Bite Of The Past (The Black Fan Book 1) Page 4

  "There's one thing that's been bothering me about the city," Benedict starts.

  "Only one?" I mutter. There are at least a dozen things that bother me off the top of my head. More if I sit down and think about it.

  "I haven't been here long," he reminds me.

  A loud sigh escapes me, but it's carried off by the night air. There aren't many people about, which isn't much of a surprise. Most vampires will be at work right now, and most humans will either be asleep or also at work. "True. What is it that's bothering you right now?"

  He chuckles, probably at my reaction, but I don't ask.

  "Where are the other supernaturals?"

  Ah. That.

  I shrug. "I honestly don't know. A lot of them probably left before the wall went up, or found ways out after it. I think there's a witch-run coffee shop on the other side of the city, but I haven't seen it."

  "They can't all be gone."

  He has a point. Before the wall went up, supernaturals were all over the place going about their lives the same as humans and vampires. Now, it's not the case. "Maybe not. But most will be in hiding if they're still here." Or executed. I don't see why Mayor Reese would let them live.

  "Do you ever think about doing something to change what's going on here?" he asks.

  "Shhh." My eyes widen. "You can't say things like that."

  "Why ever not?"

  "It'll get you killed, Benedict." I tug on his arm to stop him from walking any further.

  Our gazes meet and he hopes he can see how serious I am.

  "What's the worst that can happen if I do?" The confusion in his eyes says everything his words don't. He truly doesn't understand how the city works.

  Before I can answer, a scream comes from further down the path. We exchange a worried glance, then rush towards it. Whatever has happened, we may be able to help.

  The moment we turn past the bend in the river, I stop in my tracks and catch Benedict's arm with my hand. He shoots me a quizzical look, but I shake my head ever so slightly. It's best if we don't get involved with what's happening.

  A woman struggles against the two enforcers.

  "Let me go!" she shouts.

  I wince as one of them lashes out, hitting her and rendering her unconscious. My heart breaks as they drag her off, not giving any thought to how her feet trail against the pavement.

  "What just happened?" Benedict asks.

  "I'm not sure." It's only once I try to speak that I realise there are tears in my eyes. "She might have tried to escape."

  My gaze flickers over to where a grate covers the river as it flows out through the wall. She must be a vampire, otherwise, she'd have tried to make the crossing during the day. Escapes are rarer now, but people still attempt to.

  "Where are they taking her?"

  "It'll depend," I admit. "She's probably a vampire, which will mean she'll be sent to the cage fights, or be executed at dawn."

  "Cage fights?" he echoes.

  I nod. "I don't know much about them. I've never been to one. But my understanding is that two vampires are put into cages and have to fight to the death."

  I tug on his arm, turning him away from the river and back towards the Black Fan. Somehow, my desire for a romantic walk has disappeared.

  He shudders. "Why would the vampires go through with that, though?"

  "They'll entice them somehow. Maybe they promise them freedom, or blood, or not hurting their family." In all honesty, I've chosen not to learn much about them.

  The look of disgust on Benedict's face is all I need to know I've made the wrong choice. Maybe it's time I figured out what I can do about the situation. Preferably without losing my life in the process.

  Chapter Seven

  "Here you go," Benedict says, placing a cup of tea into my hands. "It took me ages to find the honey."

  I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the warmth soothe me. "You remembered?" I'm not sure why it surprised me. Maybe the fact it's been five hundred years. Then again, I remember a lot of things about him. Especially the way he looks when he's just woken up in the morning...

  No. I can't think like that. I need to be sensible about this and not lose my heart again too quickly.

  "Of course." He sits down beside me and stretches out his legs. "Where are we? This doesn't look like somewhere you'd erm..."

  "Entertain?" I supply, trying to suppress the chuckle threatening to break free.

  "Yes," he admits, looking down at the floor in embarrassment.

  "That's because it isn't," I admit. "These are my private chambers. No one but me and the cleaners are allowed in here, and even they don't come in often." I like to keep things private. Plus there's a lot of paperwork stored here that could get a lot of people in trouble. Well, the ones who aren't already dead. Those people don't care.

  "Oh. I somehow assumed all of the rooms were the ones people lived in."

  I chuckle. "Then you can't have been in many high-end brothels then."

  He blushes. "I haven't been in very many."

  Should I believe him, or not? That's a question I didn't think I'd ever have to ask. But a part of me is reluctant to believe any man who says he hasn't. Especially ones who have been alive for over five hundred years. And he's claiming he's not over me too. Yet he must have been getting human interaction somewhere.

  I don't press the issue, though. The last thing I want is to make things awkward, or remind him of what I've done to make a living over the course of my life. People tend to be quick to judge when it comes to my line of work.

  "How are you feeling?" he asks.

  "About what?" I cock my head to the side, studying him and trying to work out which part of the evening he's talking about. I assume it's the woman being arrested, and the truthful answer is that it scares the hell out of me. But I don't want him to feel the same way, especially when he's about to realise he's as stuck as the rest of us are in this damned city.

  "You know what," he says softly.

  I drain my mug and set it down on the side table. I'll take it back to the kitchen when I go, but this conversation is too important to skip.

  "I'm fine," I lie. "It's normal here." And it isn't like I haven't seen worse.

  He narrows his eyes. "Catherine..."

  "Can we not talk about it right now?" I blurt. "We can once you've been here a while. There are other things you need to see here before you can make up your mind."

  He purses his lips in disapproval, but then nods. I'm right, though. And I think he knows it, deep down.

  "So...what would you like to talk about?" he murmurs.

  It's only then I realise how close we've gotten. My leg brushes against his, sending tingles through my entire body, along with echoes of the past.

  It would be so easy to give in to him. To seek comfort in the arms of someone who knows the person I used to be. I'm not convinced he'll accept the person he's found into his heart, so why not take advantage of the way I feel now?

  "A penny for your thoughts?" he says, holding out an old-style coin.

  I chuckle. "Have you been holding that in your pocket for a moment like this?" I tease.

  "You got me," he admits. "No one else would appreciate that."

  A genuine smile spreads over my face as I reach out and pluck the penny from between his fingers, tucking it into my pocket. I'm not sure he's ready to hear what I'm thinking about. But then, not being honest about it isn't an option. He's clearly here to try and rekindle some of what was between us, and the only way for us to do that is to be honest with one another.

  "So?" he prompts.

  I take a deep breath. "I was comparing the person I used to be, to the one I am now," I admit. "And wondering if you'd even like me any more."

  A puzzled look flashes across his face. Not that I blame him. It's not the simplest situation in the world.

  "What makes you think I won't like you?" he prompts.

  I shrug. "I can't pinpoint it exactly. I'm harder. More ruthless. Less pro
ne to flights of fancy." And those are just the surface things. I'm sure a lot of men wouldn't be able to get past the idea of me selling my body to get by. I know I didn't have a choice in the matter, it was that or die. But that doesn't mean other people won't judge.

  "The world changes us all," he counters.

  "Hmm."

  He reaches out and cups my cheek in his hand.

  Without meaning to, I find myself leaning into his touch, craving more of it.

  "You're all I've thought about for five hundred years," he admits.

  "The sentiment is cute, but I doubt it's accurate," I quip.

  Benedict chuckles. "Have you not heard of sweet nothings?"

  "I have. But I was under the impression you were supposed to whisper them in my ear." I'm breathless, and I don't know why. He shouldn't have this effect on me. I shouldn't let him.

  And yet...

  The left corner of his lip lifts as the teasing quality of my words register. His hand moves from my cheek, brushing a strand of my long, dark, hair behind my ear. He leans in, his hot breath fanning against my neck.

  My eyes flutter closed as the anticipation builds inside me. What's he going to say? And more importantly, how am I going to respond?

  "I see you in the way the sun shines on the ground," he starts.

  "That really is a nothing," I say quietly. "Neither of us can go out in the sun."

  He chuckles and leans back.

  It's hard to ignore the twinge of sadness him being gone leaves, no matter how much I want it to.

  "I couldn't think of anything better."

  "Hmm. How about, your eyes sparkle like coals."

  "Your eyes are brown, not black," he counters. "Your teeth are pointy like stakes."

  A girlish giggle escapes me, and I press my fingers to my lips to cover it. I didn't even realise I could still make that sound.

  "Now you're just being ridiculous," I point out.

  "I am," he admits. "But it's worth it just to see you smile."

  Warmth fills me at his words. He's hard to ignore when he's like this. Perhaps I should take advantage of that before he decides I've changed too much.

  "Can I kiss you, Catherine?" he asks before I can properly finish my thought.

  "Yes." The word slips out, and I'm not surprised. It's what I've been thinking about anyway. I just wasn't sure if doing it would be the right thing.

  But then, if we both want it, how bad can it be?

  My thoughts are chased away the moment he leans in. He pauses just before our lips touch, seeking permission even though he's only just asked for it. I close the distance between us, initiating the kiss.

  Something roars to life inside me as emotions and sensations I thought I'd lost resurfaced. It's all been saved away waiting for the day he came back to me.

  I lose myself in the kiss, knowing that this isn't going to be the end of it.

  I only hope Benedict isn't too disappointed by the person I've become.

  Chapter Eight

  "That was better than the first time," Benedict says, leaning in to kiss me again.

  I lean into him, enjoying the feel of his lips against mine. It's like no time has passed at all, even though it is glaringly obvious that it has.

  "I should hope so, it's been nearly five hundred years, and I've learned a trick or two." The moment the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. We still need to talk about my job, and I'm not sure how to even start that conversation. I'm going to save it for a later date.

  Instead of dwelling on it too much, I pull the covers tighter around us and rest my head against his shoulder. He's right, it was better than the first time. And for good reason. I suspect not having the threat of discovery hanging over us. The worst already happened on that front.

  "Do you have any plans tonight?" he asks. "We could go out for dinner, have a proper date?"

  I place a reassuring hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, I can't, there's a party I have to be at tonight."

  "Oh, right. What do you do at them?"

  I shuffle in the bed, and try not to sigh. How can I describe what the parties are like without them sounding like they're frivolous excuses for drinking and dancing?

  "Mostly I watch any of my girls who are working, and make sure nothing bad happens to them."

  "That sounds....boring." He chuckles, but it barely manages to cover his discomfort. He doesn't know how to deal with any of this.

  "It can be," I admit. Unsure what else to do, I place a reassuring hand on his chest and smooth it over his bare skin.

  I've been close to a lot of men over the years, one of the side effects of my profession, but it hasn't felt like this with any of them before. Only with Benedict, both in the past, and now.

  "Why don't I come with you..." he suggests.

  My eyes widen, and I lift myself up on my elbow so I can look into his eyes and know if he's serious. And buy myself some time to think of a way to tell him he's crazy without sounding like I'm trying to hide something from him. I suppose in a way, that's precisely what I'm trying to do, though. I don't want him to see me in that light. The one where I'm talking with potential clients, flirting with fans, and doing the rest of the things expected of me as one of the foremost madams in the city.

  "I don't think that's a good idea," I say eventually.

  "Why ever not?" He frowns.

  What answer even is there to give? I need to focus all of my attention on my girls. People have gone missing from the Mayor's parties. And worse. I suppress a shudder at the memory of one girl whose neck had been broken in front of everyone. For no reason. Or not one that any of us could work out. The Mayor is like that. She doesn't care about anything but showing off how much power she has over us all.

  "It isn't safe." And there's the truth. New vampires aren't banned from entering the City Of Blood, which is one thing. But that doesn't mean he should be drawing attention to himself. That's how people like Mills end up in Mayor Reese's inner circle. And once they're part of it, there's only one result. Death. Normally in a horrendous way. I'm already feeling guilty enough for knowing that's the way Mills will end. But there's very little I can do about it, especially without endangering myself and the people I protect in the process.

  "I'm more than capable of looking after myself."

  I can sense he's about to pull away from me, and the loss pains me already.

  "I promise, it isn't personal," I assure him. "This place just isn't a good one. And my job is dangerous," I try to reason.

  "Then why do you do it? Surely the money isn't worth putting yourself at risk."

  A small laugh escapes me without me meaning it to.

  He shifts back, confusion written all over his face.

  I run a hand through my hair as I try to think of how to explain it to him. My fingers tangle with some knots, and I have to give up. I'll have a shower before I go anywhere, that should help get them out.

  "It's not been about the money in a long time." I have more than enough stashed away. And not just in the bank either. I don't trust the administration, so don't keep it all where they can easily find it.

  "Then why?"

  "How did you leave court?" I blurt, knowing I have to go back to the basics.

  He shrugs. "Without much fanfare. Your Father went around telling a lot of the lords not to employ or associate with me, but never told them the reason why. Of course, there was speculation, especially as people had seen him throw you out, and you never came back. But it didn't do much damage to my reputation."

  I bite my lip. Of course it didn't harm his reputation. I'm sure even unofficially, the rumours destroyed mine. The vampire court was as bad as the human one at the time. For all I know, it may still be the same. Though I probably won't ever be invited back, so what does it matter.

  "I spent a few years trying to earn as much money as I could so I could try and find you. I couldn't leave straight away as one of your Father's men was following me constantly. Every time I saw him, all I coul
d do was picture what he'd do to you if he found you, and I couldn't live with that."

  "I see." Should I be bothered that he didn't try to find me straight away? I don't think so. I didn't try to get back to him, either. Though perhaps it's unfair of me to be annoyed at that, given I didn't even own myself once I'd been thrown out of court.

  "Why do you ask?"

  "Because I want to make a point."

  It's his turn to let out a small laugh. "I guessed as much."

  His hand curls around my shoulder and he pulls me to him. I relax a little now he's showing that he's not necessarily going to be the most difficult person imaginable.

  "The girls who come here, they don't have that advantage. Some of them are like me, and had been cast out and sent from place to place with no home." I don't say sold. He's not ready to accept that part of my story. "A lot of madams and other service providers would take advantage of them. Make them do things they don't want to."

  "And you don't?"

  "I try not to." My voice comes out small and uncertain, something I haven't been in years. Maybe I am making my girls do things they don't want to after all. I've never outright asked any of them. I'm just assuming they're happy because I employ them rather than own them.

  "Kitty?"

  I don't correct him on the use of my old nickname. The moment doesn't feel right. We are in bed after all.

  "I guess I haven't thought about it much," I admit. "But I employ them, which is unusual enough for the brothels. And I pay them a fair wage. If they want to leave, then all they have to do is tell me, and they're free to go."

  "Have any of them ever taken you up on that?"

  "One." And I hope he doesn't ask me what happened to her. A small part of me still reels from her execution. It turned out that she'd been passing secrets from one side to the other.

  "Why don't more leave?"

  "No idea,! I admit. "I've never asked any of them. But I suspect most of them know this is the best life they can have in the city. They have a decent amount of money, plenty of nights off, and their accommodation all paid for." What is it they say? Treat your employees well enough that they can leave, so they won't.