“I told you, money is easy.” It was the first time he sounded thoroughly modern, and wouldn’t you know, it was because alightly poked male ego was the same all throughout history. “Do you doubt that I will provide?”
God, give me patience, and give it to me right-fucking-now. Simone decided getting him to set up the invisible seals was either a blessing to keep neighbors from listening through paper-thin walls or a major miscalculation since she couldn’t just slam the door and find somewhere else to bed down.
She had proof positive the latter tactic wouldn’t work, anyway. “I just met you, and you didn’t even have a name. So back off on theprovidingstuff, mister. And anyway, a woman needs her own money. This is enough to set me up, and I’m taking it.”
There were different names for a woman’s best defense, but Simone liked the simplest:walking-away money, fuck-you money. Even a man who loved you and swore never to leave could get in a car accident, and then where was a girl who had kept house, smiled prettily, gotten old, done what she was told all her life?
Entirely fucked, that was where. And not in any even remotely pleasurable way.
The only real friend a woman had was cash. She’d figure out the problem of investing for a long-ass lifespan later, but she needed the lump sum now—assuming this meet was legit. Barry said he was on the hook for the payment, and sure she could ghost as soon as she had confirmation the moolah had hit her account. But that was a dick move, and she also had to think about the problem of withdrawing a substantial sum and vanishing, since Jane Smith wasn’t doing any more bounties.
Which was also a relief, even if she was abandoning any pretense of high-flown principles.
“Grant me a few nights.” John’s strong, callused fingers had tensed on the hat’s brim, though the rest of him was calm as a stone. “I have already begun preparations, and shortly willbe able to give you anything you wish. Simply say the word, Simone, and it will be yours.”
I cannot believe we are evenhavingthis conversation. And what kind of ‘preparations’ could he possibly have made? “What, you fuck me a few times and think it makes you something special? You could vanish tomorrow,John.” She drew the name out, sarcasm not just dripping but outright gushing. “You might even decide to leave me stuck in these seal-things when you do it, and I’ll starve to death like a rabbit in a hutch. No dice, Mr. Old Vampire.”
“You are my leman.” The worst thing was his air of bafflement instead of anger; his reactions weren’t anything close to predictable. “I will never leave you, nor will I harm you.”
I’ve had it with this leman nonsense.“Clearly we have differing definitions of ‘harm’.” She sounded nasty even to herself. “You show up out of nowhere, you do… what you did, to me, and to be fair you’re the only other vampire I’ve met who can eventalkand I’m not thirsty anymore but that doesn’t mean I don’t know where the blood comes from and I just… I just…”
Her fingers were starting to numb up, announcing sunrise and her own helplessness. So were her toes; she hated the feeling. Simone shut up, set her jaw, and stalked away from the door. Getting past him promised to be tricky, but she stared past his shoulder and extended her very best urbandon’t mess with mebody language.
It worked—sort of. He backed away four whole steps, before moving aside between the bed and a nicotine-stained wall.
But he also put his arm out, neatly barring the bathroom door. “Simone. Please. Simply grant me a few more nights. Two, three at most. I swear, on the Blood and on my leman, that?—”
“You can show me,afterI go to this meet.”There. That’s as far as I’m going. The relief was intense—just like telling Curt they were getting a goddamn divorce, for real and no takebacks.There was a kind of relaxation in discovering she couldn’t be pushed any further, just like the moment when a bounty sighted her and she was committed to fight-or-die. No compromise, no middle ground, no bending for another person’s needs or desires.
It felt wonderful each goddamn time. Which probably meant she wasn’t a good person, sure. But that fact, however lately discovered, had helped her survive.
John didn’t leap on her, but he also wasn’t giving up. “Mortal entanglements are unwise.” Whateverthatmeant.
“This is non-negotiable, Jonathan.” The name rolled out easily, as if she knew him. Which was weird, but maybe just a function of being around someone who could talk coherently about vampire stuff.
Even bloodsuckers had to get lonely. And what if he was right, what if she’d been the reason the other ones had acted all drunk and psychotic? Though the bounties had done terrible thingsbeforeshe appeared, it was still chilling to think she’d mistaken her sole edge in the situation.
What else was she missing? What else did she need to learn, and could she trust this bloodsucker to give her a few lessons?
His arm lowered a few degrees, then a few more. “You forget I am daywalker, sweet Simone. I have not been… idle, while you rest.”
Good for you. “I suppose you could just drop me in the sunshine somewhere, if I don’t cooperate.” Probably best to let him know she’d considered the notion, and was on guard against it. Although what on earth could she actually do? “Is that it?”
“Of course not.” Did he actually sound shocked? His baby blues widened, almost comically. “I would never?—”
She shoved past him. “Just stop. I’m tired.”
The lock-button on the bathroom doorknob didn’t work at all. No windows, and the fan was probably too choked with dustto provide any real ventilation. The bleach-and-mildew bouquet could’ve been worse or, conversely, a whole lot better.
But the plastic bathtub didn’t have a ring, at least. She left the lights on—only two out of three bulbs in the strip over the sink worked—and clambered in, boots and all, curling over her bag as the numbness of sunrise mounted in leaden limbs.
All I have to do is get to the meet.She’d hear the billionaire’s pitch, then decide. If there was nothing to this ‘cure’ idea, she’d figure out a way to give John the slip and set herself up in a cottage somewhere. If there was anything real or actionable, though, she’d have to get creative.
Reallycreative.
She was trying to decide which she hoped for most when dawn seized her.
After recent events, it was almost startling to wake up with her clothes on, let alone in a questionably clean bathtub.