Page 85 of Cloak of the Vampire
“Unless Lord Renaldi buys her,” Bowen murmured and received a slap to his head from Jada. “Hey!”
Jada scowled at him warningly before turning to me. “Here’s something that might cheer you up,” she said, eyes suddenly light and an amused grin on her lips. “I heard some people think that our Lord’s taken a lover, so perhaps now that he’s getting some for the first time in God knows how long, he might be in a much better mood.”
I didn’t stop what I was doing and forced my face to remain impassive. But my heart was fluttering, panicked, in my chest.
Ragnor and I hadn’t had sex after our confessions in his office a few days ago. He hadn’t sought me out, and I’d been locking myself in the workshop, trying to no avail to find something good to paint for the Auction.
Not seeing him had only added to my hysteria. I wanted him to embrace me and make me forget the Auction was happening. I wanted him to tell me he wouldn’t let anyone buy me. I wanted him to lay my worries to rest.
Yet a dreadful feeling I couldn’t shake told me not to keep my hopes up.
“Getting some doesn’t mean you turn over a new leaf,” CJ retorted dryly, drawing me out of my dark thoughts. “Though perhaps you’re right. Maybe mystery girl is more than a fuck buddy too—”
“Don’t be stupid,” Jada cut him off with an eye roll. “Have you forgotten what he told Lissia?”
I froze. “Who’s Lissia?” I asked, maintaining a bored yet somewhat disinterested tone that didn’t show what was going on inside me. Because I was feeling many things, and none of them were good.
“His former lover,” CJ replied before turning to Bowen. “But it’s been over thirty years ago. Surely, he must’ve changed his mind.”
The green monster reared its head. “What did he tell Lissia?” I pressed.
There was a pause before Jada sighed and said, “He told her not to expect love from him,” she said gloomily, “because he already gave his heart to another many centuries ago.”
The mug I held crashed to the ground.
Ragnor had been in love?
I didn’t know why I was shocked. Logic dictated that he must’ve had relationships in the past—he was older than dirt, after all. It would’ve been weirder if he had never had any relationships.
But knowing it and hearing about it were two different things. And suddenly, I felt my resolve shattering to pieces.
The rest of my last kitchen shift passed in a blur. Jada had stolen a bottle of old scotch from the kitchen cupboard and had us raise a goodbye toast for me.
Normally, I would’ve enjoyed it—I liked the dishwashing crew the best out of all other vampires in the Rayne League, to be honest—but my mind was full of so many thoughts and my heart full of so many emotions that everything ironically became dull, numb, and empty.
Once the shift ended, I bid the dishwashing team one last goodbye and left feeling so out of sorts that when I took the escalator down, I didn’t notice a certain man waiting near the end of the escalator until he said, “Aileen.”
I raised my head and saw Logan. He was standing in the dimly lit hallway, wearing his usual training gear. His black hair glistened; his turquoise eyes narrowed when I came to a stop before him. “Logan,” I said quietly, and it took me a moment to register that something was wrong. “Why are you talking to me?”
After our conversation almost three months ago, he never sought me out, and I never bothered approaching him either. He wanted us to be strangers, and unlike Cassidy, who argued I was beneath her, Logan had every right to ask that of me.
So what changed? And why now?
Logan gave me a pitying look. “Because, unlike you, I’m not a heartless asshole.”
I couldn’t help but wince, guilt crawling up my insides and gnawing at my conscience. “What are you talking about?”
He jutted his chin toward the room to the left, and I followed him inside. It was the Common vampires’ residential lounge. I hadn’t been there before—the lounge was a place for social gatherings, and I was invited to none of those—but it looked like what I imagined: sofas were scattered throughout the room, there was a bar near the other end, and a large TV screen was in front of a seating area full of cushions, near which stood table games, from table soccer to billiards.
Since it was almost morning, and tomorrow the Auction would occur, the lounge was empty, which made the room seem much bigger but also stifling.
I was here with Logan, after all.
Logan came to a stop in the middle of the room and turned to me. “Margarita knows,” he said, voice loaded.
I came to a stop as well; his words caught me by surprise. I was about to ask what she knew when Logan gritted his teeth and bit out, “About the affair between our Lord and ...” Disgust filled his face when he spat, “You.”
Tensing, I stared at him. He seemed as if he wanted to be anywhere else but here, and that begged the question, Why did he bother? It couldn’t be just because of his conscience. How could he even have one when it came to me?
