When she stood, he reached a hand out to steady her, and she glanced at it before looking back to his eyes and refusing his hand. She turned and left him once again, hurting. She was exceptionally good at being cruel when she wanted to be, but then again, so was he. They were destroying one another.
Ember spent the next few days pathetically trying to immerse herself in books she had no real hope of caring about, or she withdrew to the pool to float around in the weightlessness of the water every day for hours. Truman either worked at his desk or simply disappeared. One day she happened upon a meeting as she was returning to their apartment after a swim. She paused as she stepped from the stairwell onto their floor, listening to the voices. She’d been told of Truman’s duty to reclaim his family’s allegiance, and the meeting she’d stumbled upon most definitely revolved around this.
“He can keep his holdouts if he sees fit. The vast majority of your family’s bloodline has abandoned him, and you’ll have no trouble gaining their support. From what we can tell, they’re as ready to be done with Mason as we are, and most simply had no other choice but to go along with his lead. They’re tired of being shunned by the vampire community. That’s good news for you, Truman.” It was Angus who had spoken. He’d visited Ember a time or two, and from what she could tell, he was decent and genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. Angus was a handsome man, as most of the men she’d encountered in this place were. He had dark hair and beautifully contrasting light blue eyes.
Ember was learning she was likely the only female in the building, and it would appear the council liked it that way. They were terribly old-fashioned in that respect, but Ember suspected it had far more to do with the iron fist that ruled them, Sylvan, than anything else. Unlike Angus and Dr. Bremmer, Sylvan was cool to her at best on the rare occasion he’d stopped in their residence for one reason or another. He regarded her in distrust and treated her as though she was an unwelcome visitor. His behavior toward her suggested he thought of her as a lesser being than himself, and this did nothing but increase her suspicion that perhaps the vampire kind were something of a sexist bunch. Angus on the other hand showed none of these feelings in his behavior.
“The holdouts alone aren’t my concern. It was always Mason who held the power, and the holdouts are nothing but simpering spineless leaches. It’s how Mason may choose to use them. He’ll exact his revenge, and you better believe it will be aimed at the family.” Truman was speaking, and it was the first time in days she’d heard his voice. Neither of them had spoken or even looked at the other for the past three days, and it was wearing on her. Ember was getting hungry again, and it was becoming painful. But her pride or her fear or perhaps just absolute stubbornness were keeping her from approaching him—especially after the torment of last time. She couldn’t hold out much longer, but the prospect of asking was daunting.
“No, Truman. It will be aimed at you and Ember. The council will protect you, but he’ll be a threat until he’s destroyed.”
“I can take care of myself, but Ember must be protected.” Her body coursed with a sudden spark of emotion, but it flitted away as their conversation continued.
“You still care for her even though she’s given you no reason to?”
“I don’t know how I feel anymore. Her survival was all I thought about when she was dying. I never imagined this existence or how impossible it would be.” The spark was replaced by sadness. She was the one who had pushed him away, but his words hurt like a slap across the face regardless.
“Give it time.”
“We’re just torturing one another at this point.” And after a long pause and a deep sigh, he continued. “Would the council consider giving her to another to sire if I requested it?” Ember stilled at his words, and the sadness became utter despair.
She saw a flash of him in her mind. Another snippet of memory, but he was smiling at her in this one. And as she focused on this memory, she watched him stroke her skin. She could feel the emotion behind the memory for the first time, and it was overwhelming. She had cared about him. She’d been enamored with him. And she had absolutely trusted him. When the memory passed, she was left with the words being spoken from the apartment.
“It would be easier on her, and myself as well, if she was sired to someone else.” His voice sounded resigned. He’d given up.
“Truman, Sylvan would likely give you whatever you asked for. He’s simply happy to have your family represented and to finally be done with Mason. But think carefully of what you’re saying. If she’s sired to another, you’ll no longer have a say in her life whatsoever, and for a man who’s spent the better portion of her life protecting and looking after her, I find it hard to believe you could walk away so easy.”
“Well I find it hard to believe that surviving an eternity like this will be possible for either one of us. I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t stand the way she looks at me. The way she feels about me.”
Ember wanted to cry, and after standing in the hall without moving a muscle, she finally made her way to their apartment and entered. She wanted to slink away to the bedroom and hide, but the moment she entered, Angus looked up and called her over. She stood by as he greeted her, standing, and when Ember’s eyes glanced up to Truman, he was looking off in the distance, avoiding her. Angus left, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, and as the door closed behind him, Ember looked at Truman.
Rounding the desk, forcing herself into his line of sight, she spoke. “I’m hungry…” She was also exceptionally hurt by the conversation she’d overheard, but she was stifling it. Her anger, hurt, confusion—every last awful emotion she’d felt since coming to this place hadn’t helped their situation. She’d been cruel and mean as she tried to make her way through his world, and she was no better off for it. So she stowed the negativity as well as she could. She held her hands clasped in front of her, rather than crossing her arms in contempt, and she forced herself to be far more submissive than her defensive vulnerability wanted her to be.
He looked up to her, and the coolness of his eyes had her hands unclasping and her arms folding across her chest before she even registered the hurt, but the moment she caught her subconscious body language, she clasped her hands together again and spoke. “Please don’t ask me to kneel.” Her voice was quiet, and she hoped he could sense her desperation, though the wounded, vulnerable part of her psyche wanted to slap him just to maintain her footing.
He stood and walked away from her to the living room area of their open residence, and her gaze followed him. He sat in an armless occasional chair, and Ember trilled in irritation and hurt at his obvious rejection, but when he unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt, she relaxed, let go of her rejection, and approached him. When he was finished with the cuff, he moved to the opposite wrist, and she was left confused but too intimidated to ask. When he unbuttoned his collar and worked his way down his shirtfront, her heart lurched. She had no idea what he intended, but it wasn’t what she’d expected.
He shrugged out of his shirt, pulling it from the waist of his trousers, and as he tossed it aside, his eyes looked to hers. She looked down to see her arms crossed across her chest again, and she quickly dropped them to her sides. He reached for her hip, and she took an inadvertent step back from him before biting her lip and stepping back to him once again. With his hand, he guided her body to his, and with his other hand to the inside of her naked thighs, covered only by her robe and bikini bottoms, he pushed them apart to straddle his legs. She sank slowly to his thighs, facing him, and once she was seated, he clasped both of her hips with his large, strong hands and pulled her hips to his groin.