Lottie grasped the crystal doorknob and pushed the creaky attic door open, making particles of dust rain around them like snow. Coughing and waving dust from her face, she stepped into the little hallway and placed the lantern on a tiny table that sat between two more closed doors. She quickly lit another candle off the flame within the lantern and set it on the hall table.
“I’m not a fan of the dark,” Lottie said with a strained smile, picking up the lantern and slipping past Maya to open the door on the left. Shane watched her, wondering if the dark she referred to was him. “This is your room, young lady, and the one on the other side is yours, Shane.”
“Thank you, Lottie.” Maya gave the older woman a smile and glanced at Shane briefly. “I know that I’ve made a big mess and—”
“Hush up.” Lottie shook her head and slapped one hand over Maya’s mouth. Maya looked almost as startled as Shane was, and her big blue eyes stared at Lottie in shock. “I never met nobody, human or otherwise, who ain’t screwed the pooch a time or two. You get me?” Lottie asked, letting her hand fall away from Maya’s mouth and nodding. “Good. Because I don’t allow no pity parties in my presence. You want to change somethin’ about yourself or your life, then it takes actions, not words.”
Lottie patted Maya’s cheek gently and then went to the door at the top of the stairs. “You two get some sleep and we’ll talk some more later. I know you don’t need the facilities the way us humans do, but if you want to take a shower, I left you both some towels on the dressers in your rooms. Use the bathroom on the second floor if the fancy strikes you. When you wake up, I’ll probably be in the living room reading my magazines or making something in the kitchen. Sleep tight.”
Without waiting for a response from Shane or Maya, Lottie left and closed the door tightly behind her.
“She’s quite a character,” Shane murmured, following Maya into her bedroom.
Although it was pitch dark, the two of them could see quite clearly. If a human could look through their eyes, the nighttime world would seem to be painted in brown and silver sepia tones. The room was small, perhaps ten feet square, and the ceilings were angled like the roof. If Shane got too close to the window, he’d have to duck to avoid hitting his head.
To the right was a full-size bed with a white coverlet and two pillows. The headboard and footboard were curved with brass spokes, and on the left side of the room, across from the bed, was a small wooden dresser with an oval mirror. There were two windows, but both had been covered by heavy cloth blankets to prevent rays of sun from streaming in.
Maya walked over to the windows, grasped the edge of the cloth, and stood silently with her back to Shane. He moved closer and placed her bag on the bed. He didn’t take his eyes off her because he was terrified she was going to rip off the fabric and fry herself in the sun. She had the same look that she had that morning on the roof of the club, as though she was ready for the light to claim her.
“Maya?” he asked gently. Standing directly behind her and ducking his head so he wouldn’t hit the ceiling, he removed his leather gloves and stuck them in his pockets, letting his gaze slip over her long, blond ponytail. He’d been dying to tangle his fingers in her hair the minute she walked out of that bedroom dressed in the sentry uniform, but he kept his hands at his sides. “You should get some sleep.”
“I’m so tired, Shane,” she whispered, running the edge of the cloth between her fingers. “My body…my soul.” She sniffled and he knew she was crying. Unable to stop himself, he ran his hand gently down the length of her ponytail and wrapped the silky ends around his finger while she spoke. “I’m tired of being afraid, and sometimes I think Olivia should have just left me in that alley. Everyone would be a lot better off. Including me.”
“I wouldn’t,” he murmured, reaching around her and placing his hand over hers along the edge of the fabric. She stilled and allowed her body to sag ever so slightly and lean against his, but she didn’t let go. He kissed the top of her head gently. “And neither would you. If Olivia hadn’t turned you that night, I may never have found you.”
“You would be much better off without me in your life.” She swiped at her eyes and her frustration rose. “You would be going about your business as a sentry, doing the job you love instead of babysitting a troublemaker like me and getting into fights with werewolves.” Maya let go of the fabric and spun to face him. With her blue eyes flashing angrily, she shoved at him with both hands. “You should leave. I mean it. Get away from me, Shane. Go back to New York.”
“No.” Shane didn’t move. Maya was a vampire and she was strong, but he was older and stronger and knew exactly what she was trying to do. “I will not.”
“Don’t you get it?” she shouted. “I’m no good, Shane. I was a terrible human being, and now I’m a hot fucking mess of a vampire. I’m defective merchandise.”
“Oh really?” Shane folded his arms over his chest and raised one eyebrow at her foolishness. “If I recall correctly, you don’t exactly have a clear memory of your human life. So what makes you say that?”
Maya’s jaw set and her lips quivered while she fought the tears and struggled to get the words out.
“No one came looking for me,” she said in a barely audible whisper. When he gave her a quizzical look, she continued. “After that night in the alley, I vanished from the human world, Shane, and no one came to find me… Nobody cared enough about who I was to even report me missing.” Her eyes filled with tears, and when one fat drop fell down her cheek, something inside him crumbled. Weeping, she sat on the edge of the bed looking at her intertwined fingers and murmured, “It’s like the world was relieved that I was gone.”
Resting her elbows on her knees, she put her face in her hands and sobbed. Shane stared at her for a moment, uncertain of exactly what to do. Watching the woman who was destined to be his bloodmate weeping deep, soul-shredding tears was not something he could slice with silver or wipe out with ultraviolet ammunition.
Viciousness and calculated death-dealing were things he was comfortable with. Crying and emotions were not.
Shane did the only thing he could think of. He dropped the other bag on the floor, then removed his long sentry coat and draped it over the foot of the bed before sitting down next to Maya. Without a word, he wrapped one arm over her shoulder, gently pulled her down onto the bed, and lay back, cradling her body against his. He held her there while she cried, her tears beading off the shirt of his sentry uniform in what seemed like a never-ending ocean.
“Sleep, Maya,” he murmured softly. “Sleep, my love, and I promise that I will come looking for you.”
It was happening again.
Maya whimpered when her attacker dug his fingers into her bicep and tried to smother her mouth with unwanted kisses. His alcohol-soaked breath filled her head and made her stomach churn in protest. She shook her head and pushed his face away with her hands, but he was too strong. Her knees gave out and she squeezed her eyes shut as he started dragging her toward the frightening darkness of the alley—and that’s when she heard Shane.
You have the control, Maya. Shane’s powerful baritone rumbled through the air around her. He can’t hurt you anymore, and you can stop this. A whisper fluttered in her ear like a caress. Show him, Maya. Maya’s eyes flicked open, and looking past the shoulder of her attacker, she saw Shane. He stood on the sidewalk, his leather coat flapping in the breeze, looking like the angel of death. He lifted his lip, bared his sharp, white fangs, and growled, Show him who you are.