ASH'S POV
I woke to the hush of still air and unfamiliar silence. For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was. The last couple of nights seemed like a bad dream that I was slowly waking from. I expected to look up and see the arched, crown-molded ceiling I had slept under for years but instead found something simpler, something warmer.
I sat up slowly, the blankets falling from my chest, and looked around. The room I was in was huge, maybe even bigger than my bedroom back home, but the atmosphere couldn't have been more different. The walls were painted a soft, earthy beige with accents of deep green and honey-colored wood. Sunlight filtered in through thick, drawn drapes, casting golden tendrils of light across the polished floor.
The furniture was newer, more modern. A large bed with an upholstered headboard. A heavily cushioned arm chair tucked near a small fireplace. Even a flat-screen television hung, mounted, above a sleek dresser. Everything felt so...cozy. Cheerful even. It was nothing like the cold elegance of the relic I had grown up in. It seemed as though every room in Liam's mansion had his mother's touch as I assumed she was the decorator. I could feel her energy in the design, as though she had infused her love into the very walls of her home.
My father's mansion, an old Victorian, wasn't a home, it was a tomb. Centuries worth of Kings and their families have walked those halls, the ghosts of their presence still lingering. Nothing had ever changed. Every painting, every tapestry, every statue was exactly the same. There was no love there, no warmth. No one lived there because no one there actually lived. Like the building itself, they were relics. Old, emotionless, and devoid of life. Corpses shuffling around, just existing, but not really living. That was the world I had grown up in.
I pushed away the memory of my former life and once again focused on the room I was in. My room, for now at least. After the meeting with my father, who knows. But for now, it was mine. When I glanced to my right I noticed there was a door, slightly ajar. Beyond it, I saw the gleam of polished tile and a glass-walled shower. I smiled. A private bath.
But, to my left--
I rose from my bed, legs a little unsteady at first, and crossed the room. My fingers curled around the edge of the drapes and I pulled them back, blinking against the light. It wasn't too harsh. The sun was still up but low in the sky, bathing everything in amber and gold hues.
French style doors opened to a balcony. I pushed the doors open and my breath caught as I stepped through and felt the warmth of the late afternoon sun on my skin. The light didn't sting--it was gentle, filtered. Bearable.
I walked to the edge and rested my hands on the smooth stone banister. Below me was a sea of green. Trees rustled in the wind, the forest sprawling toward the mountains in the distance. The view was absolutely breathtaking.
Even so, my heart ached. From the balcony of my old room, the view had been nothing but cliffs and sea. White spray leaping up from jagged rocks, the endless, shifting ocean stretching beyond the horizon. The sounds of gulls, the tang of salt in the air. That was what I had known, what I had loved. And now... it was gone.
Here, the smell was earthier. Pine. Damp moss. The air didn't whip at my face or taste of storms. It felt too calm, too tamed, anchored. I missed the sound of the waves crashing against the cliff side. I missed walking barefoot on the cold sand, letting the tide pull at my ankles. I missed the weight of my memories there, even if some of them hurt. For most of my life that house, the beach below, had been all I had known. It was hard letting go and not all of my memories had been bad ones. Before coming here, the beach and sea had been my sanctuary, and I mourned their loss, because I knew I would probably never see that view again. Never walk those shores or sit beneath the moonlight, the ocean humming gently before me, soothing me, and easing all my fears.
A soft ache started in my chest, and I let it linger. Just for a moment. Just long enough to mourn. A gentle knock pulled me from my thoughts, then a soft click of the door opening.
I froze, nostrils flaring instinctively. I bristled, ready to defend myself but then a familiar scent hit me like a wave--warm, grounding, and familiar. Musk. Pine. Earth. Unmistakable.
Victor.
I turned and stepped back inside.
He stood just inside the room, framed by the door, eyes locked on me. His expression was unreadable at first, then surprise, like he hadn't expected to see me standing there. Maybe he assumed I'd still be asleep or, maybe, he'd expected me to run again. I wasn't sure.
"I--" he started, then cleared his throat. "Liam sent me. He's agreed to a meeting with your father at the Palace Hotel tonight and he needs you and Jai to brief him before hand."
I narrowed my eyes, confused. "Brief him on what?"
"Vampire laws and customs."
"Oh, okay..." I nodded. "But, um...can I take a shower first?"
His lips tugged upward, just slightly, then he turned his head. "Yeah, that's fine. You'll find towels and anything else you need in the bathroom."
He turned to leave but I called out to him. "Victor, wait."
He hesitated, then turned to look at me. His brows furrowed like he was debating whether he should stay or go. His hand hovered near the door handle but his feet seemed rooted to the floor.
"What happened earlier?" I asked, my voice soft, quiet, calming. "The last thing I remember was being in the forest, with you. Then, nothing. How did I get back here?"
His shoulders relaxed some and I could see the tension drain from his face. "I carried you." He told me, eyes still locked on mine. "You passed out, so I carried you back."
My cheeks warmed and my heart gave a little flutter. "You...you carried me?"
He nodded, his expression as solemn as ever.
I swallowed. "Thank you," was all I could think to say. My head was swimming with so many questions, so many things I didn't understand.
He tilted his head slightly as he watched me and I could see the wheels turning behind those dark eyes. He was trying to figure me out, understand me as much as I was trying to understand him. I couldn't stay quiet anymore though. There was something I had to know. It was driving me nuts thinking about it.
"Why?" I asked, finally. "Why are you being so kind to me? I thought you...hated me."
Something shifted in his gaze. A softness I hadn't seen before.
He stepped closer. "Give me your hands."
I hesitated, but only a second before reaching out. His fingers closed around mine, large, warm, and so strong yet gentle.
"Do you feel that?" He whispered.
