When I get home after closing the coffee shop, I find my sister on the couch, watching Real Housewives, a glass of wine in hand.
Though every donor family receives a stipend from their vampires, Kelly works full-time at the city clerk office. I don’t exactly know what she does, but it often leads to her downing a bottle of wine every night.
There’s already an empty bottle on the kitchen counter.
“Hey,” I call.
“Hey. How was work?”
I look at Bran’s house through the kitchen window. I think his house is a mirror of ours. His kitchen looks at our kitchen, which would mean his dining room was opposite ours, and his living room is in the front of the house.
There’s a light on in the dining room, but I don’t catch any movement.
Maybe he’s watching me from the shadows and will use this against me in the future.
I turn away.
I will be extremely happy when I move from this place.
“The shop was slow tonight,” I answer Kelly and plop down on the other side of the couch.
“Mmmmm,” she says as she sips at her wine, her attention more on the TV than on me.
“I have a question for you,” I say.
One of the women on the TV shouts at another. Kelly waves at me and says, “Hold on just a sec.”
On the show, more women join in until the whole room is screaming at one another.
While I cleaned up the coffee shop, my mind wandered over the possible reasons my sister could have to encourage Duval House to bid on me over the Locke House.
Maybe the Lockes haven’t been treating her well? After our parents died, Kelly and I would have dinner with Julian Locke at least twice a month. I thought he was going to ask Kelly to be his blood mate, but his visits stopped all of a sudden.
I just assumed she’d turned him down.
The Duvals have more money than the Lockes, so maybe my sister just wants to think of my future?
Or maybe there’s a reason that I’m not even thinking of.
“Kels,” I try again.
“Can this wait? You know this is my favorite show.”
If I wait another hour to talk to her, she’s going to be drunk and passed out. I have to catch her after work and before wine.
With a sigh, I stand up. “Sure.”
“Thanks, Jess,” she says before taking another sip. She’s drinking red tonight, which usually means she had a really, really shitty day.
There’s another reason Kelly might encourage a Duval bid—maybe she wants to get rid of me.
Humans pledged to different vampire Houses can’t live together. When a vampire drinks from you, their scent is all over you. Humans co-habiting share scents, too. Vampires, much like the shifters, are a territorial lot.
Kelly did take on a lot of responsibility after our mom died. Kelly was only twenty-six at the time. I was seventeen. She sold her condo on the river and moved back home so I didn’t have to disrupt my life.
I was so deep in the grief that I never did thank her for it.
And maybe now she’s ready to move on from the responsibility.
“Kel?” I say.
“Hmmm?”
“Love you.”
She finally looks over at me and smiles. “Love you too, you nerd. Now go.”
I grab my bag from the counter and disappear upstairs. In my room, I collapse on my bed and check my phone to find a text from my best friend, Samantha.
Party at the Harbor tomorrow night, the text reads. You game?
I call her because I have so much to tell her, and it’s too much to type.
“Say yes,” Sam says by way of a greeting.
“The party? Sure I guess.”
“Yay.”
“So, I have a super weird story.”
“Oh do tell.”
I roll over on my belly and hold myself up on my elbows. I can just see a sliver of Bran’s bedroom window. The room is dark. He can probably hear me talking, but I don’t care.
I relay the coffeeshop story to Sam.
Being my best friend, she responds accordingly with, “What. The. Fuck.”
“I know. You think Bran’s lying?”
I can just picture him hearing this and rolling his eyes in a very smarmy vampire way.
“As much as I want to say yes, why would he? Has he ever even talked to you before?”
“You know how to make a girl feel so damn cool.”
Oh shit, shouldn’t have said that. Now Bran’s gonna think that I’ve been wanting him to talk to me and that him talking to me somehow makes me feel better about myself.
Or maybe I’m reading way too much into Bran and his feelings, or lack thereof.
Sam munches on something on the other end. “I’m just saying, why would he come to the coffee shop of all places to tell you something completely out of left field?”
“Maybe he’s just trying to get beneath my skin? I think I annoy him.”
“Did you ask Kelly?”
“Not yet. I tried. She shooed me away.”
“Oh yeah. Real Housewives night.”
I stretch just a little when I see a light flick on in Bran’s bedroom. I’m half hanging off the bed at this point. I catch sight of him in the window frame, and then he’s gone again. My heart skitters in my chest.
“So why don’t you go next door and ask him?”
Bran comes back into view of my window and looks across the valley between our houses. I let out a yelp, and in my haste to duck out of sight, I end up falling off the bed and landing with a thud on the floor.
“I can’t do that,” I say to Sam, my face mashed into the rug.
“Yes you can.”
I didn’t tell her he attacked me at the coffee shop. Technically, it was in response to me threatening to murder him, but those are minor details.
“Just go knock on his front door and ask him what he knows,” Sam says like Bran is any old neighbor and my request is for a cup of sugar and not secret details about his family asking for my blood pact.
“Just don’t go inside the house. Stay on the front porch. There’s no telling what someone like Bran Duval would do to a poor innocent virgin like yourself.”
“Sam!”
He probably heard that. Not that I necessarily care if he knows I’m a virgin. In a town like this, it’s practically stamped on our driver’s license.
“Go over there,” she coaxes. “Then tell me what he says. This is kind of a big deal. When’s the last time a rival vamp family bid for someone’s expected blood bag?”
“A long time.”
“Exactly. And if he came to warn you, I’d think that meant he cared to some degree.”
I sit up. “I highly doubt that.”
“Go on. Go.”
“Okay fine. I’m going.”
“Atta girl.”
We say goodbye, and I slip my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. If Bran attacks me again, I want a lifeline.
When I go back downstairs, my sister is still fully invested in her TV show and barely notices me leave through the back door. I make my way around the house and go up the few steps to Bran’s wide front porch. The sun has already set, and the street lights glow golden along the curb, but Bran’s porch is dark.
I reach out and knock on his door.
Immediately, my heart rams into my throat.
What the hell am I doing?
Did he not just have me around the throat in the coffee shop?
I’ll just stay on the front porch like Sam suggested. I’ll keep my distance.
When Bran doesn’t answer, I sigh and turn away—
And nearly run right into him.
