Half-breed’s Bargain by Samantha Wolfe
11
HARLOW
I feel as if I’ve been having some sort of out-of-body experience by the time we walk out of Lynch’s ridiculous castle. My behavior and the words coming out of me didn’t feel like mine while we were in that library. It’s almost as if the Harlow I used to be came out to play her sick games, and I was just being dragged along for the ride. Now as we walk toward Van’s car, I’m coming back to myself, and it feels like I’m coming apart at the seams. I’m barely aware of Van, Mercer, and Ethan following me to the car, my head held high and my body stiff as I try to keep from collapsing to the ground and curling up into a blubbering heap. I have to hold it together long enough to get away from this place and any spying vampire eyes. Our lives depend on it.
I manage to get into the front passenger seat and close the door, then sit there in stony silence as Van drives away from the house and heads for the gate to get us out of here. I keep my composure long enough for him to pull out onto the road before my entire body starts quaking. I close my eyes and clench my hands into fists to stop the shaking. Instead of it helping, I’m struck by a flash of images of blood and pain and death from all the uncountable and horrible things I did when under Viktor Bravas’ thrall. A wave of nausea that roils in my gut follows the mental assault. I shake my head and pant for air, trying to fight it down, but it only gets worse when my mouth waters and my stomach heaves.
“Pull over!” I croak out as I claw at the door handle with desperate fingers.
I’m hardly register Van telling to hold on as the vehicle lurches over onto the side of the road. I fling the door open and climb out before the car even stops, then stagger over to the grass just a few feet from the road’s shoulder and drop to my knees. Then I hunch over and spew out everything in my stomach onto the ground in front of me, retching repeatedly until I feel like I’m going to pass out from lack of oxygen. Van crouches next to me, murmuring words of comfort and holding my hair out of the way, unfazed by my vomiting. I’m weak and breathless when it passes, with Van holding me up as I swoon against him. I open my eyes and look up to find Mercer and Ethan looking down at me with worried and sympathetic eyes. I give them what I’m sure is a mere ghost of my usual grin and pretend the tears in my eyes are just from throwing up so many times and not my rattled emotions.
“If I’d known all I had to do to win you guys over was to barf on the side of the road,” I say in a rasping voice. “I would have done it earlier.”
Ethan snorts out a laugh as Mercer smiles and asks. “Are you okay now, chérie?”
I nod and my head swims. Bad idea. My stomach threatens to heave again and I clamp my mouth shut, breathing through my nose until the wave of nausea passes.
“Let’s get you back in the car, querida,” Van murmurs as he helps me to my feet.
I lean heavily against him as we turn and walk toward the car, too tired to tell him to stop calling me that endearment again. He tosses the keys to Mercer, who nods and heads for the driver’s side door, while Ethan climbs into the front passenger seat. Van opens the back door and I allow him to help me inside. He gets in beside me and pulls me into his arms again, and I relish it even though I shouldn’t. It feels good. He feels good.
“Take us home,” Van tells Mercer, and I open my mouth to protest. “No arguing,” he says with a stubborn set to his chiseled jaw. “I’m not letting you go home alone like this.”
I’m too exhausted to fight him and just relax into his embrace with an absent nod, then close my eyes and let myself drift in and out of a sleepy daze. I don’t understand it, but for some reason I trust these three men even though I just met them, particularly Van. And for the first time in far too long, I feel safe enough to let my guard down, and it feels good. I try my best to ignore the tiny voice in my head telling me not to get used to it.
Before I know it, Van is jostling me awake, and the car has already stopped. He coaxes me out of the Mercedes and instead of getting out in the parking garage of the Valesco Financial building, I’m in the gravel driveway next to a big house, or should I say mansion, though its stone exterior looks a little worse for wear. It’s very old with a bit of a castle like feel, but where Lynch’s monstrosity of a home was in your face over the top, this one was more subtle about it, not to mention not nearly as big. It has much more of a homey vibe and a lot of potential, despite its somewhat poor condition.
“Where are we?” I ask as Van leads me toward the house with a hand at my waist since I’m still a little unsteady on my feet.
“Home,” he replies.
“But what about the penthouse?” I ask, giving him a questioning look.
“It’s mostly for appearances,” he replies with a shrug. “But it’s not me. I only stay there when it’s convenient. This is where I spend most of my free time.”
“Oh,” I reply, wondering at the wealth it takes to afford both a penthouse and a mansion like this one.
I glance around to find us surrounded by tall mature trees as far into the darkness as I can see and wonder at the size of the property. I hear nothing to suggest we’re near anything urban anymore, just a lot of crickets and the slight night breeze rustling the leaves. It’s peaceful out here and seems more in line with the man I’m getting to know.
We follow Ethan and Mercer to the large ornate front door and Ethan unlocks and opens it. Then the two men walk inside with Van and me right behind them. I don’t know what I expected to find inside, but it isn’t the bare and unfinished foyer we walk into. The floor beneath my feet is faded and scuffed up. The ceiling above has old wooden beams framing cracked and peeling paint. A massive fireplace sits across the room, its masonry a bit soot-stained and doesn’t look like anyone has used it in a very long time. I glance left and right and see several other empty and unfinished rooms. The place needs a lot of work, but I like it already.
We turn left and climb a staircase flanked by wood paneling and an ornate banister that both need refinished, but are no less beautiful for it. When we reach the top floor, it’s as if we walked into a different house. Here the hardwood floors glow and the walls and ceiling gleam with fresh paint. The walls have a few pieces of art hung on them as well, most of them old oil paintings of pastoral settings. Mercer and Ethan bid us goodnight, then head off hand in hand to the left, while Van leads me down the hall in the opposite direction.
“All three of you live here?” I ask.
“Yes,” he replies. “We’ve been slowly fixing it up, but we’ve only managed most of this floor and the kitchen downstairs so far. We still have most of the first floor, three bedrooms on this floor, and twelve more upstairs to do. It’s taking a long time for the three of us to do the work, but we’ll get there.”
“That’s a lot of work for three people.”
“It’s worth it,” he says with a shrug, his voice tighter than it should be given our mundane conversation. “I chose it for its secluded location and the surrounding eighteen hundred square acres of forest so Mercer and Ethan could have space to run and hunt.”
“They’re like family to you, aren’t they?”
“They are my family,” he corrects me just as we stop in front of a closed door. He opens it and leads me inside.
I walk a few steps ahead of him and look around the room. It’s a large bedroom decorated in an old world-style with lots of antique furniture and warm, inviting colors. The massive sleigh bed dominates the room, its bedding luxurious and inviting, along with a huge corner fireplace.
“The bathroom is in there,” he says, and I turn to find him motioning toward a closed door to my left. “Help yourself to whatever you need and get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.” His face is that damn blank mask again that I’m really starting to hate.
“Where will you sleep?” I ask as he turns to leave the room, not wanting him to go. I still feel like my head is in a jumble, and I don’t want to be alone just yet, even though it’s probably best for us to keep our distance. We might be tempted to do things we shouldn’t.
“I’m half fae. I don’t need to sleep every night,” he replies, then turns and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving that odd pulling sensation in my chest in his wake.
I want to call him back to me. I want to feel his arms around me again and his body pressed to mine, to breathe in his heady masculine scent. I want him in this enormous bed with me to do anything but sleep, then twine our sated bodies together and sleep for the rest of the night. But I know that can’t and won’t happen. He’s already made it very clear he doesn’t want me. And even though a rational part of me knows I shouldn’t want him either, I can’t stop how my body and heart ache for him. I turn back to the bed with a heavy sigh, wondering how the fuck I’m supposed to sleep when I’m all hot and bothered like this. Despite how late it already is and how exhausted I am mentally and physically, I’m certain it’s going to a very long night.