“That’s ridiculous. What happened to you—to all of us—can’t happen again. We have better safeguards in place now.” Chuck graced her with a look dripping with syrupy sympathy, the kind reserved for people with a phobia everyone else thought was stupid. “It was a long time ago. You need to get over it.”
Get over it. He wasn’t the one who’d barely survived a brutal attack that killed almost everyone she loved and left her with a rare medical condition that would
eventually kill her. Right now, the meds developed by
Daedalus scientists were helping to control the disease ravaging her organs, but eventually, she’d grow resistant. Then she’d have a lot of misery to look forward to until she finally died in agony.
So, yeah, get over it wasn’t an option.
“Attacks on humans by their servants still happen,” she pointed out, although, granted, rebellion wasn’t that common. Microchip implants that could be activated by special remote wrist devices kept vampires in fear for their health and were much more effective than the old-style collars that only kept vampires from crossing barriers.
But if the Vampire Humane Society had anything to say about it, the new devices would soon be outlawed. Nicole shivered, once again wishing she was still in Paris, where groups like the VHS weren’t tolerated, and vampire slaves were an extravagance reserved only for the wealthiest of the wealthy.
“Don’t worry, Nikki. My servants wouldn’t dare lay a hand on me or my family.”
Nicole’s father had probably believed the same thing, until a vampire decapitated him and left his head mounted on a newel post only a few feet from where Nicole now stood.
You believed Terese would never harm you.
Nicole still believed that. The vampire had been like a big sister to Nicole, spending time with her when her mother couldn’t, teaching her things her tutors wouldn’t. Terese’s gentleness and the ring Nicole now wore on her right hand were what Nicole clung to when she needed to be reminded that not all vampires were monsters.
But then she remembered that Terese had died at the hands of another vampire. A vampire she’d trusted with all her heart. Nicole hadn’t seen much that day, but what she had seen—a blade at Terese’s throat, held there by her mate as Terese pleaded and cried—was seared into Nicole’s brain. Terese, so birdlike and fragile, was certainly no match or the much larger male whose growl had frightened Nicole so badly she’d wet herself.
The scene replayed itself over and over in Nicole’s nightmares. Sometimes in those dreams, Nicole tried to overpower Riker and save Terese. Sometimes Nicole managed to scream, something she hadn’t done in real life. But the end result was always the same.
Terese would die, and usually, Riker killed Nicole, too.
With his teeth.
Swallowing against bloody nightmares and the too-vivid real-life memories, Nicole hovered her finger over the end button on the tele-screen. “I gotta go, Chuck. Roland is going to help me review my presentation to the board.”
Chuck nodded. “Don’t stay up too late. Get some rest. And for God’s sake, be on time tomorrow. You need every minute you can get if the board is going to rule at one o’clock sharp whether you’re there or not.”
As if she needed the reminder that the trajectory of her entire career was going to be determined one hour after lunch, when everyone on the board was full of food and liquor. Jesus. She was facing an absolute catastrophe. This wasn’t the job she would have chosen for herself, especially not after dedicating her life to becoming an expert in vampire physiology. But the inherited duty had been thrust upon her, and she’d always prided herself on being the best at whatever she did. Even if what she did wasn’t what she wanted to do.
Failing her parents’ company, especially after the tragedy that had killed them, would be devastating.
“’Night, Chuck.” Nicole clicked off the comm unit and started toward the grand living room. She’d been here almost two months, but she still took the long route, avoiding the dining area where her mother had “passed away.”
Passed away. The words everyone but Nicole used for what happened sounded so . . . polite, when there’d been nothing polite about it. Elise Martin had had her throat brutally ripped out, but only after she had to endure unspeakable torture at the hands of her assailants.
The front door creaked open, and Nicole made a mental note to say something to Roland about letting himself in so casually. She’d let it go this long because he’d lived here as the caretaker for years while Nicole was in France, but now that she was back, he needed to learn to knock.