“That’s the pills.”
“That’s the boy’s strength of will.”
Slowly Aden relaxed, rubbed a hand over his face. His vision was slightly blurred, his movements sluggish, but at least his mind was quiet. Still. Poor souls.
The two men continued their conversation a while longer, until finally it was decided that Aden would attend class, then immediately be driven to Dr. Hennessy’s office for a session.
Great. Those sessions were nothing but a pain in the ass. The good doctor always wanted to touch him. Nothing overt, and nothing too creepy, just a hand-holding, skin-to-skin thing. That, on top of the fact that he had to be in therapy at all, aggravated the piss right out of him.
At last the men left, and Aden gingerly sat up. His stomach burned as if a fire had been set there, and that burn rose into his throat, his brain. More fog, more dizziness. He closed his eyes. In the distance, a wolf howled.
So he hadn’t imagined the howling. Riley must be nearby.
“S-sorry, man,” he heard Shannon say.
His lids cracked open, and he saw that Shannon was beside the bed and crouched in front of him, his features tight with concern.
“D-didn’t want to get Dan, but didn’t k-know what else to do. You were really o-out of it. Never seen you l-like that.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He blinked, doing his best to focus. “What time is it?”
“About ten-thirty.”
That late? Wow. Riley really would be here any minute. How was Aden going to sneak out now? Dan would check up on him throughout the night, Aden knew that he would. Apparently, that’s what people who cared about you did. Checked on you. It was new and wonderful and yet, hell on the social life.
Something clanked against the window, and both Aden and Shannon turned. The glass rose, then Riley was there, smoothly climbing through. He was dressed in a black suit, was cleanly shaven and had his hair arranged in perfect spikes. In his arms, he clutched what looked to be a garment bag.
“Shannon,” he acknowledged with a stiff nod.
Shannon, who was used to Aden’s nightly visitors, nodded in return. “Riley.”
“I’ve gotta borrow our boy for a little while.”
Shannon frowned. “He’s b-been sick and needs his r-rest.”
Riley frowned, too, gaze darting to Aden. “Sick? Again? How?”
“Again?” Shannon’s focus swung back to Aden. “When were you s-sick before? What was wrong?”
Oh, yeah. Aden hadn’t explained—or lied, as he’d planned—so Shannon had no idea how iffy things had been for him.
“Shannon,” a musical female voice said from just beyond the window. Victoria had arrived. “You are tired. You must sleep now.”
“Sleep,” the boy muttered, yawning. “Yeah, I’m pretty tired.” He scaled to the top of the bunk bed and lay down. He was softly snoring a few seconds later.
So much power in one little voice, Aden thought. A voice she used liberally, but always to help him, so he didn’t want to complain. Even though a part of him sometimes feared she’d one day use that voice against him. How would he combat the compulsion to do what she wanted if, like, he made her mad and she told him to do something tragic?
Don’t think like that. She cares about you.
He blamed the drugs for his illicit thoughts.
Still outside, she moved backward one step, two, though remained in a beam of light spilling from the room. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, he noticed, and several ringlets framed her pale face. Her eyes had been outlined in black and black glitter sprinkled on her lids. His favorite? Her lips were painted bloodred.
From what he could see, she wore a silky black robe with thin straps on both shoulders and a neckline that dipped low in the center. New favorite, he thought. He even liked the metal bands winding around her biceps like thin, bejeweled snakes.
She was breathtaking.
Mine. The thought was his own, no one else’s. Because she was. His.
“Aden,” Riley said, claiming his attention. “You were sick?”
Aden nodded, and had to blink against the sudden renewal of dizziness. Stupid pills. He explained what had happened, what had been done to him. How he’d been drugged.
Riley shook his head. “I don’t know how you deal with all those voices anyway. But don’t beat yourself up about it. One slip-up in how long? A year or more? That’s reason to celebrate. You know, at a vampire mansion. Like, now.”
At least the wolf wasn’t snarling at him.
“Help him dress, and I’ll ensure Dan stays away from this room for the rest of the night,” Victoria said from her outer post, and then was gone.
Riley unzipped the bag he held. “I seriously hope you’re not going to make me do all the work.”
“Please. I’d have to be dead to let you put your hands on me.” Aden stood—and almost tumbled back on his bed, his knees were so weak, but he managed to remain upright, and held out his hands. Several articles of clothing were thrust at him.
He dressed quickly, and realized he was now wearing a suit almost identical to Riley’s. Black, silk, expensive. He brushed his hair and teeth, then splayed his arms wide, silently requesting inspection.
“Better, but not done yet.” Riley held out his open palm.
Aden saw what rested in the center and actually backed away. “No. No way.”
“You must.”
The ring—Vlad’s ring—glistened with a luminous shimmer in the light. Bad idea, all the way around.
“Your coronation ceremony will take place in thirteen days and—”
“Thirteen days,” he interjected. That seemed relevant somehow. Familiar. “So why wear it now?”
“As a symbol of your power.”
Power? Please. He had no power. Not any that mattered.
“We must go,” Victoria said suddenly, at the window again. “Everyone is waiting.”
Riley arched a brow at him and shook the ring. “You’re king, ceremony or not, and the vampire king wears this ring. Always. Your people won’t take you seriously without it, and you’re going to have a hard time being taken seriously anyway since you’re human.”
“Thanks for the newsflash.” I don’t want to be king, he thought, but he reluctantly pinched the band between two fingers and slid the thing in place. A large opal stared up at him, casting multihued beams in every direction. His foggy mind could have studied those beams forever, lost.
He’d wear the ring tonight because, in their minds, he was king. According to their laws—of which he knew only this one—he who killed the king became king. But Aden planned to appoint someone else, someone deserving, someone competent and equipped. And soon. Without letting himself be killed.
“Go.” With a push from Riley, he was stumbling toward the open window.
Chilly air enveloped him as he climbed out and strode toward a dark blue sedan the pair had hidden a few yards from the ranch. Stolen, no doubt. They didn’t own a car, so Victoria “borrowed” one when she needed to be driven somewhere. Or rather, have Aden driven somewhere. All the while, crickets sang and wolves continued to howl.
“Goblins out tonight,” Riley explained as he settled into the driver’s seat. “Though they’re thinning out, and should be contained soon.”
Goblins. Little monsters who liked to eat human flesh. Aden hadn’t met one yet, but had heard the stories about sharp teeth ripping through human bodies like a knife through butter. Little wonder he wanted to put off that introduction as long as possible.
Aden and Victoria had claimed the backseat. She had tried to sit in front, in the passenger seat next to Riley, but Aden had grabbed her hand and tugged her back with him. She could have fought him, but allowed the restriction, silent.
Once they were on the road, she withdrew a cologne bottle from the center console and sprayed him from top to bottom. Soon he was choking on the scented mist that clogged the air.