraines and didn’t remember.
Before we reached the back patio, Asshole stepped out from a side path.
“Where have you been?” He looked angry, and it only got worse when he noticed the dirt stains and frayed material at my knees.
“We went for a walk through the garden and Cressa took a tumble. Heels don’t seem to suit her. I’m surprised Lorenzo would have selected someone so unschooled to become a Blood Ward.”
“Lorenzo has his reasons.” He sneered at me. “Go to your room and get yourself cleaned up. Lorenzo will expect you for dinner this evening.” His gaze moved over Brigette. “You’re looking rather fetching this afternoon. The spa suited you.”
“You are a dear. I had a very relaxing time.”
“You should prepare as well. The master will expect you after his brandy and cigar.” He grabbed my upper arm, squeezing it until the headache returned, and tears stung my eyes. “In fact, let me take this one off your hands. I’ll see her to her room.”
Brigette flashed a million-dollar smile. “You are the best to me.”
Asshole dragged me through the manor and to my room where he opened the door and shoved me inside. I tried to catch myself but twisted an ankle when my heel caught on the rug. I went down—hard.
I glared at him.
He bent over and grabbed my chin. “You need to start doing what is asked of you. The master is not a tolerant man. If I say one word about the condition of your clothes, it could mean your first strike. So, remember this favor I give you. I’ll expect you to return it when I ask.”
He shoved me to the floor before walking out the door. It slammed behind him.
I crawled to the bed and climbed in, curled into a fetal position, and drew the covers over my head. I stayed that way until the pounding in my head ceased and the darkness came.
I wasn’tsure when the headache stopped and the dreams began.
At first, they were pleasant. A young woman running across a beach. Her dress was vintage, her hair cut in a bob, the age of flappers and Prohibition. A man ran behind her, catching her and twirling her around.
The scene changed to a picnic under a young sycamore tree. The woman seemed familiar, but her hair should be longer. The man’s image brought memories of paintings—dozens of them. Some included his face, others just an outline, but they were all the same man.
The images grew darker—fire, pain, screaming. He couldn’t dream, and he tried. Tried so hard. He lived in a cell where there was no light, and when they came to ask him questions, he went to an even darker place.
