All Just Glass - Amelia Atwater-Rhodes [64]
Jake’s influence.
She had just reached for one when Nikolas appeared behind her. Sarah snatched her hand back guiltily, as if expecting Dominique to chastise her for seeking such a frivolous waste of time. She had listened to music at home, but it had always been whatever happened to be on the popular-music station on the radio; she had never bothered to consider what her tastes might be.
“Well, I have news you’re going to like, and news I think you’re going to like a lot less,” Nikolas announced with a rueful expression. “Which do you want to hear first?”
“Good news, I guess,” she said. He didn’t look upset, so she imagined that the less-good news was probably one of those vampire-related things she just didn’t like talking about, and not any kind of disaster.
“Kendra confirmed she does know Michael, and that though they do not have an explicit arrangement, he has always been careful not to break her rules. Also, she has four box tickets to Wicked. She thinks you will appreciate some of the themes in it.”
“Uh-huh,” Sarah said. She had never heard of it, so she could only hope that wasn’t the bad news. On the other hand … “Why do we need four tickets?”
“Because she wants to meet you, and has suggested the four of us should attend together.”
So much for Kristopher’s idea of a light, low-pressure evening.
“I assume that’s the news you figured I wouldn’t like as much?” Sarah asked.
Nikolas shook his head. “I may have accidentally mentioned your other problem. Kendra is a woman of great class and style.”
He didn’t say it; he didn’t need to say it. Like some kind of ancient, bloodthirsty mother-in-law, Kendra wanted to get to know the newest member of her line. What better way to do so than a shopping trip?
Goddess help her. She would rather face the hunters.
CHAPTER 21
SATURDAY, 5:31 P.M.
ZACHARY STORMED UP the familiar weathered steps, his fingertips trembling and his breath coming quickly in what anyone who knew him would call a shockingly uncharacteristic loss of control. A streetlamp nearby flickered, and he realized he was throwing off so much wild energy he was disrupting the electrical currents.
Before putting his hand on the knob of the front door, he took a moment to pause, close his eyes and hold his breath until he stopped shaking and his heartbeat calmed. Above him, the lamp flickered once more and then died, leaving his side of the street dark.
Then, eyes cold as steel, he pulled open the door—it wasn’t locked; it was never locked—and moved into the front parlor of the small apartment.
The familiar room made his throat tighten with emotions he preferred not to analyze too closely. From the worn suede love seat and ottoman and the soft velvet curtains to the throw rug and a Tiffany lamp that cast muted light the color of roses and gold about the room and into the small kitchenette, everything was warm and welcoming. Embracing.
There were three doors from the living room entrance; now one of those doors opened and Olivia padded out, clothed in pajama pants and a camisole top of creamy silk.
Through the doorway he could see the human she had left behind on the bed. His name was Vick, and he was a hard-core blood junkie who had been living with Olivia for months. He and Zachary had met and even talked some—enough for Zachary to know he did not want to talk to him more. Vick had no family, no past he was willing to talk about and probably no future at all. His wasn’t bloodbonded to anyone, but that was only because no one had claimed him so permanently. His entire existence consisted of being passed from one vampire to the next, with no desires of his own except to bleed for them.
Vick didn’t even twitch when the door opened. Olivia took one look at Zachary and sighed heavily. “This again?” she asked him. She drifted closer, pausing only to close the door behind her. “After we had such a nice visit earlier.