“I don’t think you’ll have any problems with that little wound, Miss Atwood,” a menacing voice said behind me.
Marcus gave Alexander Sharpe a forbidding look and ran his hand up my arm. “Are you sure you were hit?”
“I guess not,” I lied because the only evidence left of an injury was a small red abrasion. I’d bled profusely before. The bullet had heated my arm, scorching across it with violent fury, but I had next to no wound.
“I told you it wouldn’t be a problem.” Sharpe watched me with dark, interested eyes. “You should trust me, dear, I am a doctor after all.”
“Come along, cara mia,” Marcus said, taking my hand. “I need to get you home, but it would be best if you cleaned the blood off first.” He began to lead me back into the club. I noticed most of the patrons had come out to watch the scene. My cover with Marcus was well blown. He stopped as we passed Sharpe. His voice was low but his threat was clear. “Whether or not she is in my bed, do not doubt she is under my protection.”
“I think the king will have a say in that, Councilman.” Sharpe grinned, a ghoulish thing in the low light.
“You stay away from her or you will deal with me,” Marcus concluded.
“Of course,” the vampire replied with a deferential nod, but as Marcus solicitously escorted me inside, I could feel Alexander Sharpe’s eyes on me. He wouldn’t give up his game, not when he’d finally found a worthy opponent. He would come after me. Sooner or later, he would come after me.
* * * *
Syl pressed a glass of wine in my hand.
“Here you go, mistress,” the little demon said with great concern in his round black eyes. “Are you warm enough? Do you need me to draw a bath for you?”
I shook my head and downed the wine without thinking. He quickly moved to refill the glass. “I’m fine. Thank you, Syl.”
“Well, I am certain my mistress is anything but fine.” Syl’s tongue clucked as he fussed over me. He reached out and drew the blanket up to my chin. “The master will have to learn to take better care of you. Imagine, allowing vampires into the house, much less letting one be alone with my mistress. You could have been bitten.”
I enjoyed the demon’s fluttering rituals of care and worry. After Marcus got me into the car, he’d been careful not to touch me again, though it had seemed as if his hands kept drifting my way. He’d utterly clammed up and wouldn’t explain anything to me. I’d asked about why the king would have a “say” about me. He’d simply told me not to worry about it. He’d promised to take care of everything, but I wasn’t sure I believed him. His shoulders had been stiff, anger evident in his posture.
I wasn’t completely certain that anger hadn’t been directed at me. Somehow, I’d been able to feel it. Marcus Vorenus had been one pissed-off vamp, but he gave me nothing more than a tight smile and a promise to fix things.
I didn’t realize things were broken. Wasn’t everything better now that I’d solved the case? The bad guy was going to jail and I hadn’t separated his head from his body. I had to call that a win.
Still, something was buzzing in the back of my head. Something about the evening didn’t add up. I shoved it aside, happy to be home.
This was my home now.
“Would you like for me to prepare a meal for you, mistress? After all the master has put you through, you should keep your energy up,” Syl advised. “What is the world coming to when my mistress must deal with vampires and serial killers and all on an empty stomach? I can’t imagine that vampire club had a good restaurant in it.” He shook his head. I was beginning to understand Syl would have very old-fashioned notions of how marriage should work. In Syl’s mind, Gray should provide for the household and I should sit around and let Syl take care of everything else.
“That sounds good, Syl,” I said absently as I stared into the fire. I’d never lived anywhere that had a fireplace before. I’d never lived in anything even vaguely resembling the opulence of Gray’s home.
Syl walked off into the kitchen, muttering about the plight of good servants, his cloven hooves clicking against the hardwood floors. I settled back further in the comfy chair and sipped the white wine Syl had brought me. It tasted sweet and that faint hint of peppermint that seemed to be in everything the demon served. I didn’t mind. I was getting used to it, and I wondered if I could talk Gray into being a little more tolerant of the butler. He seemed so willing to help that it felt wrong to stop him.
I tried to concentrate on good things. I tried to think about Gray and what it would be like to marry him. I would have to change my name and that meant changing my business cards and redoing the lettering on my door at the office. It seemed like a lot of work, but I seriously doubted that Gray would be all right with me keeping Atwood. He seemed a possessive sort of man. What would we do now that the case seemed to be over? The way he’d talked earlier made me think he would want me to move in with him.