“Yeah, it was about as much as it sounds.” He gives me a hand so I can slip to the edge of the counter. There’s sugar caked on my entire back and everywhere in my hair. “You’ve got egg all over both of us.”
“Now I’m delicious and smoking hot,” he says with a wink. The timer goes off and I pull out some perfect cookies. I grab one and hand another to Ian. They’re scalding hot, but I have baker’s hands after all those years in the kitchen.
Ian takes a huge bite out of his cookie, no doubt burning his tongue. “Come on, let’s go get cleaned up.” He reaches out for me, and hand in hand, snacking on cookies made in the dark, we walk back toward the stairs.
We find Ian’s and my clothes folded and placed on my bed. I blush at that. Did Rath really make those assumptions? But Ian takes his clothes and heads for one of the guest bathrooms while I shower in my own.
I pull on some cotton shorts and a tank when I get out and braid my hair over my shoulder. A minute later, Ian saunters back into my room and leans with his shoulder in the doorway.
“Well, I guess I’d better get back home,” he says. He studies me, but it isn’t demanding, or provocative. He’s just seeing…me.
“You don’t have to,” I confess quietly. Because for the first time since moving here and living in this house, I haven’t felt alone.
Neither of us says anything for a long time. We stare at each other, and there are a lot of thoughts going on. We know this can’t end in a good way. He has his place in life and I have mine, whether I want it or not.
But we’re here. And there’s no question that we are something cosmic when we’re together.
“Okay,” he finally says quietly.
He flicks the light switch off. I turn off the light in the bathroom. We both climb into the gigantic bed, and I tuck myself into Ian’s side. He presses a light kiss to my forehead, wrapping his arms around me.
Here. Here I am safe. Here I am understood.
And that’s it.
We listen to each other breathe for a long while. And eventually, we sleep.
IAN ISN’T THERE WHEN I wake in the morning.
Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. He’s always doing stuff when he should be sleeping. I’m sure he had something to take care of. And he does have work today. He’s doing a double shift.
So, with him out of the way, I spend the day planning my future. Because once again, I’ve just been waiting for the House to take control. It’s time I take matters into my own hands.
At ten o’clock, after the sun has gone down, I walk down to the garage. There’s a row of hooks that hold the keys. I grab the ones for the Jeep, because it’s the least intimidating of all the vehicles.
The engine growls to life, and I carefully back out of the garage. With every day I spend here, I’m feeling more like things are mine. Like it’s okay to touch and use them. I’ve been here for exactly a month now. I don’t get lost in the house anymore. I know where things are. I’ve made a mess in my room, walked through the house naked. I’m feeling at home. This is the house my father lived in and where I should have grown up. The Conrath house feels like it was where I was supposed to end up all along.
The night is quiet and incredibly dark with the moon nothing more than a tiny sliver. I turn onto Main Street, drive a quarter of a mile, and take a left at the bakery. The road stretches on, through the swamp. And then there’s the decaying, half-ruined House. I park right in front of the steps and climb out.
I knock on the front door three times and wait. I’m nervous, that’s without question. But it’s time I grow a backbone.
One of the Bitten I remember from my last visit opens the door. For a second, black veins surface on his face and his eyes brighten to a glowing yellow.
“I want to speak with Jasmine,” I say, sounding confident, despite the immediate threat. I shove my way past him, pulling a stake from my purse.
He gives a small hiss when he sees it, but takes a step back. He’s recognized me now, and I have no doubt he knows what it would mean if he kills me.
“Wait here,” he says with disdain in his voice.
My palms are slick with sweat and my heart is racing. I slip the stake back into my purse. I stand there waiting, listening to the sounds of the House. Cameron and Trinity sound like they’re playing a game somewhere. There’s this metal singing sound I can’t identify. And then there’s a small scream somewhere upstairs, followed by a wet ripping sound.
Now I know where Markov is.
Movement to my right catches my eye.
The door to the library is cracked, and just inside I can see Christian. His fangs are deeply sunk into a woman’s neck. Veins sprout out onto Christian’s face, his eyes glowing. He takes one more pull and releases her. With control and careful movements, he lowers her to the ground.