Unseen (The Heights, Vol. 1) (4 page)

It’s him or me.
And she’d much prefer
it was him. Just before she struck, the vamp’s nostrils flared as
if he sensed what was about to happen. Her hands froze, the stake
an inch away from his chest.

You’re so close! Just do it!

“Is this an attempt to build suspense?” he
asked, his eyes still closed, his body still unmoving.

She jerked backwards and fell on her ass.

“You are not going to do it?” His voice was
calm but gravelly. A rich, deep baritone that held no fear. “I
cannot say I am disappointed.”

“I…I…” In the history of great comebacks,
that had to rank in the top three.
Idiot
.

“If you are not going to stake me, what do
you intend?”

“I…I…”
Oh, come on, Addison. At least get
out a verb.
“I found you. All I want is for you to be well
enough to leave.”

“Are you a healer?”

“No.”

“Then how do you propose to make me
well?”

She glanced at the glass still resting on the
nightstand. “I brought blood.”

“Excellent.” He still didn’t open his eyes,
still didn’t speak above a whisper, almost like he was content to
stay at her mercy.

Yeah, right.
“You have to promise not
to suck me dry.”

“Do I?” he said lazily.

“Yes.” Why wasn’t he reacting? Maybe because
every super in a ten-mile radius could smell her fear.

“Very well. I promise.” That was too easy.
Vamps weren’t bound by their promises like the fae were, but she
wanted it anyway.

“I need you to mean it. Promise you won’t
drink me to death if I try to help you.”

“I believe I already did. Although, I would
imagine the silver you have strapped me down with inspires more
confidence than words.”

She gnawed on her lip and considered how deep
in this hole she already was. He was right—silver was stronger than
a promise at this point. She picked up the glass and prepped
herself to get closer. “I swear to God, if you do anything,
I’ll—”

“What would you do? Stake me? Again? Let us
be clear—swearing to God does nothing for my kind. Because
He
does nothing for my kind.” His eyes fluttered open,
revealing the most beautiful blue irises she’d ever seen, even on a
super. The kind of color that’s impossible to look away from:
divine, unearthly, only found in dreams and mirages.

She blinked, knowing eyes like that could
bind, hypnotize, make you believe whatever they wanted you to.
“Close your eyes.”

“Are you always so demanding? Or just with
those you have bound to your bed?” His gaze danced from her face to
her body, his face still expressionless, his voice tinged with
sarcasm and distaste.

“Close your eyes.”

“As you wish.” He lowered his lids slowly,
letting her know that while she may think she was in control of the
situation, she wasn’t. As if she needed the reminder.

“Can you lift your head?” She knelt down with
the glass in one hand and the stake in the other.

The muscles in his neck tightened momentarily
and a wrinkle appeared between his eyes, but nothing moved. Then,
every line disappeared as if they’d never existed.

“There is your proof,” he said grumpily. “I
believe having power over my appendages would be necessary for me
to ‘suck you dry.’”

She blew out a breath. “I could’ve killed
you, but I didn’t. Remember that.” She put the stake down on the
nightstand and slipped her hand under his head to raise it
slightly.

As she leaned forward, he inhaled deeply.
“Your scent is…different.”

She glanced at the stake, trying to judge how
fast she could get to it. “You’re probably smelling the garbage
heap you were dumped in.”

“No, it is you, and it is…pleasing.” His
voice was still groggy, almost as if he wasn’t fully awake. Or as
if he knew how frail her bravery was and how easy it would be to
knock it down. “Are you a witch?”

“I’m human.” Just more cursed than the
average.

He scoffed. “That is impossible. Humans do
not smell like you do.”

“I’m human. Hu-man.”

“Do you truly believe that if you say it
enough times, it will become true?”

“Just drink the yuck before I change my
mind,” she grumbled.

As the steak juice poured into his mouth, she
stared at his canines, waiting for them to elongate. She should’ve
held the stake between her teeth. Not because it would’ve done
anything to keep her safe, but at least it would make her look a
little more badass.

After one swallow, he twitched and then
gagged, his eyes flashing wide. She dropped his head and backed
up.

“What is that?” he asked, coughing and
spitting it out.

“It’s blood.”

His reaction was great—not that he was
choking on the juice but that his body barely moved. Only his head
came off the bed, turning to the side to glare at her. But she’d
happily take the glare, because it meant that was all he could do.
So, she was safe. Hopefully for long enough to convince him to walk
away and forget she ever happened.

That was so enormously unlikely.
I
should’ve staked him.

“That is
not
blood,” he said, still
trying to rid his mouth of the taste.

“It’s close.”

“Yet it is far from potable. It was cow, was
it not? You tried to give me the myoglobin of a cow?”

“Maybe, although I’m not sure what myoglobin
is.”

“Do you know nothing about my race?” He
looked at her as if she’d missed something so obvious she should be
ashamed of herself. “Because vampires were human, we can only
ingest human blood.”

“They don’t exactly offer ‘How to Feed and
Nurture Your Vamp’ classes to disposal techs, you know.”

“You are a disposal technician.”

“Yeah.” She waited for him to make a flippant
comment, something derogatory about what she did for a living.

“Why are you not a diversion?”

Diversion: The official yet completely
inaccurate name for a toy. Supers used prettier words, but the seer
descriptions were always more honest—toy instead of diversion, the
Heights instead of the Highworld.
‘Highworld,’ my ass.
An
entire movie and gaming franchise was built on the Underworld name.
Because that’s what the supernatural world was—dark and
hellish.

Seers weren’t ‘guided’ into the Heights—when
you don’t have a choice, you’re ‘drafted.’ ‘Bag boy’ was a much
clearer name for seers who delivered blood, either in bags or in
necks, along with the occasional cadaver for rituals and
ceremonies. ‘Grocers’ were in charge of population
control—overseeing how many supers were created and monitoring the
free-range kill each super was allowed in every human
generation.

The supers were blind to the reality of their
own world, and the facts would ruin the perfection they saw while
looking down their noses. Nobody likes ugly things—especially not
supers.

“You have the right qualities for a
diversion,” he said.

“I have other qualities, too,” she said, her
cheeks and chest heating as he took her all in. The truth was, she
didn’t know why she hadn’t been put in a toy box. But she thanked
the powers every day for whoever was in charge of job assignments
the day her file went through.

“It is regrettable you were not trained in a
procurement role.”

“Yeah, that’s just too bad. I’m so sorry I’m
not more useful to you.”

“As am I,” he said. “If you truly wish me to
heal, I must have blood I can utilize. For optimum utilization, a
cow needs cow milk just as a human child needs human breast
milk.”

“I’m not a cow,” she said, crossing her arms
over her chest as his gaze fell there. Then she realized he wasn’t
talking about milk, and he wasn’t looking at her breasts. Her hands
moved to her neck.

“A vampire needs human blood to survive. Any
other kind causes a reaction much the same as a human who is
allergic to cow’s milk.”

“You mean you’re lactose intolerant?”

“Not what I meant, but if it helps to think
of it in those terms…”

“So animal blood gives you a tummy ache?” she
said, stifling a laugh that was half about her comment and half
about the absurdity of this situation. So, you know, a terrified
laugh.

“No.”

“Why can’t you just drink it and use it less
than optimally?”

“Because it is vile,” he snapped. “Because,
contrary to what you seem to think, I am not an animal, and there
are a few things my magic cannot supply. I need human blood. Or
seer blood.”

“Seers
are
human, but you’re not
getting any of my blood.”

He gritted his teeth and looked away. “Then I
suppose I will just have to wait until you kill me, or you will
have to wait until I starve to death.” That would only take
forever. Literally.

“I guess so.” She sat down, put her hands
behind her head, and leaned back in the chair. “Good thing I don’t
have anything better to do.”

About fifteen minutes later, Addison came to
a decision, not knowing if it was a bad decision or a
really
bad one. It was the largest commitment she’d ever made, because
there was no coming back from it. Since she worked at night and
slept during the day, her drapes were lightproof, designed either
for people on the night shift or vampires. Right about now, she
truly regretted not getting the lacy kind and wearing a sleep mask,
because what she was about to do was deliberate and would kill him.
Those two things defined murder, didn’t they?

She wasn’t a murderer.

But
he
was. And if he got free, he
wouldn’t hesitate. And he wouldn’t feel bad about it either. And he
wouldn’t be standing around like an idiot, having a silent
conversation with himself and trying to figure out what he should
do.

She pulled the drapes open. When the sun came
over the building and through the window, he wouldn’t be her
problem anymore. It wouldn’t be pretty or fast because, while
sunlight burned them, it took a really long time for them to dust.
But it would get the job done, and it wouldn’t entirely be her
fault. Mother Nature would have a larger hand in it than she did.
And nobody could kill Mother Nature.

Afterwards, Addison would buy a new bed.
Didn’t they take away the old one for free? They probably wouldn’t
even notice a layer of ash in the shape of a man. Okay, they would.
So she’d wrap his remains in a little care package for the human
trash collector and be done with it. And him.

“You intend to have me meet the sun.”

She didn’t want to look at him. It seemed
harder to set someone up for death if they watched you do it. “You
could always leave first.”

“If I had the power to leave, I would also
have the power to shut the curtains.”

“Why are you giving me more reasons to stake
you?” she asked, spinning to face him. Damn it! She didn’t want to
see him.

His eyes dared her, challenged her, and his
jaw still jutted out. Still proud, or maybe it was stuck in that
position from too much practice feeling superior. But she knew he
was ashamed of his weakness, of being at the mercy of a lower
being. How ironic—he was finally experiencing what seers felt like
all the fucking time.

“You are so easily read, Seer. A higher being
will know everything as soon as they are within ten feet of you. It
is too bad your kind cannot shield your minds from us, is it not?”
There wasn’t an ounce of pity or empathy in his tone, but there was
a whole lot of arrogance and patronization.

“
All
higher beings?” If so, then it
was a done deal. She couldn’t avoid them forever. Someday one of
them would read her and find out what she’d done and she’d be
killed in a really, really terrible way. Really, really slowly.

“The skill varies from being to being, but
yes, we all can see into a human mind. They are quite weak…and
easily breakable.”

Addison knew that. Just like she knew she was
going to die. To keep her neighbor from getting wiped, she might as
well have shoved a stake into her own heart. The only thing she
could hope for now was that it would be fast and not too
painful.

Every seer died twice. The first time, as a
child, brought them into this hell. But
no one
came back the
second time. In a way, the realization was freeing. After twenty
years as a seer, six of those as an official member of the Heights,
she finally had nothing left to fear. It didn’t matter what she
said or did—the inevitable was inevitable.

Her expression defeated, the seer moved
slowly as she shut the curtains. She couldn’t possibly be surprised
by how weak the human mind was, or how strong his was. Rhyse had
little experience with humans and seers—a master didn’t spend time
with his servants or his food. But as surprising as it was, his
wound still had not healed and he had nothing else to keep him
occupied.

“Come to me, Seer.”

“No.”

This stubborn, ignorant disposal technician
would have a very slow death
.
His power took more energy
than speech did, but it was necessary. If only to see her obey. No
one disobeyed him.

“Come to me,” he commanded with his mind and
his tongue, though the latter was no longer important.

He watched her face change as she felt his
demand, her body struggling against her mind. She held power, this
one. All humans and most other beings would already be on their
knees begging for permission to please him.

With a sigh, she came within striking
distance. But he wouldn’t strike. Not yet. Not until she learned to
obey without his power and understood the futility of her defiance.
What should he command her to do next? Rid herself of the atrocious
clothing she wore? Fall to her knees in gratitude he hadn’t killed
her yet? Put her lips around his cock?

Perhaps too large a step. He would see her
beg soon enough, but not because he compelled her. Her submission
would come from her soul, not mind-play.