Capítulo 20: How much longer can you hold on?
Blake woke with a start, heart pounding. Another nightmare - flashes of masked gunmen, screaming chaos. He sucked in a ragged breath. Ever since the ambush outside the casino, no matter how luxurious the safehouses, peaceful sleep eluded him.
Fumbling on the bedside table, Blake found his phone and turned it on. Moonlight filtered through sheer curtains revealing the current safe house's elegant furnishings.
A Monet hung on the wall to his left, vivid brushstrokes almost dancing in the shadows.
With trembling hands, Blake poured a glass of chilled water and sipped it slowly, willing his galloping pulse to steady. He was utterly safe here under Rose's protection as she had assured him. But dread coiled insistent in his stomach telling him nowhere truly felt safe any longer.
The soft click of a door opening made Blake jump. He peered towards the bedroom entrance awaiting Rose's return. But a strange man strode silently into the room.
Pale and sluggish, the man looked scary in the dimness. Adrenaline spiked through Blake. He swallowed hard, frozen terror swallowing his whole as he crossed to his bedside.
"Sh-shhh now, Mr Shelton," the man rumbled in a gruff hush. "Don't you be getting the wrong idea here." Even his whisper seemed too suspicious. Blake cowered back against the leather headboard, mouth cottony.
Suddenly the man stretched forth his hands holding out a tray containing the size of dinner plates- and in the plates were two slices of dry toast with a dollop of strawberry jam upon the tray.
"There you go sir," he said with a coarse chuckle. "Can't have you goin' hungry now, can we?" The strange man gave him a kindly wink as Blake gaped in shock and bewilderment.
"W-Wha...who are you???" he managed in a squeak.
"Who am I?" He scratched his bulbous nose giving him a gap-toothed grin. "Why, I'm Pablo, sir'. One of my lord, miss Rose's personal and trusted chef as I've been serving her for years now. Pleased to make your acquaintance finally,"
He turned to go, thick shoulders filling the doorway. "Better eat up now Mr Shelton. M'lady is a real stickler keepin' her pets well fed before a day's work..." His gravelly laugh followed him as he plodded away into shadows so deep Blake could only assume he had somehow melted into them.
Shakily Blake touched the unexpected breakfast tray, hyperventilating. Strawberry seeds trembled precariously atop congealed jam. He clutched it like a lifeline back to sanity as terror and confusion shrouded the penthouse suite around him.
Rose's pets?? What in Heaven and Hell was happening here?!
Hours later Rose swept through the main salon of the safe house, cape swirling behind her boots. She met the gazes of her top security lieutenants arranged around an antique table - Reggie, Gunther, Randall.
Her ruby gaze bored into each in turn before she spoke. "Report."
One by one her grim-faced majordomo provided terse intelligence on risks, protective measures, and various brazen schemes spiriting Blake from any impending harm. Rose listened impassive, pale hands steepled before her mouth.
"There must be no further security leaks, no underestimations or failures at this juncture," she purred finally. Her voice betrayed lethal ice. "Otherwise I shall see to more permanent reassignments are made...my personal way."
The men shifted uncomfortably. None desired to discover exactly what grotesque fates their exquisitely ruthless mistress had in mind for subordinates disappointing her.
"Mr Shelton has been rattled by some...overambitious guests lately," Rose continued, splaying her razor nails.
"Fortunately I've already handled the messy affair and safeguarded his ignorance. But I require total discretion and unquestioning loyalty from each of you moving forward."
She let the implication of disobedience hang in the air palpably. "Am I quite understood?"
As they murmured obedience, Rose absorbed their obsequious glances with bitter satisfaction. These creatures respected nothing but absolute power. While tender Blake would never deserve anyone's fealty, Rose had cultivated a reputation for viciousness in her ranks second to none.
As her men departed to their posts, Reggie lingered a moment. "Say boss, did ya wanna tell the guy the truth upstairs? Might be kinder than lettin' him flail in darkness over what's comin'..."
Rose bared fangs, eyes flaring crimson. "You know nothing of what is kind lumbering fool!"
The force of her roar rippled furnishings. "You follow orders or I'll see you unmade!"
With that, she stormed towards her own private quarters, ignoring Reggie's stuttered apology and oath of loyalty. The great stupid oaf had dared press Rose to enlighten her precious innocent about the apocalypse descending nightly...
She would fiercely spare Blake even that.
***
The executive floor of Shelley Technologies hummed with activity as Rose strode in early Monday morning. Employees scrambled into polished professionalism at her approach, straightening lapels and clutching files.
Rose suppressed an eyeroll at the performative displays - pathetic mortals and their endless desire to impress.
As if any of them mattered compared to the infinite power swirling beneath her own flawless exterior. Still, she favored them with a curt nod as she passed.
"Good morning, Miss Shelley," several voices chorused. Rose merely gave a dismissive flick of manicured nails in vague acknowledgment.
Her heels clicked with authority down the sleek hallway toward the executive suite. The glass and steel surfaces gleamed eerily, reflective as obsidian - almost taunting Rose with glimpses of her immortal self striding the earth while puny creatures around her aged like crumbling monuments.
She shouldered open the main office door and stopped short. Her lion's blood surged, as the scent of fresh peony enveloped her vampiric senses. Blake was already here.
The morning was already off to a good start!!
The mortal sat at his desk outside Rose's private chamber, typing diligently. He looked up with a bright smile that always made Rose's black heart stir.
"Good morning Miss Shelley," Blake chirped. "I got a head start on the Reuters analytics for you."
Rose swallowed hard, struggling to tamp down the feral hunger twisting inside her core. "Adequate," she managed gruffly before stalking past into the quiet sanctuary of her personal office. She leaned against the door taking shallow breaths of air untainted by Blake's allure.
Such fine specimen!
She observed Blake with a corner eye.
The siren call of mortality swept Rose's senses each day her secretary spent within these cold corridors. Wine-rich blood pounding through velvet skin, dizzying scent of life itself - it made the vampire ravenous in ways she barely controlled.
What was the better option? Perhaps to keep her distance from the mortal. Surely that seemed reasonable and effective.
Wait! Deny Blake's presence beside her? Remove her from this world entirely then!
The thought made death seem infinitely preferable to such unendurable solitude.
Taking a steadying draft of blood-red Sangiovese before more critical thoughts, Rose composed herself. Meetings awaited. Business as usual to maintain the immortal front.
She sank into her ebony throne behind the granite desk. The sharp pain kept the predator's lust at bay. Out there Blake's sweet throbbing life was just beyond muffled drywall - yet so tantalizingly forbidden to claim with fang or caress.
Rose gazed at her clawed ruby lacquered nails, considering philosophies old as the night itself. Mortal and immortal, demon and angel - it made little difference in the end. Death always came to claim one or both lovers eventually. And Rose had long resigned herself to eternal isolation as her only blasphemous survival tactic.
Yet now with every pulse and breath tempting beyond the glass partition, Blake seemed a sacrilege risked for and worth every agonizing restraint against Rose's most base hungers.
Star-crossed non serviam. Rose would make a paradise of her personal hell by possessing what she should most profane.
The door's mahogany rap cut through her reverie. Rose straightened, as the first executive team members filed in dutifully. Time to throw herself into the company's labyrinthine affairs.
If nothing else, these drab financial reports and pipeline projections provided numbing distraction from Blake's siren song bleeding through the air...
Hours later the project leaders dispersed as Rose reviewed her calendar. Early evening meeting with the board. Then finally, quiet personal time -
"Miss Shelley?" The soft voice made her look up. Blake stood uncertainly at the doorway holding a stack of binders. "Do you need me to pull any other data before the late call?"
Rose pursed her lips, adoring how Blake always went beyond expected. "No that should suffice," she replied tersely, unable to meet those nervous eyes.
Her tone softened. "But I may have additional requests later in the evening. Please stay close by...if you have no other engagements." She hoped Blake sensed the unspoken invitation behind her words.
The subtle nod and blush told Rose the message was received. She watched, taut with desire, as her secretary scurried away back to his desk.
Running a hand through her hair, Rose exhaled with sharp realization. She scheduled these endless meetings solely to delay being alone with Blake, to guard against temptation. Yet every passing night drew them closer to the fire neither could resist forever.
Damning them both to an exquisite damnation barred on every side by beloved pain.
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