She accepted his offering and resisted the odd impulse to hold his clothes under her nose. “I thought Odin was bringing me new clothes?”

“One thing you’ll learn about Odin, he’s easily distracted.” He raised a hand and let the genuine smile touch his eyes. “He will bring you clothes, he said he would and he never goes back on his word. However, it may not be with any kind of alacrity.”

“So you’re saying it could be tonight, could be a week from now, but eventually they’ll turn up?”

“Yes. Eventually is a perfect word.”

She jostled the arm holding her clothes. “What should I do with these?”

He seemed to consider the pile for a moment. “Honestly, I think it would be better for your health if you allowed me to dispose of them, but I can have them laundered if you prefer.”

Logan stared down at her soiled layers. If someone had asked her a week ago whether making the choice to throw them away would be so hard, she would have easily said no. But right now, in a situation she had no control over, standing in a room that wasn’t hers, deciding to throw away something that truly was her own, was more difficult than she ever imagined.

When he attempted to pull shirt six from the top of the pile, she tightened her arm against her chest. “I, I don’t...”

“It’s alright, Logan.” His voice took on a gentle quality that made her shiver. “I’ll have them laundered.”

Relaxing her arm, she allowed him to take her clothing. Once he had everything except her coat, she moved back in an effort to put a little more space between herself and the vampire. “Thanks. So, do you have any house rules?”

“No. You’re free to move about as you wish. The only thing I ask is should you move about during the day, please don’t throw open any of the heavy draperies. The sun and I have a mutual disdain for each other.”

Somehow, she wasn’t surprised. “Roger that, Lord Vampire.”

“One more thing, should you choose to explore and Odin happens to return in the midst of you doing so, consider him the mean dog and yourself the child with the sharp stick.”

Her wide grin was completely involuntary. “Doesn’t deal well with humans, huh?”

“On the contrary, he spends a great deal of time with humans. It’s just that there are places he expects them to be, and places he doesn’t. My home happens to be one of the places he doesn’t.”

“Oh.”

He leaned forward and rested a hand on the door handle. “Don’t worry, given a little time, he’ll get used to you.” He bowed his head as he pulled the door closed. “Goodnight, Logan.”

The second the door clicked into place, Kerestyan’s offered clothes, which were so neatly draped over Logan’s forearm, enveloped her face. She smiled against the soft material and inhaled deep, letting the scent fill her senses. Smoky and warm, the aroma reminded her of a wood fire just after a cold rain. There was also a hint of something sweet and earthy, and she would have tried harder to place the scent had the ghostly image of a campfire, complete with the faces of her mother, sister and father, not flared to life in her mind.

Forcing the memory aside, Logan dropped her coat on the floor, tossed Kerestyan’s clothes on the bed then rushed to remove her own. After opening the door a few feet away and flipping on the light to make sure it was the bathroom, she dumped her wet underclothes in the chair outside and slammed the door closed behind her.

She pressed the heels of her palms against her closed eyes and curled her fingers around her forehead, letting her fingernails dig into her scalp. Given her current situation, she didn’t have the strength to relive her past. What she needed to do was wash three weeks’ worth of New York City filth from her body. She needed to focus on what was happening now, not what used to be.

She didn’t need to remember how happy and normal her life had been eighteen years ago when she was only twelve. She didn’t need to remember how empty it’d become less than a year later. And she most certainly didn’t want to remember what it would never be again.

Chapter 4

“Where’d Bones go?”

Kerestyan looked up from the book he’d been reading when Odin’s much too happy voice broke the peaceful silence of the living room. “She’s sleeping.”

Odin wiggled his black eyebrows. “Is she naked?”

Kerestyan flipped the book closed and stretched in his chair. “I would assume not. I offered her a pair of sleeping pants and a t-shirt since I knew how unlikely it was you’d return in a reasonable amount of time.”

Odin dropped a canvas duffle bag on the floor. “It’s only Noon. Besides, I stopped at home and told Vouclade you needed a vet.” He kicked the bag, which landed directly in front of Kerestyan’s feet. “Her clothes are in there.”

Kerestyan picked up the bag and set it in his lap. When he pulled open the zipper and saw the contents, a smile curved his lips. “You made her clothes.”

Odin reached up and scratched the back of his head, false irritation crinkling the faint lines around his eyes. “It’s not like I had a choice. The all night grocery store doesn’t sell a size two meant to fit a six foot tall bean pole.”

And thus his brother’s true colors emerged. It was just a shame he refused to show them except for rare occasions.

“Thank you, Odin.”

He abruptly turned and headed for the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah. You know you owe me a lot more than the grand you gave me, right?”

Kerestyan laughed as he set the bag back on the floor and moved to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. Nothing was closer to the truth. The only skill that outshined Odin’s ability to make war – was his remarkable talent as a tailor.

He arched a brow as Odin, nose to the air, sniffed his way down the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Apparently his skill as a bloodhound was becoming almost as remarkable.

Odin stopped outside Logan’s door and grumbled before working his way back to the kitchen. “She’s sleeping because she’s high as a fucking kite, you know that right? I can’t believe you let her shoot up in there.”

Kerestyan slumped against the door frame. He’d caught the sweet yet chemically laced scent shortly after he’d left her room, but hadn’t felt it was his place to intervene. “I’m not her keeper, Odin. What she chooses to do with her own body is none of my business.”

“You may not be her keeper, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be her savior. Have you smelled her? I mean, really gotten close and taken a big whiff?”

If he’d intended the “savior” comment to sting, it worked. “No,” Kerestyan growled. “Unlike you, I never viewed her as food.”

After pulling open the door, Odin buried his head in the refrigerator. “You should. Because what she’s choosing to do with her own body,” his accusing black eyes peeked over the top of the door, “her very human and very fragile body…is slowly killing her. Not to mention how much it’s gonna piss off Vouclade.” His eyes returned to searching the shelves. “You know how he feels about drug addicts.”

Kerestyan rubbed a hand across his forehead. He knew all too well how Vouclade felt about substance abusers and their dealers. After all, he’d been a more than willing participant in the short lived systematic eradication plan, and a rather happy one at that.

The impending conversation with Vouclade had the propensity to get very ugly, equally as fast.

“Kerestyan? Are you listening to me?”

Kerestyan stepped back into the living room and picked up the book he’d been reading before Odin so rudely interrupted his day. “What form of payment would you like for the clothing?”

“I wanna know what you plan on doing with Bones.”

He straightened and stared at the empty slot on the bookshelf across the room.

So much for changing the subject.

He inhaled a deep breath then slowly blew it out. As much as he wanted to, lying to Odin wasn’t an option. Not that he couldn’t, it just never worked. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Only a few moments of silence passed before Odin reappeared in the living room with a sandwich almost as big as his head. He took a disturbingly large bite and somehow managed to make intelligible sounds around it. “Well, you better get your ass in gear and make up your mind before Vouclade gets here.”

“I’m already here.”

Kerestyan turned just in time to see his older sibling materialize through the steel elevator doors, which also served as the entrance to his home. “A little warning would have been nice.”

“I told Odin I would be leaving shortly after he did.”

“Oobs.” This time the cheese stringing between the sandwich and Odin’s big mouth hampered his annunciation.

“Would you like me to leave?” Vouclade asked.

Kerestyan shook his head. “No. I just hadn’t fully prepared for your arrival. I was expecting to see you sometime after sunset.”

When a rather satisfied moan followed the wet sounds of chewing, Vouclade narrowed his grey eyes. “Why don’t we adjourn to the kitchen before I kill your brother?”