“What? I was just making an observation.”
I coughed and muttered under my breath.
“Did you just call me a dick?”
“I was coughing,” I pointed out.
“Were you,” he said, grinning at me.
“Yes,” I said playfully, reaching for him.
He took a sideways step into what could only be described as a loft. “Seriously, though,” he said, indicating the room with a wave of his arms, “everything in here is yours.”
I looked at him.
“What? It is? All of it.”
“And you?”
“And me what?” He looked confused for a moment, and then his eyes narrowed. “Are you ask—am I yours? Is that what you mean?”
I nodded.
“Of course.” He was adamant, and his voice got louder. “More than anything.”
It was strange the way one moment I was on edge, anxious, and the next, I had the overwhelming need to put my mark on Varic. The feeling of foreboding dissipated, leaving behind an odd sense of challenge.
Striding into the room, passing him on the way, I put my bag down on the table beside his before I crossed to the very modern industrial kitchen that lined one side of the floor, along with an island with cupboards and a long counter that needed barstools.
“Are you feeling better all of—”
“Why on earth do you have this?”
He put his hands in his pockets. “For you. I just had it added.”
I was impressed, because the brickwork looked ancient, and the Italian marble countertops and stainless-steel appliances were stunning. “You put this in when?”
“Last week.”
I leaned back on the counter. “What if I told you no, that I was never visiting Valletta?”
He crossed his arms. “I knew you would come see my home, and there is no kitchen in this tomb, so what were you going to do?”
“Why do you keep calling it a tomb?”
“Because it’s built over a hypogeum and catacombs, so what would you call it?”
“So you’re being literal, not colorful.”
“Yes.”
I nodded. “How far does it go down?”
“Hundreds of feet. It’s layered like other catacombs that you’ll visit here, the difference being that these are private and no one but the Noreia are allowed to see them.”
“Every vampyr is allowed, regardless of class?”
“In most of it. There are parts that only a few will ever see, only royals allowed.”
I saw his bed in another corner of the room, and in another a sectional and several large chairs, along with a large-screen TV and different gaming consoles, as well as a pool table. Near the newly created kitchen was an office complete with a desk, more bookshelves, two computer screens, and near that, gym equipment.
“Does that closed door lead to the bathroom?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Nice that you put it near your bed.”
“It seemed reasonable.”
“And is it big enough for two people in there?”
“It certainly is.”
I levered off the counter, crossing the space toward his bed. “You don’t entertain here, do you?” I asked, since besides the chairs around the dining room table and a few near where the television was, there was nowhere else for people to sit.
“No,” he answered, following me. “This is my private space. No one comes here except for Tiago and Hadrian, the other members of the dreki, and those I’ve had in my bed.”
As soon as he said it, my stomach rolled, and I had a spark of pain behind my left eye at the same time the air in the room stilled, got heavy and thick, like it was hard to move through my lungs.
“And how many of those have there been?” It was hard to form the words, and when I got them out, I heard how strange and guttural my voice sounded.
“That bed is new,” he explained, giving me a trace of a smile. “I didn’t want you to… I wanted it to be new.”
“Thoughtful of you,” I said dryly. “But how many through those doors, in this space?”
Quick tip of his head, roll of his shoulders, both actions conveying unimportance.
“Tell me,” I demanded softly through clenched teeth, feeling the jealousy and possessiveness rising in me like bile in the back of my throat.
Finally, I understood. And it wasn’t that I believed in ghosts, but I was certain that energy from people got left behind in all kinds of places. I was certain that memories were the same. It was the old saying, if these walls could talk. I was fairly certain that Varic’s space, inhabited by him for centuries, was trying to push me away. And maybe because I could create my own barrier, I could feel the one belonging to the loft.
“You know,” he said, looking at me, “lots of people have told me it feels weird in here, over the years.”
I had no doubt. Men came and went, but in the end it was Varic’s space, only his alone.
“Shall I be honest about the number?”
“Please.”
“Hundreds,” he admitted, stopping, hands in the pockets of his pants when I pivoted to look at him. “Maybe thousands.”
But in all that time, of all the people who had crossed the threshold, there was only one he had offered the space to. I was the only one who could claim everything, as well as Varic himself. And because of that, the loft wanted me out.
Years ago, a friend of mine had said I could stay in his guesthouse. His mother had never liked me. He’d given me the key and I’d gone, alone, to move in my things. First, outside the front door, I dropped the key. When I went to pick it up, I hit my forehead on the doorknob. When I stood up, I hit the back of my head on the doorknob. Once I was up, a hornet buzzed by my face, which caused me to step back, lose my balance, and fall off the porch. I fell sideways onto the lawn. Standing up, I dropped the key for the second time, this time into the grass. Once I retrieved it, I walked back up the steps. It was cold near the door but warm at the bottom of the stairs. I took the hint and left.
The feeling I had now was similar. The difference was the man was mine, and the space had to be as well. But also, here, in his home, in the bigger picture of his home, of the palace, it was necessary to stake my claim.
“Look, Jason, I didn’t mean to—”
“You told me you wouldn’t have any courtesans, but do you have concubines?”
“Of course not,” he said irritably. “Why would you even ask that?”
“Will you when you become king?”
“No,” he replied irritably. “I have no need of them because I won’t entertain the way my father does, conducting business while fucking.”
“That’s good,” I said, feeling it now, the weight of the number. Of the legion of lovers who’d been in his bed. It was unbearable, suffocating, coiling around me like a constrictor, crushing me in folds of insecurity, of comparisons to all those who had walked through the door before me.
There wasn’t baggage with him; there were fortified cities.
It was the balance again. We had to be equal.
He was mine, and he needed to not just say it but know it down deep in his heart. And yes, he’d pledged his soul to me, but that was before I understood who and what he truly was. There was a chasm between us that I needed to bridge.