Unseen (The Heights, Vol. 1) (15 page)

“If you desire to call it such.” He felt her
anger bloom, make her brazen, foolhardy.

“The last thing I remember desiring was that
you’d dust in my bed.”

“There are far better things to desire me to
do in your bed than
dust
.” Despite the sexual component of
his comment, it was spoken in response to her growing agitation. He
held her eyes so tightly she couldn’t look away. “I seem to
remember being strapped down, but in an entirely…subpar way. Would
you be more comfortable if I chained you to the headboard?”

“Oh no you don’t,” she spat. “This is not
about kink, and it’s not about payback. You tell me right now if
that was a mistake.” Her rage made her reckless. She knew what he
was, the danger of pushing him too far, and she continued to press.
“Before you knew what I was, would you have sucked me dry if you’d
been able to get off that bed? Did those stupid chains keep you
from killing me?” She raised onto her knees, her fists clenched
around nothing. Powerless yet still willing to fight. “Tell
me!”

“Yes.” The word wasn’t shouted, but it was as
close as Rhyse remembered ever hearing come from his mouth. “Yes.
To everything. I would have. I would have fed from you and heard
you orgasm, and I would not have stopped.” And if she wasn’t dat
vitae, if he
could
drink from her, even now he wasn’t sure
he could stop. He ached to taste her, to be inside her, so badly he
struggled to contain it. The effects of the few drops of her blood
were
nothing
compared to this.

They stared at each other, the air between
them volatile. If either of them moved, he knew exactly the
direction it would be in. Like two asteroids, they’d successfully
avoided each other thus far. Because if they collided, one or both
of them wouldn’t be able to walk away.

The wood of the footboard gave beyond repair
under his fingers, breaking the intensity of emotion and allowing
him to think instead of simply react. There was no contest here, no
question of dominance; therefore, he lost nothing by turning his
back on the useless conversation. “Once you have eaten and bathed,
we will discuss what you are to do.”

“Can you give me a hint as to what that is?”
she said. “You already have someone who cleans and since you don’t
eat, you don’t need a cook, so…”

“You will listen to what I say when I say it,
and then you will follow my orders. Your only choice is whether you
do it with a gag or without.” The door cracked as he slammed it
behind him.

Addison flinched when the door broke. That
could’ve just as easily been her. Yelling at a vamp won the prize
for Best Way to Cause Your Own Murder. But she needed to know she’d
done
something
right. What she hadn’t expected was to see
regret on his face. His eyes looked more haunted than they had
before he brought her here. She’d snapped at him to protect
herself, to push him away. Because she was more terrified now than
she’d ever been, and it had nothing to do with death.

Wake the fuck up.
He was a vamp. She
was a plaything. A screwed-up plaything who he’d just admitted
planning to drink for dinner. Had anything changed, besides the
fact that he couldn’t drink her blood?

She crawled out of the massive bed and looked
down at herself. Bra and panties. She couldn’t imagine Rhyse taking
off her pants but leaving her underwear on. Or not completely
shredding it.

Damn. Now she couldn’t stop picturing how it
might have happened. “It was the woman he hired. For sure.”

She walked right by the low table at the foot
of the bed, purposefully not looking at the pile of clothes that
hadn’t been there a few days ago. She wasn’t going to wear them,
whatever they were. Because she wasn’t a goddamn toy he got to
dress up.

When she saw the steam coming from the tub,
she almost felt bad. Almost, because after she ripped off her
underwear and sank into the water, she’d never felt better. She
tried not to think about the poor woman who’d probably melted the
snow in a pot over the fire and then lugged it up here in fifteen
trips. “I hope he’s paying her really, really well.” Addison would
have to find her and thank her. Really soon.

But not right now.

“I hope you have died in there,” he shouted,
his feet stomping up the stairs in a decidedly un-vampire-ish way.
Her eyes popped open, and she jumped out of the water. “Because I
see no other reason to keep me waiting this long.” Rhyse burst
through the door before she’d even unfolded the towel. “Why—”

Evidently, the sight of her bare ass had
shocked the condescension right out of him.

She wrapped the towel around herself and,
after gathering enough courage, turned around. His eyes were too
intense and there was a very large bulge in his pants, so she
looked at his shoes.

“There is clothing laid out for you. Put it
on and come downstairs. Now.”

She followed him into the bedroom. “Where are
my clothes?”

“In the fireplace.”

“You burned my clothes?”

“We were out of kindling. But do not worry,
more is being gathered.”

“Bastard.”

He crossed the room in three steps until he
towered over her. She had to look straight up to see his eyes. “Did
you say something, Addison?” Telling the truth was rarely the best
idea in the Heights.

“No,” she said on an exhale.

“If you were any other being, you would
already be dead,” he snarled. “Multiple times. Unfortunately, as
unpleasant as it is for both of us, there is still something you
need to do. Therefore, if you call me that again, I will bend you
over my knee until you learn how to behave.”

Shit.
Part of her was tempted to say
it again. Not to check if he was bluffing, but because he’d bend
her over.

That’s so wrong.
“I’m not going to
wear what you got me.”

“Then take good care of that towel because
you will be wearing it for quite some time.”

She ducked around him and went to the
clothes, tossing them onto the bed one by one. “It’s all leather,
Rhyse. I don’t wear leather because it makes noise. Cotton doesn’t.
Polyester doesn’t…unless it’s the hard and cheap stuff, I
guess.”

“I believe that is vinyl.”

“Always? I’m sure it comes crinkly.”

He sighed. “Why are we discussing this?”

“I’m guessing the thing you want me to do is
something like spying on someone you can’t spy on yourself. Like in
daylight. And I can’t sneak around if my pants make noise every
time I move. So thanks but no thanks, because I don’t feel like
dying. Of course, if you bought some stretch-knit leggings and a
t-shirt, I’d be happy to wear them.”

He looked like he was about to vomit. “I
would never,
ever
buy you stretch-knit pants. In fact, the
mere thought of it will give me nightmares.”

“Then I guess I’m wearing the towel.”

“Put on the clothes.”

“Take me back to my apartment and I’ll wear
all the leather you want.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” he said
gruffly, “what I
want
requires no clothing at all.”

Her breath was heavy as they stared at each
other, waiting for the other to give in or make the first damning
move. Sadly, she couldn’t think of a single reason not to have sex
with him. She knew it would be amazing, surreal, satisfying. It
might even relieve all this tension so they could move past it. But
there was a good chance she would never be
able
to move past
it. All it would do was solidify the totally insane feelings that
were currently bouncing around her head with absolutely no truth to
attach to.

He’d tried to kill her—you’d think that would
be a deal breaker. But he hadn’t, and now she knew he didn’t plan
to. He’d fed her and helped her and was occasionally nice. Those
were all good things. Great things.
Impossible-to-imagine-in-their-world things.

She wanted to trust him and be protected
and…even stupider things. Having—
incredible
—sex with him
might ground those feelings, give them something to hold onto…like
hope. Then they would multiply all the way up to the moment they
destroyed her. And if she was still alive, he would go on and she
would stay behind, haunted by the knowledge that she’d known what
would happen from the very beginning, a time when she could have
stopped it.

“I told you, the timeline has changed, buddy.
It’s not gonna happen.”

“If that is what you truly believe, then you
should probably get dressed before the temptation overwhelms me. I
am not a patient being.” This time he didn’t slam the door on his
way out. Because he didn’t use the door.

“Lucky bastard,” she mumbled. And then she
got dressed.

Addison stood at the base of the stairs, not
knowing which way to go. One path was as good as the other, so she
went left, peeking in each room she passed, expecting to see him
standing there, ready to bitch about how long she took to get
dressed.

Maybe
he
should try pulling on leather
pants right after getting out of the bathtub.

“Holy!” She jerked backwards when she saw a
woman in the kitchen adding a few logs to the fire in an enormous
open oven.

The woman, who looked to be barely out of her
teens, glanced up and smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t think I was that
scary.” Definitely a seer. She had a pixie haircut and the kind of
face that was feminine enough to pull it off.

“It wasn’t you—there was a big bug over
there,” Addison said, laughing and thrilled to see someone normal.
“Were you the one who drew the bath?”

“Yep. I’m Felicity.” She wiped her hands on
her pants and stuck one out to shake. “The Prime didn’t mention
your name.”

“So he just called me ‘the idiot,’ then?”

Felicity laughed. “‘The woman,’ actually.
Pretty impressive for a vampire to call a female seer anything she
would call herself.”

“I guess you can call me ‘woman’ or
‘Addison.’ Thanks for the bath. It was amazing.”

“I’ll draw another tomorrow unless you want
one before that. Just—”

“No! Powers no.” It must have taken her
hours
to draw the last one. “I’m not planning on sticking
around long enough to get dirty.” She leaned in so she could
whisper. “You’re stuck here, aren’t you?”

She shook her head, her brow tight. “I go
into town whenever I need to.”

“But he has something on you to keep you
here, right?” Rhyse would never trust a seer to keep a secret. “Did
he threaten your family or something?”

“He’s been nothing but good to me since I got
here. Not that he actually pays any attention to me, of course.”
Felicity was as trapped as all of them were, whether she knew it or
not. Rhyse didn’t have to threaten her, because the threat was
inherent in the Heights.

She told Addison they were still in
California—in the Sierra Mountains, around the five-thousand-foot
level. An impossible distance to walk, a couple-hour drive, or only
a one-second phase from home.

“The whole property is warded so humans don’t
accidentally find it,” Felicity said. How convenient.

“Do you have a cell phone I could use?”

She touched the back pocket of her jeans. “I
don’t think he’d want you to call anyone.”

“Yeah, well… He gets everything else he
wants, he’s gotta let a few things go, right?”

“He’s the Prime, Addison. He doesn’t have to
let
anything
go.”

Or any
one
, it seemed. But she didn’t
push it because it wasn’t fair to Felicity. So after saying a quick
goodbye, Addison went back to wandering around the house.

If she’d gone right instead of left from the
bottom of the stairs, she’d have found him two doors down. He stood
in the middle of an enormous library, looking impatient.

“What do you think?” She held her arms out to
show him the clothes.

He nodded. “Much, much better. I just might
use your entire closet as kindling.”

“You haven’t heard the best part.” She moved,
bent, and wiggled, all while pointing to her ear. “Hear that?
That’s the sound of me getting murdered while I do your little
errand.”

“You exaggerate. But it does not matter,
because you will not be wearing leather when you do my ‘little
errand.’”

Well, at least it couldn’t get any worse. She
sat on top of the wooden desk, ignoring his look of dismay. He was
upset about her butt being on his furniture, but totally fine with
sending her butt off to get killed.

He sighed. “The three-hundred-year
anniversary of the signing of the Treaty of All Races is next
week.”

“Treaty of All Races except the human race
and the seers. Because they don’t matter.”

“The entire Council and all of my enemies
will be in attendance,” he said as if she hadn’t said a word, not
that he would’ve argued the point. “It is fortuitous.”

“For who?” Maybe he planned on giving whoever
tried to kill him another shot to get it right.

“For us both. Once I know who tried to
assassinate me, I will leave you to your miserable life.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You are welcome. I have purchased a gown for
you. Obviously, I could not trust you to choose one yourself.”

“Gee, thanks again. But I need to go back and
see if I still have a job.” Or she’d get more than fired—she’d be
put on the list of rogue seers who were killed on sight.

“No. Anyone could see through your weak
shield. In addition, you will be busy every day and every
night.”

“Doing what?”

“This evening you will be fitted for a gown.
I will phase you in near the shop, but I cannot go inside or word
will get out that I am not dead. You must go in alone and must not
mention my name. If the proprietor asks who you will accompany, you
will say Lamere.”

“Because Lamere can’t get his own date?”