Blood Leverage (Bloodstone Chronicles Book 1) (26 page)

Keanu shook his head and unlatched the door, holding it open. “Not exactly. Ian wants a new color in there.” He tilted his head toward the room we’d left. “I think we’ve all had enough Eggplant around here.” 

The first mirth I’d felt all day bubbled through my chest as I opened the next two doors myself. That would be an understatement.

Keanu sat and patted the sofa and I felt better as I joined him.

“Now, about last night…” He looked everywhere but at me, his obvious embarrassment tempering my own. “For one thing, I think you ought to know that Ian and I don’t make a habit of, ah, sharing.”

That was a polite way to put it.

“Last night was every bit as much a new experience for us as it was for you and possibly even more unexpected.”

I disagreed, but chose not to argue. “If you two don’t share and I wasn’t drunk, feel free to explain Ian’s behavior. Because I did
not
start that.”

Keanu couldn’t meet my eyes. “It was our connection, but it’s never been like that before. I mean, you’ve seen how possessive Ian can be. Under normal circumstances he’d never let me anywhere
near
you.”

My left eyebrow shot up and Keanu realized what he’d said.

“I mean, not that Ian has the right to decide who can be near you,” he hastily backtracked, “but you saw how he was at the thought of me drinking your blood. Last night was insane. It was like I
was
Ian. Or he was me. I don’t know whose emotions were projecting what, but honestly, it was a little frightening. It’s strange enough that I was affected, but for Ian to be? Unheard of. He must feel completely humiliated at having lost control. I mean, not that we didn’t enjoy it,” he blurted as an afterthought.

I raised a hand to shut him up before either of us died of embarrassment. “Keanu? Perhaps you’d like to stop talking now.”

He looked grateful. “Yes. Thank you. Um, did you have anything you wanted to add?”

Although I in no way
wanted
to continue the conversation, there was at least one thing that made no sense. “I know you said our emotions could egg each other on, but I didn’t feel, you know,
sexy
after watching Ian disembowel Eggplant.” Nor was vomiting my idea of foreplay—not that I planned to mention that incident ever again. 

“It’s not only about you though, Rory. Bloodlust and hysteria aren’t so different. Adrenaline is high, your blood rate is up and the absence of fear is like a drug.”

I stared in disbelief. “An absence of fear? Were we in the same living room last night?”

Keanu waved a hand dismissively. “Two against one? There was no real danger.”

“Is that so?” My fingers began drumming involuntarily in annoyance.

“Definitely.” Keanu beamed. “You saw how soon it was over. Makes for a bigger rush.”

“You don’t say…” My fingers all but drilled through the leather on the sofa, but Keanu remained oblivious.

“Oh yeah. Even if Ian had been reluctant to kill Eggplant, we both would have felt the bloodlust. However, in a situation like last night where Ian was fighting for his home and to protect you—unequivocally certain of his actions—well, you saw the energy it invoked even when we’d felt ill moments earlier. I only regret not having avenged Dominic’s abduction personally.”

That did it.

“Avenged Nicky’s abduction? You think that’s what Ian did by killing Eggplant? That’s the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard! I hope you two enjoyed beating on your manly chests, because all you managed to do was slaughter the one
person who knew Nicky’s location. For all we know, we’ve signed his death warrant and left him to starve!”

In a rare understanding of the female psyche, Keanu indulged me in my flounce to the door before grabbing my wrist. “Rory, wait. We have her phone.”

It stopped me mid-doorway. “A cell phone? Eggplant’s cell phone?” I wheeled around and commenced a verbal assault. “Where is it? Why aren’t we working on it? Can we use it? Can we track it?” Then it hit me. “Why am I hearing about this
now
?”

If Keanu could’ve blushed, he would have. “Originally we didn’t want to upset you more than you already were, and then later… I mean, I can’t speak for Ian, but I sort of forgot about it. See, the phone doesn’t work right now, but don’t worry, we’ll be able to access the data by tomorrow.”

My eyes narrowed as I stalked back to the sofa. “Explain.”

“Ian grabbed the phone and tossed it to me while Eggplant was still alive. Either he threw it too hard or I gripped too tightly when I caught it. It’s cracked, but it’ll be okay,” he said before I could explode. “Eggplant was using a human cell phone.”

“A
human
phone?” Images of men sending smoke signals popped into my head.

Keanu shook his head. “I’m sorry. I meant a phone made for humans, not for vampires. Cell phones manufactured for humans haven’t changed much, but
Fang Innovations
built their business on vampire friendly technology. For instance, vampires don’t care how heavy our cell phones are. We care whether we’ll accidentally break them.
F.I.
got its start modifying tech to make it more durable.”

“Huh.” I quashed a low grade urge to re-examine the guest room computer. “So Eggplant’s phone broke in the, um, scuffle, but it can be repaired?” Bloodbath was a more appropriate term, but I didn’t need the imagery. I still held out hope of eating my macaroni and cheese sometime today.

“The screen is beyond repair,” Keanu admitted, “but the chip inside is intact. We need a new phone in the same model to access the chip’s data and then we’ll have all of Eggplant’s information at our fingertips.”

“Like what?”

“Well,” Keanu laughed. “For one thing, we’ll finally know her name. Once we can use the phone, at a bare minimum I’ll be able to access her account information. Her name, where she’s from, how she pays her bills, and most importantly the numbers of everyone she’s been in contact with.”

“Oh, I get it.” I sat straighter in my excitement. “And once you have more phone numbers you can trace them too. Wait, how does that work? Is that legal? What if you get caught?”

Keanu looked offended and I was on the verge of apologizing when he answered. “It’s completely illegal, but I can’t believe you think I’d get caught. Honestly, Rory, do you think so little of me?”

I swallowed my near-apology. “Silly me, I can’t imagine why I was concerned.”

“Me either,” Keanu said with a smirk. “Anyhow, if we get lucky, the data from the phone company will only be the beginning. Her phone has all the standard features. Voicemail, text messaging, email… Eggplant’s entire life might be in that phone.”

“Where do we get another phone to find out?”

Keanu glanced at the time stamp on the wall screens. “We should own one by dinnertime, give or take. We checked online, but this particular phone hasn’t been stocked by stores in years. Ian is monitoring an online auction for it on Vee-Bay.”

It took all my strength to keep a straight face. “Vee-Bay?”

“Yeah, it’s where both humans and vampires can resell items they no longer need. It’s not like it used to be because shipping is such a hassle, but Ian found a listing for an identical phone right in Niagara Falls. After he wins, you can retrieve it later today.”

“What if he loses?” I laughed before Keanu’s eyebrow could even fully raise. “Sorry, that was a stupid question.”
With Ms. Parkes’ money behind him, no doubt Ian could spend a small fortune to acquire the old phone. I smiled, thinking of the random stranger in Niagara Falls who was about to have a lucky day.

CHAPTER

TWENTY
-
EIGHT

SEEING as I couldn’t pick up the phone
until after the auction, I decided to forge ahead with the celebratory dinner I’d suggested long ago. After all, I’d done three practice meals with Ms. B. and it would have been a shame to waste the effort—particularly since my menu had required a trip to the pig farm earlier this week. (Ian had even agreed to eat what I cooked.)

Even better, the kitchen was a great place to stay out of sight without looking like I was still hiding from Ian. Seeing Keanu hadn’t been unbearable, but he wasn’t my benefactor. All I could think about was my next blood draw and whether Ian would detect any difference in my blood after last night. The thought was sufficiently cringe-worthy to make me throw myself into the cooking preparations.

I began with the dough for the homemade ravioli that would serve as the main side for my crown roast of pork. While the dough ‘relaxed’—whatever that meant—I hurried to prep the white mushroom sauce and the butternut squash filling for the ravioli.

Once the dough was ready, I hummed mindlessly as I filled each ravioli and popped them in the fridge, stopping only to shift my laundry to the dryer and re-heat my now cool macaroni. I didn’t enjoy cooking, but it was an excellent way to fill several otherwise empty hours. It was also a great distraction from both my fear for Nicky and my unwelcome memories of last night. I had to focus as I poured wine into my white asparagus cream soup and assembled the dough for my cheddar and sage biscuits.

Then it was time to tackle my roast and I truly thought of nothing else until it was stuffed with its load of breaded chestnuts and basking happily in the oven. And if I had to yank it out thirty seconds later to remove the gold paper frills I’d put on too early, well, hopefully Keanu wouldn’t notice if I snitched a second set.

I’d declared the kitchen off limits so I’d have no witnesses if anything caught fire. While the roast was cooking, I carefully set the table with the cobalt and gold Fabergé china I’d wheedled from Keanu. (No way in hell would I risk Ms. Parkes’ presidential dishware.)

He entered casually as I was finishing. Too casually.

I almost snorted at his attempt at subtlety. “Will you stop worrying that I’m going to break something? Everything is fine.”

Keanu didn’t meet my gaze. I’d called it correctly. “I was look—”

“Out.” I pointed at the door in exasperation. “If you feel like being useful you can go find something pretty for the table, but you’re not going to hover in here.”

“But I want to see what you’re doing,” he complained. “I mean come on. Kitchen-wise, it’s like you’re Luke and I’m Yoda!”

I paused in the act of placing a fork. “Are you implying you’re my
Jedi kitchen master
?” I slowly circled the table.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Keanu retreated to the doorway. “I’ll find some flowers and be back before dinner.” And with a whoosh, he was gone. 

Shaking my head, I returned to the kitchen and judged it was time to put my baked apples in. They’d take anywhere from thirty to forty minutes, and I set the timer to twenty minutes as a reminder to finish the biscuits and ravioli. Oh, and I needed to heat the soup. 

Wiping my hands on a dishrag, I decided I had plenty of time to change my clothes before dinner. As I snagged dry clothes and walked to Ian’s bedroom, I wished I’d brought something nicer than khakis and a tank top. After all, I’d planned this meal as a celebration.

Still, I hadn’t, so khakis and a tank top it would be. 

I hustled into my clean clothes, taking a few minutes to brush my hair. Then, after stuffing my improvised capri pants into my bag—Ian could never wear them again—I went to tell the guys dinner would be ready in half an hour.

A quick check of the ovens assured me nothing had burned, and the lack of flowers in the dining room told me Keanu hadn’t returned. That left me with no more excuses to avoid Ian.

Since Ian had been tracking the online auction, I walked to his office, the only room I’d never seen. For the first time, its door was cracked open and I heard the stereo playing softly as I came closer. I paused when I came close enough to peek into the room. 

Continuing the theme of the house—except for Keanu’s rooms, which had no discernible theme beyond ‘mess’—the room was done in rich midnight blue. The metallic accent of choice was pewter and the slate floor tiles matched the desktop’s stone slab.

Ian sat on a wing chair covered in charcoal suede, playing the gold harp from the living room. I’d thought no one ever played the harp because it had been in the guest rooms. Apparently I’d assumed incorrectly.

He’d closed his eyes, clearly caught up in the music and I hesitated to knock. Of course, I’d underestimated his hearing. He spoke without opening his eyes. “Is everything all right, Aurora?”

“Sorry to bother you. I wanted to tell you dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes.” I couldn’t help myself. “I didn’t know you played. I didn’t think you spent much time in the guest rooms.”

His eyes fluttered open and when he gestured to the right, I took it as permission to enter. I pushed open the door and smiled. No wonder Ian had left the gold harp in the guest rooms. He had another harp here, larger and silver where the other was gold. 

“It’s beautiful. You know, when I went into the guest rooms last night, I went with the intent of learning about your harp. The gold one,” I clarified.

“I know.”

“You did?”

“Of course. You left your printouts on the floor.”

I’d forgotten. “Under the circumstances, I’m sure you understand why. But if you prefer this other harp, why bring Goldilocks in here?”

He ran a hand lovingly over the strings. “Goldilocks, as you put it, needed cleaning after last night. It could have waited, but I realized you were interested in learning to play.”

“You’ll let me use it?”

“Of course. Goldilocks might be a better size for you anyway—‘just right’ as it were. If you have a minute, I’ll show you how to hold her.”

“I have a few minutes. You can hear the stove timer from here, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then absolutely. I mean, yes, please.”

Ian rose and gestured for me to take his seat. Then he stood in front of me and began to position my hands. And then he stopped. “I’m looking at this backward, I need to reverse everything. Better yet,” he decided, easing behind my chair, “I’ll look at everything the way it’s supposed to be.”

It was nerve-wracking to have him in such close proximity, just beyond my line of vision. I felt his breath on my bare neck and his hair brushing my face as he leaned over to position my arms and hands.

“Posture is very important, as is the amount of tension in your arms. You can’t keep them rigid, but a strong frame is required. Think fluid, think flexible, but nothing should be allowed to flop about.”

Flopping. Something else I could never imagine Ian doing. Still, I pictured how his arms and hands had looked and did my best to duplicate it.

“Like this? Is this… close?” I forgot my question as I turned to get his opinion and found his face a hairsbreadth away from mine.

My carefully tensed arms went slack as our gazes caught and held. For a long moment we were immobile, until Ian pulled away.

“Ah, the kitchen buzzer is going off.” Ian appeared slightly flustered, but less so than I—on multiple counts.

“My dinner!” Though I’d left time to spare, I jumped like I’d been scalded. What the hell was
wrong
with me?

He misinterpreted the cause of my agitation and reassured me. “Don’t worry, nothing has burned.” He sniffed the air. “In fact, something smells wonderful. What are you making?” he asked.

I happily took the out I’d been offered.

“You’ll have to wait and see, but it’s very fancy stuff.” I gestured to my outfit and laughed. “I was just thinking I should’ve brought something more appropriate to wear.”

Ian’s eyes lit up and he moved to a slate fronted cabinet on the far wall. Before I could ask, he returned, offering me a pair of pristine white boxes bound with black cord. “Consider this payment rendered.”

I shifted a balance scale in frosted glass to the back of his desk and set the boxes in front of it, tugging the twine over the edges of the larger box and lifting its lid. My mouth fell open.

“Payment rendered, indeed.”

Several weeks had passed since my pink dress had met its untimely demise, and I’d forgotten my friends had promised to replace it. Clearly, Ian hadn’t.

Of course, the dress was beautiful. It was also wildly inappropriate for my normal life, but perfect for tonight. It was a deep blue, but with a dark green sheen to it. I tilted the box and realized the fabric changed hues as it reflected the light.

I lifted the bodice of the dress from the box and laughed as the skirt exploded out from beneath it. It had elbow length
sleeves, a squared neckline, a nipped in waist and a skirt that floofed to maybe mid-calf. It was hard to say without trying it on.  

“This is quite the dress.” I looked at the smaller box apprehensively. “Um, is that Keanu’s selection?” Not much dress would fit in that box.

Ian laughed. “No, those are shoes. Keanu’s dress hasn’t come yet. He’s very cocky about his odds of winning, but I decided I couldn’t go wrong with a throwback to Dior’s ‘new look’—now Dior’s very
old
look.”

He cocked his head and listened. “Keanu’s back. You’d best go get ready.” He gestured to the doorway.

I hesitated, fingering the silky material. “I can’t go pick up a phone in this—they’d think I was insane. Will I have time to change after dinner and still fetch the phone before sunset? What’s the guy’s address?”

Ian’s mouth flexed the tiniest bit in irritation. “We’ve run into a small snag there.”

“Oh no, you didn’t win the phone?”

“What? No, of course I won the auction. However, I received a response email saying the gentleman in question was away until tomorrow morning. I wrote back that you were in town on business and staying at the hotel. You can go meet him as soon as we have an address.”

Panic flared. “Will Nicky be alright until then? What if Eggplant was his only source of food and water?” I fumbled the boxes and Ian promptly caught them.

“Aurora,” he said gently, pressing the boxes back into my hands, “we know of several other vampires who’ve been in contact with him. I doubt Eggplant left him alone. Dominic should be fine. Don’t worry about it.” He nudged me toward the door. “Go on. I’ll make certain Keanu doesn’t wear jeans.”

I felt surprisingly reassured as I left the room, enough to wonder if Keanu owned any pants
other
than jeans. I told myself I’d find out soon enough and hurried back to the kitchen to rescue my roast, finish dinner, and change into my new dress.