Page 31 of Vamp CEO Bit You Where?

She faces me again, steady in a way that makes fear useless. My instincts pull, put walls around her until nothing in New York can touch her.

Outside, the day opens over a house that already failed to leave her untouched. Cyrus has lost a handler, three routes, and the comfort of believing I will answer violence with manners.

But he has gained the only map he needs. He knows where I stop being careful.

19

JASMINE

Three days after the apartment cameras, I need air. I'm in Sebastian's garden, pacing the lawn. It's a very green area where my thoughts feel like my own, and nobody is able to hear them.

I cross my legs and sit as though I'm preparing to meditate, pressing my palms into the grass, so I can touch something not made of marble or glass. The hedges are trimmed into hard green walls. Sunlight lies warm against my skin. Behind the tall windows of the house, I know Sebastian is watching. I can't see him, but I'm certain he's there. He's been a shadow hovering for days now. I had to come out here to find some quiet, away from all the chaos inside.

A stranger is standing across the lawn with gray skin, a thin curl of smoke lifting from his collar, and veins dark at his cheeks. I assume he's a guard until I see his jaw is hanging open, and his teeth are long, and pointed.

"Sebastian," I scream, as I push myself upright and start running toward the house.

I manage barely three steps before his hand closes on my upper arm, hard. It hurts, I feel his hand digging my bone. Iscream, louder this time. I claw at anything I can, my nails catch skin that blisters under light, but he does not flinch, does not let go. He drags me in. His other hand clamps around my hair, and he yanks my head to one side. He slants his mouth, opens wide. He's going to drain me of?—

My mother's kitchen. My father's photograph on the shelf. Sebastian's palm flat between my shoulder blades. All flash before my eyes—and then the weight is gone.

A blur tears the attacker off me. Grass rips up in a black spray of roots. The two of them go up, off the earth, high—and crash through a hedge that bursts, leaves flying everywhere. Stone cracks. Shadows cross the sun in shapes. Blood splatters on me. Not mine. Theirs. The vampire shrieks as he throws his next attack, still trying to reach me. I roll to the grass they come near, and begin crawling backward.

Eventually, Sebastian has him by the throat at the garden wall. His strength keeping the vampire down. The attacker's feet aren't touching the ground.

"Elias," Sebastian says. He doesn't shout. That's the sickest detail.

Elias is just appears. A thread of something pale and gold uncoils from his hands and wraps the attacker's wrists, his throat, and where it touches, the skin smokes and the man goes rigid, snarling, still. The thread burns white in the sunlight. Elias hauls him up like luggage and walks him toward the trees. He won't be seen again. Sebastian is already checking me before they disappear.

"Where did he touch you?" Fingers at my throat, my pulse, my arm. Eyes scanning my skin. "Where?"

"I'm fine?—"

"You're bleeding."

"It's a scratch." I am shaking so hard the word comes apart.

"Don't move." He tips my chin, checks my eyes like I'm fragile. I allow it, because his hands are steady and they are grounding me. His grip closes around both my shoulders and he pulls me up off the grass. He forces my legs to wrap his body and we move in the house in a millisecond like I'm cargo needing to be moved clear of rain.

"Sebastian—stop—you're hurting me."

He eases. Then plonks me down, pointing at the patio door. "Inside. Now."

Inside, the doors lock behind us with prison door finality.

"I'm putting extra men around tonight," he says, pacing. "On every entrance. You don't go outside. Not the garden, not the drive. Not alone, not with an escort. You don't step anywhere near the office until this is finished."

"And how long is that?"

"Until every threat to your life is buried."

"So—indefinitely. Your solution is I live here, barricaded."

"Jasmine, would you rather die?" His voice, ragged. "This is excruciating. You think that you can live through this?"

"I can. You tore him apart. You were terrifying and you saved me and I am grateful." My throat aches. "But taking my freedom away. That's not called for."

"I'm trying to keep you alive."