Page 45 of Cloak of the Vampire
Still, it wasn’t like I did anything wrong. It was Ragnor who grabbed me and pulled me into that room ... “I think you’re mistaken,” I said slowly. “Ragn—our Lordand I were simply talking—”
“I didn’t allow you to speak,” she interjected with a snarl, taking a few steps toward me until she was so close that I could see the slivers of gray in her green eyes. “You’ve been a nuisance to the Lord, toLogan, and everyone else since you came here,” she hissed, “and it seems that even after everything, you still didn’t learn your lesson. I’m warning you”—her eyes grew large and furious—“you better start knowing your place.”
She stepped back and gave me a disgusted once-over. “Whatever the two of them see in you, I will never understand,” she said as her gaze returned to my face. “IfIcan’t have them, no one can—especially not a useless noob like you.” She sneered. “You better remember that.”
Two of them,she’d said. Could she have figured out Logan and I knew each other from before? Did she know about our past relationship?
I sure as fuck hoped not. Otherwise, this was going to be one hell of a problem.
The next day, coincidentally, I had no class and, for once, no shift in the kitchen. So for the first time since I’d become a vampire, I had the entire day just for myself.
After eating breakfast, I left the cafeteria and debated whether I should visit the Common residence lounge or go to the arcade I’d heard Jakob and Bryce talk about yesterday in class. I was halfway to the lounge when I recalled Abe mentioning a greenhouse in one of his classes.
Decision made, my steps hastened as I made my way to the workshop floor, where I could find what I wanted. Once I had what I needed, I took the escalator near the cafeteria to the top level; from there, the only way to get to the greenhouse was by climbing a spiral staircase.
The greenhouse was a huge hall full of flowers and plants, surrounded by the same stone walls as the rest of the place, but its ceiling was transparent, showing the actual night sky beyond. It was my first time here, and seeing the dark sky outside full of stars and a slender crescent moon, I felt a tad bit freer than I actually was.
To my relief, the place seemed to be deserted as I settled on one of the benches scattered around, opened the sketchbook, and started scribbling with the pencil.
Yes, I didn’t consider painting or drawing my favorite pastime. But it helped me cool my head and numb my thoughts, which I could really appreciate at the moment. It also helped that I was surrounded by greenery, flowers, and plants of many kinds, giving me the feeling I was somewhat outside this stifling League.
For a couple of hours, I sat there drawing the scenery before me. It was like meditation, enchanting me into a trance state of sorts with the repetitiveness of my hand motions, and for the first time in a long while, I felt somewhat okay.
I might not have all the answers yet, Logan couldn’t stand the sight of me, Cassidy pretended we were strangers while hating my guts, and I’d done something stupid with the Lord of this place, which put me on Margarita’s radar even more so than before, but right here, right now, nothing mattered but the sound of sharpened graphite over paper.
When I finally put down the pencil, I stared at my drawing. It was a loose sketch of the greenhouse, and it didn’t do it justice. But it was mine. I did it. I created something from nothing.
I looked up from the drawing and stared at the row of pink and purple carnations to my right. The closest to me was different from the rest, though, what with it being orange, and I petted its petals, marveling at its beauty. I wish I’d brought some watercolors with me. I wanted to paint this particular carnation.
I released the carnation, closed the sketchbook, and tucked it under my arm, preparing to leave for lunch. When I rose and turned to the left, I saw a figure sitting at the other end of the bench, his hands in thepocket of his jacket, a hood covering his head. He wore black tactical pants tucked into familiar worn-out combat boots.
Narrowing my eyes, I folded my arms and came to a stop before him. “Are you following me?” I half asked, half barked.
He let out a breath and took his hood off. Cool midnight blue eyes crashed with mine. “No, I’m not,” he replied flatly. “And frankly, Henderson, if you have nothing of importance to say, leave.”
His dismissive tone made my blood boil. “There’s no rule against me being here even ifyou’rehere,” I said, pausing on purpose before I drawled, “my Lord.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaustion etched on his face. “You know what Lifeblood is, don’t you?” he asked exasperatedly.
I frowned, letting my arms fall to my sides. “What about it?”
Pushing his hair back, he said, “My Lifeblood’s depleted right now.”
Freezing, I stared at him. “You’ve just given the Imprint to someone,” I said. My heart rate increased, and I felt myself losing my calm. “Someone who was on the waiting list.”
Shockingly, Ragnor gave me what I could only call a pleading look.What the actual fuck?“Leave, Henderson,” he said, letting his head fall back. “I’m too tired to deal with you.”
He acted as if he was drunk. Gone was the cold, aloof Lord. Here was a strikingly sincere and honest man who seemed to be trying to catch a break.
It was fascinating. So fascinating, in fact, that my anger disappeared, and I took the seat next to him, my eyes never leaving his tired face. “You know,” I said quietly, swallowing a snicker, “you’re acting pretty cute right now.”
His head snapped in my direction; his eyes narrowed. But for some reason, it didn’t have the same effect as usual; I wasn’t cowed in the slightest. “Did you just call me cute?” he asked, refreshingly bemused.
My lips quirked. “Well, cute is a bit of a stretch,” I said, thinking out loud as my eyes gobbled him up while he lounged on the bench, soweary he was utterly relaxed yet still powerfully tall and muscular. He was like a snoozing beast. Lethal yet harmless.
It left me wondering if this was what he looked like when he slept, lying leisurely over the bed without a care in the world. With effort, I tore my eyes away from him and looked ahead at the colorful lilies. I heard him shifting in his place until suddenly he said, “I thought you didn’t consider art a hobby.”
I froze at the whisper, then turned to face him. He was holding my sketchbook, examining the drawing I’d made. I hadn’t even realized I wasn’t holding it anymore, and I was abruptly on edge, amusement gone. Tense and embarrassed, I looked at his long fingers as he traced the pencil lines.
