Constricted: Beyond the Brothel Walls (12 page)

“Tomas or Tom,” he said, extending his hand. Petre gave his head a slight nod. My hand brushed against his, and all the hairs stood up on my arm. “Mademoiselle, you are a curious one.” He whispered something in another language. I sensed that everyone else did though as Petre’s hands tightened, and those grey eyes glossed over. I sat up but remained on the couch and jerked the pins from my hair. The two men spoke in hushed tones as I fluffed it out and cracked the pressure building in my neck. Petre’s color washed away, and his skin became grey and ashen.

I swallowed and shoved the oddness enveloping Tomas aside. “It’s rude to speak about me like I’m not here.”

Petre’s lips twitched. He all but demanded I not hold my tongue, and it seemed to please him.

“Indeed, ma petit fee, you must forgive my manners.” He turned to Petre and said, “Will you tell her, or should I?” Tomas had paused for a moment to glance at him and then glided to my side. “The life you once knew is but a façade.” My eyebrow rose at his term, and he halted to explain. Petre left the room, and the back door slammed. “We’ve orchestrated this new world.”

Why would he have left me alone with this stranger? Was he coming back? Had I been wrong to snap at Tom? My body shuddered as the man leaned closer and invaded my personal space. “Don’t worry about Petre.” Worry, I mouthed. “He loves you and wishes to protect you from our world.” Protect, I mouthed as the heat crept into my cheeks. The words clashed together in my head: love, worry, and protect. Did Petre love me? I winced at the peculiar thought. Why would he want to die if he truly loved me? The weight of his words crushed upon me. Every inch of my soul torn asunder on the inside, but on the outside my jaw had simply clenched. Tomas leaned away, and I inhaled, driving the air through my gritted teeth. “But you are already of our world, ma petit fee.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. The fire cracked, and I turned to gaze at the smoldering embers. My eyes lifted to where the painting used to hang. “Why did … do I …” What were the words?

“Before even my time the world had creatures and magic.” My eyes widened, and I faced to him. “Yes, I can read your thoughts just as you can sense magic.” Thomas reached for a glass on the table and handed it to me. The brown liquid sloshed but didn’t spill. “Drink, you’ll need it.”

I took a small sip and grimaced as the fire rushed down my throat. “What is that?”

“Whiskey, now ma petit fee, you are quite remarkable. In my time, we would’ve named you an oracle, or soothsayer.” Tom motioned for me to take another sip, and I complied. “Tell me of your nightmares.”

For as long as I could remember, I had dreams, but it was the darkest ones that came true. I explained all of them to the vampire as he nestled into an armchair, at least those I recalled, but held back the most recent dream with Petre.

His hand reached for my cheek, but I shied away. “I won’t bite,” Tomas said, but my mind and body refused his words. “You’re hiding something about Petre. A war brews within you even now.” His forehead wrinkled, and his blond brows rose. “Ma petite fee, you don’t trust him even after I told you the truth.”

My head whipped toward the heat of the fire. “If he loved me then he wouldn’t leave me to die.”

“But why would you …” His words trailed as the images flashed through my mind. I blinked as he perched at my feet, and his kind eyes softened with his words. “Oh, little one, that cannot be, for you cannot break Petre or Demon Spawn’s curse.”

A tear slid free, and Tom reached forward. “Don’t touch me.” I gathered my skirts and rose. He followed, quicker than I realized. Blocking the door, his body spanned the frame. “Let me pass.”

Tomas removed the glass from my hand; I hadn’t realized I still held it and grabbed my wrist with the other. “Not yet.” His mouth kissed across my veins. My eyes glanced away, and inside I cursed Petre for leaving me alone with him. How was I to trust a man who pawned me over to his friends? Did he want me to do this? Allow the vampire weirdo to bite me? Tears blinked from my eyes as his grip tensed. Fangs sliced into my wrist as the burn spread over my shaking arm.

“Stop,” I wailed and dragged my hand away. His grip tightened, and I screamed louder. Images had flashed before my eyes. Memories I had buried resurfaced, as the yells grew hoarser. “Please,” I begged, as the visions of Jules attacked. “Petre,” I whispered one last plea, and his arms, cold and comforting, wrapped around me.

“Enough Tomas,” he growled. “She’s been through too much. I should never have agreed.” His distant voice became an echo, but I sunk my claws into it and grounded myself. “I’m sorry Angel.”

“You brought this on yourself, Petre. She’s part of our world whether you like it or not.”

He sighed, dragging me closer. “She’s not the one.”

“On the contrary my dears. Take her to Demon Spawn and see for yourself.” He inclined his goggled head. “I am never wrong.”

“Explain.” My foot stomped, and I fled his hold. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here.” Dizziness washed over me, and I clung to Petre. “You said I couldn’t.” He’d lied; they both lied and like a fool, I believed
.

Petre chuckled, moving quicker than me and brushing his lips against mine. My arms shoved against his chest. “Too bad she doesn’t have a sister,” Tomas mumbled, and I laughed at the absurdity of the evening, my situation, and the comments he’d made. Petre glowered and sank into a chair. My eyes drifted toward the stairs, but I’d witnessed his speed, and there were no doors to which he didn’t have a key. Contract or not, I was a prisoner, and human or not, I wasn’t a vampire. There was nowhere for me to run or hide, so I stood there and crossed my arms over my chest. “Your spirit and ambition are commendable. You will come to no harm.”

Petre swirled a glass. “Do not make promises you can’t keep, Tom.” He downed the contents and tossed the glass into the fire. Even though I anticipated the crash, my heart still leapt at the sound.

“Why would you hurt me?” My voice shuddered and betrayed me. Petre said nothing and stared into the sizzling embers. I eyed his fingers as they curled into his palms, and his shoulders squared. Far too young compared to Tom and much too young for the weight he carried, but neither gave him cause to harm me. I tiptoed closer and refused to be ignored but remained cautious. My hand trembled as I reached for his shoulder. Petre snatched it and folded his large hand around mine but still chose to remain silent.

The air thickened, sweetened almost, and I turned my thoughts toward Tomas. The same question I’d posed for Petre, I’d asked of him. What I hadn’t expected was the answer rattling around inside my head.
“He didn’t mean harm you directly, but that neither of us can control the world. While you may not be as weak as another human, you still aren’t like us.”

“Angel, please lend a hand to Mellissa; I want to have a word with Tomas.”

I
hunched over the table as the whispered voices rose and fell from the living room. Mellissa busied herself with the meal preparations, but she often stopped and shook her head as if she was arguing with herself. The door creaked open, and a frosty Jobe shuffled in with a bundle of firewood. Snow melted and dripped onto the floor as I rushed to his side.

“No, no wee one this is my job,” he scolded. Mellissa chuckled, and my cheeks burned. “You’ll make a mess of your lovely dress, and Lord Petre shall tan my hide. Sit.”

I stared down at my hands, not understanding how I’d ever fit in this strange world. All I knew of life was servitude, and the girls at the house were my family even if they’d treated me with disdain. They were my responsibility, and I’d taken care of them all. To just sit here hadn’t made any sense when I was more than capable of lending a hand.

My lips pried away, and I faced the strange vampire. I hadn’t realized that Tom had entered the room. His mouth curled into a half, but I glanced around him in search of Petre. Hands fell on my shoulders, and I screamed, jumping from the chair and clutching my chest. My eyes darted between the clattering seat as it toppled on the floor and a smirking Petre.

“Mary, Jesus, and Joseph, you’ll give the young a miss a heart attack.”

Water rushed in my ears, and I shook my head. My heart refused to calm down even though it had been a cruel joke. I had always fallen for them. Jules and the girls had loved making me the simple fool. My chin lifted, and I forced air through my lungs. No more, no longer, I had silently vowed and envisioned the walls building around me; they had built around my heart.

Tomas inched closer, and his brows knitted together. “Fascinating,” he said. “She’s blocking me.” His hands cupped my face, and the touch pushed a wave over my skin.

My jaw clenched as the room grew silent. “Don’t touch me.” Tom’s hands fell away, and I stepped backwards toward the stairs. He muttered something in his strange tongue as I took another step. The dribbled water splashed under my bare feet and rushed a chill through my already trembling body. Petre’s eyes fixated on me as his emotions churned, but there were too many.

Another step and my shaky leg slipped. My body and mind braced for the impact, but it hadn’t come. Words rushed into my ears as multiple voices said my name and gasped, but only one had mattered, and it had belonged to the arms cradling my head a mere smidgen from the bottom step. “Will you stop running from me?” he asked as concern wrinkled his grey eyes.

Part of me wanted to respond, but I could no more trust the words dancing on the tip of my tongue than I could him. I’d never spoken the nasty thoughts reeling through my mind or said the dirty words aloud. Yet in that peculiar moment, knowing that I was the weak one, I said, “You bastard.”

Cold hands retreated, and my head smacked against the wooden step. Mellissa, unable to stop herself, had smacked Petre upside his head with her dishrag. I rubbed the side of my head as the dull ache settled and had laughed.

“Sorry.” He extended his hand, but I shook my head and stood on my own. I clutched my belly as a wave of nausea rolled over me. “Kor.” Voices sounded at once, as I reached for the banister and heaved.

Words entered my mind: concussion, contusion, head injury, and other terms I couldn’t comprehend. My lips moved, but proper sounds refused to form as Mellissa and Petre hovered over me. My speech slurred as I pushed them away, my hand jutting out and waving them from my side. Leave me alone, I repeated in my mind and hoped Tom would pass the message along. While it hadn’t been the worst night of my life, I’d had enough of everyone’s games. Enough to last a lifetime and enough to end my pain even if it meant that Jules had won. My hopes and dreams flashed as a metallic liquid filled my mouth. I gagged and spat it out.

“Drink the damn blood, Angel.” But darkness overtook me instead.

T
he dream turned weird. The man with a hat waited for me on a cliff, and the briny ocean waves crashed around him. His shorter hair fanned his neck like a fiery halo, and his dark duster blew in the wind. “I’ve searched for you, but every time you’re within my grasp, someone takes you away, Angel.”

I stared at the man’s back as he shucked the long coat. Silver pistols rested in his holsters. Right about now I’d run, and he’d give chase like all the previous dreams. Tonight I stood my ground and faced the man of my nightmares.

“Take him down; Jules must fall.”

He spun and red eyes glowed brighter than his auburn hair. A jagged scar tore down his rough jaw. The stranger approached; his body jingling with each step as my heart pounded. “Angel,” he said and cupped my cheek in his gritty palm. “I’ll find you again, my sweet Angel.”

My throat burned dry as the inferno slid down my throat. I coughed, unable to form words, unable to ask him why he had wanted to find me. The dream blurred as I reached for him. As if someone dropped water over the surface, my surroundings had vanished. I blinked, and my reality came into view again.

Petre crushed me against his chest and murmured his apologies. My fist slammed into him as he squeezed the life from my lungs. “Petre,” I wheezed.

“Let her up, ami. She cannot breathe.” Mellissa placed a cool cloth over my head, and she didn’t try to hide the worry lines smooshing her features. Jobe sat at the kitchen table and drummed his fingers over the surface. Tomas loomed over me like the vile slug I’d come to loathe.