Page 32 of Cloak of the Vampire
My heart boomed in my ears, and I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say, and ended up closing it, feeling so numb, empty ... and cold.
CHAPTER 12
Ragnor’s office was on the first floor. Inside the grand lobby were two secretaries seated at marble-top desks, typing on their computers and barely making eye contact with me when I declared my presence. One of them simply said, “Sit down and wait for us to call you.”
After taking a seat on one of the overstuffed couches, I studied the room. Rows upon rows of books were neatly organized in sleek bookcases, and there was an oil painting of a hooded man I assumed was the asshole himself. The artwork seemed very old fashioned, as though it was painted during the Renaissance or something. And perhaps it was; Ragnor must be older than dirt to be a Sacred Lord. And if that thought wasn’t unnerving enough, there was another painting of a man who faintly resembled him, wearing royal clothing, sitting next to a small table full of food, and looking like an aristocrat from the 1400s.
After I’d stared around the room for ten minutes, one of the receptionists called my name and instructed me to go through the door into his office. When I entered, I was surprised to find only a desk with a laptop and two chairs—one for Ragnor and one for a guest. The office was smaller than I’d expected, and there were no bookshelves or paintings whatsoever.
Ragnor stood in front of the desk with his arms crossed, facing the door. His longish dark hair was down in waves, and his height was as forebodingly intimidating as ever. His steely midnight blue eyes were on me, cold and assessing.
I stopped a few steps away from him, holding my hands behind my back. His eyes raked me up and down; it was a blatant perusal that ended with his expression growing dark. I tried to picture myself from his point of view: my long brown wavy hair was pulled up into a neat ponytail, my hazel eyes probably showed how tired I was, and my clothes were wrinkled from the way they’d been carelessly folded into the suitcase I’d gotten a couple of days ago, along with the rest of my stuff from the apartment I used to live in.
To think that Ragnor’s men snooped around my shitty apartment, seeing how poor I’d been, how roughly I’d lived, I was ravaged by utter humiliation.
Ragnor didn’t make small talk or tell me to sit down. Instead, he said, “You’re aware your situation is different from the others’.”
It wasn’t a question, and despite the fact that he knew the answer, it seemed like he was waiting for a response. So I gave him a nod and said, “Yes.”
His face tightened in warning. “Yes, what?”
Asshole.“Yes,my Lord.”
He started walking toward me, but it wasn’t exactly a walk. It was like a lion stalking its prey, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. “Tell me why my team can’t find a single piece of information about you.”
Danger,my instincts whispered.Tread carefully.
I wanted to give a snide response, but something about him and the way he was looking at me told me that was a bad idea. He circled me, then stood in front of me, closer now, as if he was not sure what to make of me.
His eyes dropped to my body, making me tense. “What is this you’re wearing,” he asked, his voice dripping with discontent.
My mouth opened and closed with a click. I didn’t know what to say. Now he was asking about my clothes?
Ragnor placed a hand under my chin and raised my face to him. “You’re not getting enough sleep,” he said as if I didn’t know this.
I stepped back and out of his grip, which seemed to annoy him. I was breathing a little heavier now. I was suddenly aware of how close he’d been and how his eyes watched my every move as if he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. It made me feel warm all of a sudden and somewhat claustrophobic. Like there just wasn’t enough space in this room to contain both him and me.
Did he feel that stifling tension too? Or perhaps it was all in my head.
Or maybe I was reading far more into this than I should. He was devastatingly, mouthwateringly, panty-dropping gorgeous, after all. He probably had dozens of lovers at his beck and call. Why would he feel anything for someone he considered a nuisance? An inconvenience?
That thought irritated me, and I folded my arms, lifting my chin up. “I doubt you called me here to discuss my clothes and lack of sleep.” I paused, and when his eyes sharpened, I swallowed my annoyance and gritted out, “My Lord.”
He stepped forward, pushing his hands into the pockets of his pants, clearing his face from any emotion. “You’re hiding your past, and I need to know what’s in it and whether or not your past is going to be a problem for this League,” he said flatly.
My fuse sizzled at his commanding tone. “My past is of no matter to you, and I can assure you I won’t jeopardize either you or your League.”
Ragnor’s face didn’t change, but his eyes turned colder. “If it is of no matter, Henderson, then why don’t you simply tell me about it?”
Because there are some things better left buried.“I can’t see how it’s relevant,” I replied blandly. “We were told the only thing that mattered was how we performed in the Auction. I’m focused on that.”
He stopped a mere step away from me, and I had to tilt my head so I could look at his face. “Let me enlighten you,” he said, voice dropping lower than it already was and catching an edge of a growl. “As you must’ve learned by now, there is a protocol before giving an Imprint. There is a very long wait list of candidates that are chosen very carefullyby us Lords. We conduct a background check on all of the candidates to tell us about their personality and behavioral tendencies and to make sure they won’t put our Society at risk. You understand now, Henderson, why the background check is not just important but mandatory?”
If he only knew what he was asking for. “You do not need my background to understand my personality,” I said, my hands curling into fists at my side. “Your past doesn’t make you who you are.” This was a statement I didn’t believe, but I was out of ideas as to how to dissuade him from snooping.
He stared at me unreadably for a moment before he said in a soft, threatening voice, “I’ve been watching you.”
Run,my gut urged.Run, run, run—
