Chapter Twenty
The morning sunlight, weak but cheerful, filtered down through the pine trees to form shifting chiaroscuro patterns along the ground and across the gleaming body of the car. I stood at the back, breaths puffing whitely in the crisp air, contemplating the arrangement of our bags in the trunk. We had plenty of room, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to fit every piece together in the most efficient way possible, like a puzzle.
Val was inside, double-checking that we hadn’t left anything. I looked at the cabin fondly. On impulse, I fished my phone out of my jeans pocket to take a picture. This place would always be special to me, given what we’d accomplished here. Maybe we could make a point of coming back, once a year. Or maybe someday, when we’d amassed enough money simply by being alive for so long, we could buy this piece of land.
When I turned my gaze to the mountains, the panther stirred. I feasted my eyes on the smooth rise of the wooded slopes and the jagged spire of a distant summit. How strange, to know that I had the potential to live longer than these mountains could survive the persistent whittling force of the wind and the rain. Deep inside, the panther pushed lightly, not content with just looking. She wanted to run. I shook my head in regret. Not now.
Home.
The shining city of last week’s dream moved into the forefront of my mind, and I smiled.
Yes.
She pushed again but I tamped her down. It was getting easier to hold on to the upper hand while I was in human form. She hadn’t made anything more than a halfhearted attempt to buck my authority as alpha since that first night. We were going to be fine, even back in the confines of New York.
I closed the trunk, started the car, and slid into the passenger seat. This newfound confidence was exhilarating, and I didn’t feel tired at all; it was amazing how much energy I had regained simply by not having to struggle constantly against the desires of the panther. For the first time in weeks, I was looking forward to the coming hours, not dreading them. Val had been invited to a charity gala tonight that would be attended by a host of political bigwigs, and while I had despaired of being her date, I was now eager to go. In the absence of fear, I had begun to crave a social scene that didn’t revolve around the Consortium. After my tête-à-tête with Malcolm, interacting with the Washington elite would be a cakewalk.
Val stepped outside and my entire body jolted at the sight of her: low-slung jeans clinging to her slim hips, green sweater poking out beneath the shell of her winter jacket, bright gold hair sparkling in the wintry sunlight. There was nothing palpably different about her appearance, and yet she seemed to radiate love and joy and peace in a frequency that only I could perceive. I had never seen her happier.
Suddenly giddy, I rolled down the window and reached over to honk the horn. She looked up quickly in alarm, but at the sight of me leaning out the door, a smile burst over her gorgeous face.
“What are you doing in there, Count Dracula?” I called. “Let’s get a move on! Places to be!”
She pretended to look indignant, and tossed a pair of black lacy boyshorts through the window. I had put those on earlier this morning. They hadn’t lasted long.
“I believe these are yours, Panthro,” she scoffed.
Her teasing elated me. Finally, it seemed like the darkest times might actually be behind us. We had plenty of challenges still on the horizon, of course, but now, we could face them as a strong, united front.
“Dude,” I said as she started the car, enjoying the easy banter. “Panthro was a guy.”
She paused, palm hovering over the gear shift. “Did you just call me ‘dude’?”
“So what if I did? That wouldn’t be the first time someone’s called you a dude. Got a problem?” When I leaned toward her, she automatically curled a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The graze of her fingers against my skin provoked a shiver. I hadn’t thought it possible, but we were even more physically attuned now than when we had both been human.
“Dudes can’t kiss like this,” she said, just before closing the gap and devouring me. I clutched her hair with both hands, and when she pulled back to take a breath, I didn’t let her put more than an inch of space between us.
“You’re so right.” I had already homed back in on her lips, but Val slid one finger between us before I could pounce.
“If you want to leave, then hit the pause button.” Her words were warm against my face. I didn’t want to move, but she was right—we had already delayed our departure by several hours.
“All right, all right.” Begrudgingly, I untwisted my fingers and sat back in my seat, fastening the belt.
She revved the engine. “All set?”
My elation bubbling over, I planted one hand high on her leg, snapped down my sunglasses, and pointed toward the pine trees. “ThunderCats, ho!”
“Who are you calling a ho?” she said as she began to guide the car down the spiraling drive.
I thought back to our very first encounter in the Niagra—to the smoothness with which she had come on to me—and laughed. “Oh please. You were very much a ho before I came along.”
Val struggled between amusement and indignation for the second time in five minutes. Consternation looked so darn cute on her. “‘Ho’ is slang for ‘whore,’ genius girl. I was not a whore. No one ever paid me for my services. I was a player.”
“And I suppose I’m the sweet Midwestern girl who reformed you?”
“Reformed? Hell no.” Val glanced over at me quickly, her expression suddenly serious, before turning her attention back to the road. “Neither of us was ever meant to be tamed. You’re my match, babe.”
My heartbeat stuttered at the depth of emotion in Val’s voice. I squeezed her thigh in response, and she shifted restlessly. “Maybe…uh, maybe we should pull over.”
I laughed again. It felt so good. “We just left!” I let my fingers dance up the seam on her leg, glorying in the ability to tease her without reservation, without guilt. “I’m instituting a rule. No sex until after the party.”
“What? You’re not going to have mercy on me when we get home?”
I stilled my hand temporarily. “We have a big gala to go to in a matter of hours. A black tie event. The first thing I’m doing when we get home is take a shower. And then I’m going out to get my hair done.”
“You could do me in the shower,” she pointed out.
“I could. But I won’t. Patience, grasshopper.”
She rolled her eyes, evidently deciding to change the subject. “So…you actually seem excited about this party. You do realize that my mother, and my father, and at least three of my asshat cousins will all be there, right? Maybe we should make a contingency plan in case World War Three breaks out.”
“They’ll be fine and you know it,” I chided. “No one gets into a confrontation at a charity gala.” When Val continued to look skeptical, I gently patted her knee. Not for the first time, I wished that I could eliminate the stress she felt over her family. Only now, I suddenly realized, the difference was that they didn’t cow me, either.
“Maybe I’m eager to see them all again because they used to intimidate me,” I thought aloud. “You know—wealthier than I could ever hope to be, politically connected at the highest level, parents of my lover…”
“Mmm. Lover.” Val smiled and rested her hand on mine, lacing our fingers together. “So what’s changed, then?”
“Now I can transform into a gigantic cat.”
She laughed. “You definitely win. I am such the Robin to your Batman.”
I cocked my head and looked her up and down. “You should wear tights.”
“Oh, no. No, I really shouldn’t.”
“But you have fantastic legs—”
“What I have, lover, are terrifying memories of my mother stuffing me into tights and a dress every day during my elementary school years.”
I didn’t know whether to burst into laughter or make sympathetic noises. It was impossible for me to conceive of Valentine in a dress without thinking of the scenario as drag. “Clearly, we need to get on a better footing with her so that I can see those pictures.”
“Well,” she said, reaching over to turn on the iPod, “if you can convince hell to freeze over, then you have a right to them.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I leaned back against the headrest and watched the countryside pass slowly by as Val guided the car toward the highway. Sometimes, it seemed as though Val had forgotten about our immortality. Her family, their money, and their contacts were simply a blip on the radar of history. They would rise and fall, but she and I would remain constant. Every chip they had ever held against her, against us, was meaningless in the face of our persistence against Time itself.
Maybe she still felt so human because of her fragility, her cravings. But she didn’t have to feel weak—not now that I was in control of my beast. She had me to feed her, protect her, sustain her. This partnership was like nothing her family, the Consortium, or the world had ever seen.
Together, we were going to be a force to be reckoned with. I just knew it.
*
Six hours later, we were on Park Avenue. “Up at the corner is fine,” Val called to the cabbie, who obligingly pulled the taxi over to the curb.
I frowned as she paid. “The hotel isn’t on this block.”
She waited to answer until she had helped me from the car. I was wearing my new favorite dress: strapless and red, flowing from a knee-length height in the front to calf-length in the back. I’d always lamented “naturally clashing” with red, but that wasn’t a problem anymore.
“I didn’t want us to roll up to the Waldorf-Astoria in a yellow cab,” Val explained, taking my elbow. She had already commented twice on how impressed she was at my ability to walk in such high heels—we were nearly the same height when I wore these shoes. “You deserve to make an impressive entrance, not to be jeered at.”
I gave her my best skeptical look. “Val. I’m sure cabs frequent the Waldorf just as much as any other hotel in this city. The bellman wouldn’t blink an eye.”
“Pritchard would do a lot more than blink.”
“Hmm.” Sensing her discomfort, I pressed a little closer. “Maybe I should rid Pritchard of his right hand.”
“Down, kitty,” she murmured, smiling. Once we reached the entrance, she guided me into the lavish lobby and toward the bank of elevators. When we emerged on the third floor, a low, persistent hum greeted us. The panther stirred, startled by the nearness of strangers. Anxiety crawled uncomfortably across my skin. This was natural, I told myself. These people always made me feel uncomfortable. But I knew that the feral tinge to my discomfort was feline through and through. I threaded one arm through Val’s and held her close.
“Listen to all those socialites,” she said, leading me toward the Grand Ballroom. We collected our nameplates, and as we headed toward our table, I prayed that Fate—or whoever had done the seating arrangement—would be kind, for Val’s sake.
The first Darrow we saw was her father, who was having a very serious-looking conversation with the secretary of state. “Let’s not interrupt them,” Val said.
“Yes, let’s definitely not,” I replied. “Oh—table fourteen. Two o’clock.”
As soon as she turned in the right direction, she let out a sigh of relief. Already seated at our table was her cousin Holly, who worked as a healthcare lobbyist in D.C. When I had first met Val’s family a few months ago, she had pointed out Holly as the sole member of Clan Darrow who hadn’t treated Val’s coming out as akin to her developing leprosy.
“Hey, Holly,” Val said as she put down our nameplates.
“Valentine.” Holly stood to kiss her cheeks. “And…Alexa, correct?”
“That’s right.” When I leaned over Val to shake Holly’s hand, I couldn’t help inhaling Val’s candied scent. As always, she grounded me and excited me at the same time.
“You’re looking well, Val. Feeling okay?”
“Almost back to a hundred percent,” she said, reaching out to stroke my arm. Only then did I realize that I had unconsciously bristled at Holly’s mention of the so-called “accident.” The panther bared her teeth, snarling in aimless fury.
“Thanks again for the flowers,” Val continued. “Where’s Martin?”
Holly gestured in the direction of one of the bars, where a knot of men in their mid-thirties appeared to be collectively flirting with the bartender like a pack of scavenger dogs. Lovely. I would be staying the heck away from that particular corner, but fortunately there were three others to choose from.
“Can I get either of you a drink?” I asked, wanting to give them some time to catch up.
Martin was apparently taking care of Holly’s beverage, and Val wanted a whiskey sour. I planted a light kiss on her cheek as I left, knowing that she’d be in decent hands.
I was waiting in line, watching some old, clearly Republican senator—or maybe congressman—flirt with one of the waitstaff, when someone put a hand on my elbow. I turned quickly and felt surprise. Olivia.
“Alexa, hi,” she said. If I hadn’t seen her a month and a half ago lying swaddled in a hospital bed, I never would have guessed that she had been the victim of a brutal beating. Her tan skin glowed against the black and gold fabric of her jacket and skirt. She looked vibrant and healthy and wholly human.
“Hello, Olivia.” I tried to embrace her quickly, but she held me at arm’s length.
“I almost didn’t recognize you—that hair color looks fantastic on you. What made you decide to dye it?”
I shrugged, struggling to suppress a smile. “I just decided it was time for a change,” I said, wishing that Val was next to me to get the pun. “But how are you feeling? You look great.”
She waved off the compliment. “I’m still working out the kinks. I convalesced in Bermuda.”
I nodded, uncertain of what to say next. I wondered whether, when Val saw Olivia, she would be jealous of Olivia’s humanity. I hoped not. Then again, just because I was starting to reconcile my two halves didn’t mean that Valentine was in the same mental space. She still wanted justice; there would be no peace for her until the rogue vampire was either in prison, or dead.
“And how is Val?” Olivia was asking. “I know she was having some lingering health problems. Is everything okay?”