Alone (3 page)

Yeah, any
more
sexual. I beat him to the punch and kissed his cheek before rolling over, already uncomfortable enough that he was sleeping in my bed. He was at least a gentleman and took the hint and moved to his side of the bed. Moments later, I fell into the best sleep of my life—even if it was with a stranger in my bed.

The next few days there was a lot of noise outside but none of it bugged me. Conall had a whole new shed put in, when the old one could have just been fixed. He had it filled with wood when winter was a ways off, and the log rack on the patio stacked. He had the
entire
two layer porch redone even if the stairs and some boards only needed replacing.

I figured the owner would have been okay with all of that even if I hadn’t warned him first. It upped the value of the house after all.

Conall had every plant and bush that attracted wasps, bees, or yellow jackets pulled, after he heard I was allergic, and something hummingbird-friendly planted. He also had a team of guys scour the place checking for nests, the woods sprayed for them and bugs of all kinds. My neighbors must have thought—I didn’t even know what and honestly I didn’t care. I kind of wrapped myself in a work bubble. No one came in my space and my garden was done, so I was happy as a clam.

And my author cave was clean and pretty so that was just the icing on my cake. Screw the noise. I had the prettiest landscaping ever, and when I stepped outside, I swore every hummingbird in Nebraska was visiting, and I loved those, so yeah, it was awesome.

But then one morning I woke alone, and while that had been normal for me, given what had been going on lately, it worried me. That probably meant Tim was back and god only knew what was going on in my house
now
. I hurried out of bed and went through my normal morning routine, stopping only to weigh myself as I did every week, almost falling over.

I was down fifteen pounds. That couldn’t be right. I stepped off the scale and stepped back on. No, twenty pounds. No one could lose twenty pounds in one
week.
I raced out of my room, grabbed my contacts, and put them in before darting back to my scale in my closet and got back on it.

Yeah, I was
really
down twenty pounds. I pulled up my shirt and saw there were stretch marks missing. I checked other spots on my body and sure enough more were gone as well.

Holy fuck, his blood is a miracle cure for real!

Wow. Okay, back to the probable invasion of my house. I’d have to ask him that later. I walked out to my kitchen, and sure enough, it was
full
of people.

“Conall, I don’t let strangers in my house without closing up my office and making them sign confidentiality waivers,” I ground out. “Please talk to me before people come into
my
house.”

“All my employees sign confidentiality waivers as well, my Nina,” he assured me with a deep nod. “I apologize. I simply wished to surprise you.” I gave him a tight smile and walked over to the Keurig. He pinned me against the counter and kissed my cheek. “You are so radiant in the morning.” He sank his fangs in my neck, right there, and in front of
everyone
—at least seven people—I had an orgasm. I bit my lip so hard to keep quiet I tasted blood.

The second it was over and I could, I shoved him off me, his teeth tearing my skin a bit since I caught him off guard. He blinked at me as he reached for me. I slapped his hands away with one hand as I moved the other to my neck to apply pressure.

“Don’t you
ever
do that again,” I choked out, mortified in a whole new way as I stared at the floor. “I am not your blood whore. Show some respect for me in my own home where you are a fucking guest.” I hurried out of there, tears in my eyes I didn’t want anyone to see and shut myself up in my room. I locked the door and found the first-aid kit and put some gauze on my neck before I laid back on my bed, staring out the window and seeing nothing.

This was never going to work out. If he could act like that
ever
, we were too different.

I stayed in there all day, ignoring the work I heard going on, hoping they would all leave and I didn’t have to face them. The only time I got up was to change my bandage, worried when it wasn’t healing. Finally around dinner, I caved, dehydrated and starving. The second I opened the door, Conall was there with a look on his face so enraged I found myself taking a shaky step back into the room.

“I apologize for my detestable behavior, it is inexcusable, but I would ask that you
never
berate me in front of my people like that again no matter what I do. That was a discussion to have in private.”

You did it publicly, it should have been handled publicly
. But given the way he was staring at me and his tone, that wasn’t what I said. “I was upset, but I will try. I agree that arguments are not for public displays. I do not consider my home public though. You brought the strangers in and that caught me off guard.”

“That’s understandable,” he conceded. He slowly moved forward and removed my hand from my neck, sighing when he saw I was still bleeding. “I assumed you had healed if you stayed in here this long. Oh, my Nina, you can be so stubborn.”

“As can you.”

“We are a pair,” he agreed. He leaned down and licked my neck, and I felt it heal, the pain stopping. He took the gauze from me and stepped aside, allowing me to pass. “We accomplished much while you hid.”

I let that go, still hearing an edge to his tone. I took about five steps and froze, slowly turning towards my office as if seeing a monster like in a horror movie—but it was so much worse.

Someone had fucked with my office. It was so bad I actually fainted—dropped right there and fell with a thud to the floor.

“Get me water for her,” Conall yelled as I came back around from his lap. “She lost too much blood.”

“My office,” I whimpered, pushing away from him and trying to see it.

“Lie still, my Nina,” he shushed me, and seconds later, a bottle of water was in my hands as he sat me up against him and helped me drink it.

Tears filled my eyes as I stared at my destroyed office. “What did you
do
?”

“I redecorated your office to the finest of everything like you deserve. A brilliant mind like yours deserves the best, a true writer’s office full of inspiration and limitless possibilities.”

I looked around and my heart broke. Instead of my hanging promo banners, the same ones that were on my sites that my graphic designer—my best friend—and I had spent
weeks
designing together, some of the best hours of my life, capturing who I really was, my style, the feel of
me
… There was now cheesy matted and framed inspirational posters like in corporate or doctor offices. It brought one word to mind.

Generic.

Gone were my back-to-back glass top desks that took me
forever
to find because they were open and had the right height monitor shelf that fit my massive all-in-one computer for someone my height—instead, a gaudy and probably wastefully expensive, pretentious oak desk that looked so damn heavy I was surprised it didn’t fall through the damn floor sat in their place.

My goofy plastic drawer tower on wheels with printed labels was gone, just like the one I’d had in college. I’d searched relentlessly to find that damn thing to remind myself how far I’d come because that was when I’d started my
first
real story that had been stolen on my
first
laptop and I never wanted to forget that feeling and always remember to protect my work.

He’d even replaced my colored lights so the ominous feel was lost to the room. It was just bland now. Boring. There was some pricey bookshelf in there, replacing the one
I
loved that held all my research books just the way I’d wanted them, in the order I wanted them, so the ones I used most were closest to my chair. And he fucked up their arrangement. All my piles of shit were
gone
.

He even got rid of my colored paper holder that was like a teacher’s for all my spec sheets for my new releases so I could prioritize which ones I needed to look at. Even my decal
quotes
were gone. It wasn’t my office anymore. All the hours I spent, putting together the
perfect
office that I
loved
, even though it was a complete mess and not finished—like me—needed more work, and seriously I had to clean up, was
gone
.

I shoved at him and scrambled to the garbage can—cursing when even
that
was different—and puked out my guts.

“She needs a doctor,” he told someone. I flicked him off and shook my head, not wanting anything from him right then even if he might have been right. I threw up a little longer and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before sitting back on my feet.

I saw then that even my beach view partition was gone, the same one that was on the covers of one of my series and my decals of a compass so I always knew which way was true north no matter how confusing life got.

“Where is it all? Where is all my stuff?” I choked out.

“In the garbage,” he hedged, looking at me like I was crazy.

“Put it
back
,” I whimpered as I met his eyes. “Put it all back right
now
!”

“Nina,” he sighed dramatically. “You’re being ungrateful and honestly—”

“Conall, this was
my
space. My creative space and you just invaded it with what
you
think would be inspirational. I picked all of it because it was what I needed to create what
I
create. If you want me to create what I do, put it back. Otherwise another author can use this perfect writing space as you call it to make other books, but it’s not what I need to make mine. I am not stepping foot in this room to write until it is
my office
again,” I whispered, before slowly getting to my feet, tears streaming down my cheeks, and walking out of the room.

I didn’t make it more than two feet before I went back down.

* * * *

He must have called a doctor, because I woke the next morning with an IV in my arm and on orders of bed rest. I nodded and listened when he told me there were a few drops of his blood in the bag but that was it. I couldn’t even look at him. I knew he was mad at me, but I didn’t care.

He’d crossed too big of a line with me, and honestly, I now knew this was going to end very, very badly. Like
Misery
kind of badly.

The next day all the stuff that had been in my office was gone, some of my old stuff back but it wasn’t the same. Conall said he would find replacements for what had been thrown out, but it was either seasons old or out of stock. I simply shrugged and grabbed my Ultrabook and walked away.

Things only went from bad to worse. He had ordered promotional materials he’d never asked my input on or told me about. Boxes and boxes arrived that day and he brought one in from the garage like an excited kid, showing it to me.

“Where is it going?” I asked as I looked into the box of USB drives.

“Conferences,” he answered with a smile. “I’ve been booking you at conferences around the country the next year and extra signings. I’ve hired a publicist and we’re just getting started.”

I felt my skin go cold. Large groups and crowds were my kryptonite, and as much as I loved my fans, random people touching me or hugging me made me see spots and panic in a clawing, burning,
run the house is on fire
kind of way. “Okay.”

“That’s it?
Okay
?”

“I have the feeling I don’t have a choice, so
okay
,” I whispered and shrugged before walking away. I thought that was more polite than telling him the USB drives were hideous and boring. I was more a
make sure people get a giggle with the promo
kind of gal, but sure, boring worked too.

I went outside and chain-smoked, no longer worried about how many cigarettes I had a day. It wasn’t like I was going to die with Conall’s blood after all.

I was never so glad to go see an accountant as I was that day just to get out of the house. I didn’t even say a word when I left, taking my sweet ass time, stopping at Target on the way home, shopping for things I didn’t need, tearing up like a baby when I saw office supplies, and dreaming about running away from home like a kid.

Was there even a way out of this mess? How did one run from a thousand-year-old vampire? Was there a place far enough from a person like that? I couldn’t run to my family and drag them into my mess. I mean, this
seriously
took stalking to a new degree. And what repercussions could that have on the ones I love?

When I did finally go home, giving in after twenty missed calls and messages from Conall, I walked into the house and smelled something funny, unfamiliar. I was up the half flight of stairs before my throat started to close.