that was almost twenty years ago, and her things were gone, the furnishings changed. Even the walls were a different color, and the bright Mondrian canvases to which she’d been so partial had been replaced by more somber Wyeths, giving the room an almost sleepy atmosphere where once it had been so vibrant it practically hummed.
She wondered how quickly he’d changed things after he’d kicked her out, because that had certainly happened with head-spinning speed. For four months she’d been okay. She’d sneak off when the full moon taunted, sliding out of the mansion and heading to a warehouse she’d rented, well stocked with chains and locks. She’d ride the change out, her body ripped apart, the need for the kill eating her up inside as hours seemed to stretch into centuries.
And then it would be over, and she’d sneak back and park herself behind her desk in this very room and pretend that everything was business as usual.
Four months.
For four entire months that had been the way she’d operated, trying to work up the courage to tell Tiberius the truth, at the same time knowing she never could.
And then she’d gotten sloppy. Or maybe she’d just underestimated him.
A shrink would probably say she wanted to get caught, but that wasn’t true.
Not that it mattered; the end result was the same—he’d become suspicious. He’d followed. And he’d seen firsthand what she became.
Not that she’d realized it at the time. Back then, she didn’t know how to remain herself during the change. But she’d chained herself up good and strong, and he’d been smart enough not to come close.
He’d heard the stories about hybrids, after all.
She’d headed back home in blissful ignorance, certain she’d gotten away with it one more month.
How wrong she’d been.
She’d understood why he was angry. He’d told her about his past, and she understood why he hated werens to a degree that surpassed even the usual animosity between vamps and werens in the Shadow world.
She’d known that; she’d understood it. She’d known there would be a huge blowup.
She’d known that it would be hard and horrible.
Yet in the back of her heart she hadn’t expected him to kick her out. How could he, after everything they’d been through together? He was her life, and he had been for centuries.
But he had, and her last lingering bit of naïveté had died in that moment.
She pressed her fingers to her temples and silently cursed. She seriously needed to get out of this room. She didn’t want to think, she wanted to hit. To pound out her frustrations. She punched the air once, twice, and decided it was time to burn off some of the shit that was stirring inside her. She headed toward the door. Hopefully Tiberius’s stint at redecorating hadn’t run to eliminating or moving the gym.
More important, she thought as she eased up next to the door, she hoped he hadn’t put a guard outside her room.
She paused, her fingertips grazing the wood as she listened for movement outside. She heard it, and bit back a curse. He really
had
assigned a guard. Wasn’t that just the most fucked-up—
The scent
.
Slowly, quietly, she stepped closer, her chin tilted up, her nostrils flaring as she breathed in.
She knew it—knew him.
Tiberius was there, beyond the door.
Carefully she moved closer, her blood pounding in her veins, some emotion she didn’t want to name sweeping over her. Desire? Surely not. Anger? Maybe.
Curiosity?
Slowly she pressed her hand to the wood. That was when she heard it. More accurately, she felt it. The slightest intake of breath as if in reflex. And then a hint of warmth permeating the wood. Nothing a human would notice. But she wasn’t a human.
And neither was Tiberius.
Quickly she yanked her hand away, hating that she’d revealed even the slightest weakness to him, not caring in the slightest that her weakness had been his as well.
He’d find a way to turn it around on her. He always did, after
She wondered how quickly he’d changed things after he’d kicked her out, because that had certainly happened with head-spinning speed. For four months she’d been okay. She’d sneak off when the full moon taunted, sliding out of the mansion and heading to a warehouse she’d rented, well stocked with chains and locks. She’d ride the change out, her body ripped apart, the need for the kill eating her up inside as hours seemed to stretch into centuries.
And then it would be over, and she’d sneak back and park herself behind her desk in this very room and pretend that everything was business as usual.
Four months.
For four entire months that had been the way she’d operated, trying to work up the courage to tell Tiberius the truth, at the same time knowing she never could.
And then she’d gotten sloppy. Or maybe she’d just underestimated him.
A shrink would probably say she wanted to get caught, but that wasn’t true.
Not that it mattered; the end result was the same—he’d become suspicious. He’d followed. And he’d seen firsthand what she became.
Not that she’d realized it at the time. Back then, she didn’t know how to remain herself during the change. But she’d chained herself up good and strong, and he’d been smart enough not to come close.
He’d heard the stories about hybrids, after all.
She’d headed back home in blissful ignorance, certain she’d gotten away with it one more month.
How wrong she’d been.
She’d understood why he was angry. He’d told her about his past, and she understood why he hated werens to a degree that surpassed even the usual animosity between vamps and werens in the Shadow world.
She’d known that; she’d understood it. She’d known there would be a huge blowup.
She’d known that it would be hard and horrible.
Yet in the back of her heart she hadn’t expected him to kick her out. How could he, after everything they’d been through together? He was her life, and he had been for centuries.
But he had, and her last lingering bit of naïveté had died in that moment.
She pressed her fingers to her temples and silently cursed. She seriously needed to get out of this room. She didn’t want to think, she wanted to hit. To pound out her frustrations. She punched the air once, twice, and decided it was time to burn off some of the shit that was stirring inside her. She headed toward the door. Hopefully Tiberius’s stint at redecorating hadn’t run to eliminating or moving the gym.
More important, she thought as she eased up next to the door, she hoped he hadn’t put a guard outside her room.
She paused, her fingertips grazing the wood as she listened for movement outside. She heard it, and bit back a curse. He really
had
assigned a guard. Wasn’t that just the most fucked-up—
The scent
.
Slowly, quietly, she stepped closer, her chin tilted up, her nostrils flaring as she breathed in.
She knew it—knew him.
Tiberius was there, beyond the door.
Carefully she moved closer, her blood pounding in her veins, some emotion she didn’t want to name sweeping over her. Desire? Surely not. Anger? Maybe.
Curiosity?
Slowly she pressed her hand to the wood. That was when she heard it. More accurately, she felt it. The slightest intake of breath as if in reflex. And then a hint of warmth permeating the wood. Nothing a human would notice. But she wasn’t a human.
And neither was Tiberius.
Quickly she yanked her hand away, hating that she’d revealed even the slightest weakness to him, not caring in the slightest that her weakness had been his as well.
He’d find a way to turn it around on her. He always did, after
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