Ulysses Exposed (Blaire Thorne Book 1) Page 2

  “Why are you in bed with me—and please tell me you are not naked?”

  “Don’t worry, your virtue is safe.” He chuckled. “We have great healing capabilities, not only for were-animals but for humans as well. We took turns lying with you.”

  Someone moved behind me, and a squeal sound escaped my lips.

  She laughed and said, “I don’t like women, sweetheart.” She patted me on my shoulder. “How do you feel?” She sat up far enough so that I could see her face. She too wore underwear—a navy sports bra with black panties. She threw the covers off and climbed out the bed.

  “I don’t know how I feel. I don’t feel any pain, I think.” I frowned.

  I lay flat on my back and made sure the duvet tucked in everywhere. I straightened my legs and flexed my toes; something tightened around my left thigh, and a small cry escaped my mouth. Stitches pulled when I stretched my legs. My arms were above the covers, and I felt my left-hand side. There was something covering the wound—I would have a look when I was alone. I didn’t want to lift the covers and flash anyone. I might have flashed when they put me in the bed, but as I wasn’t awake, that didn’t count.

  I lifted my hand to my head and felt stitches above my left eye, and more stitches on the side of my head where a section of my hair had been shaved. I could hide the wound when my hair was loose. I knew that I was lucky to be alive.

  I watched the woman pull on her jeans and a black t-shirt. She added a shoulder holster and put her gun in place. I tensed when she caught my eye.

  “We are guards for the master.” She answered my question without having to be asked, and she patted her gun like it was a pet.

  “Which animal are you?” I said, my eyes flickering from her gun to her face.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on socks and shoes. “I’m a were-rat, and he’s a were-leopard.” She pointed to Sebastian.

  Okay, now I remember Sebastian telling me that he was a were-leopard when he was carrying me.

  “Can you remember anything?” Sebastian asked.

  I faced him. Sebastian had moved and sat against the headboard.

  “No,” I said and shook my head at the same time—it didn’t hurt. Yay for me!

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Two days.”

  “Shit. Has it been two days? They ripped me to shreds, and I almost died. How come I feel so good? I shouldn’t be feeling this good, should I?”

  “Like I said, we are good at healing.” Sebastian’s smile reached his stunning green eyes, the color of fresh green leaves after a summer’s rain.

  “I don’t suppose you know which were-animal attacked me and whether I will change into something furry at the next full moon?”

  The two guards shared a look, but Sebastian answered. “We don’t know. The doctor will take blood in a day or two for testing, and we will see at the end of the month if there are any”—he hesitated, perhaps trying to find the right word—“changes.”

  “Do you know if anyone has been looking for me? I should probably go to the police.”

  “Well, sweetheart,” the were-rat stood and combed her fingers through her short brown hair—it’s a short bob and easy to maintain. “I think the police already have enough cases, and your file might fall to the bottom of their shit-list. Don’t take this personally, but you might have to figure this one out on your own.”

  She must have seen the shock on my face and added, “I’m Elena.” She smiled. To Sebastian she said, “Hang back and give her the in’s and out’s of everything; I’m sure they will fetch her for dinner later, or you can take her there yourself if you aren’t busy.” She said goodbye and left.

  Sebastian moved beside me and pulled the sheet off completely, and he too was in his underwear—boxers that hung just a little too low. He had broad shoulders and a slim waist beneath a well-developed inguinal crease. He caught me staring at him, and I felt heat rise in my face. He grinned mischievously at me and grabbed his clothing from a table.

  I frowned with a hint of anger just below the surface; I guess it’s easier to be angry than embarrassed.

  As if he knew I was still watching, Sebastian pulled his black jeans and t-shirt on seductively, and slow enough so that I could see all his muscles move. I licked dry lips. He wore similar clothing to Elena—their guard uniform.

  He went to a shelf on the far wall and came back with a heap of clothing and toiletries which he placed on the bed near to me.

  “We had to cut your old clothing off. Fortunately, the master arranged for some clothes for you. The bathroom is there.” He pointed to a door on his left. “The doctor said you can shower with the plasters on. I will wait out here until you finish, then we can eat dinner.”

  “Thank you.” I pulled the sheet out from where it was tucked under the mattress and bunched it around my body like a large fluffy dress. Climbing off the bed was difficult with the sheet, but I tried to be as ladylike as I could whilst grabbing the pile of items with my free hand.

  “Thank you for helping me back there in the alley. And for carrying me, and now for this; for healing me.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “Really? You save me, and it’s nothing?”

  “Why not?” His face was pleasant. There was no malice hidden there, only an honest face, clean shaven and almost innocent-looking. “We helped you because we could.”

  We held eye contact for a few seconds, and then I asked, “Who is this master you two keep referring to?”

  “Léon. Does his name ring a bell?”

  I shook my head. “Only from two nights ago, when you found me. But I don’t really remember.”

  “He is the master of all the were-animals and vampires in Sterling Meadow.”

  I shrugged. I knew which town I was in, that I could remember. But, I didn’t know him.

  The attack had taken the memory of who I was and everything else I knew before two days ago. I remembered how to talk and how to do normal stuff, but I didn’t remember people, or who I was.

  Who am I? I don’t know. I’m a shell of my former self, desperately needing to piece the puzzle of my life back together again. If the police weren’t able to help, would Léon or Sebastian? They didn’t know me, and they didn’t owe me anything, so why should they help me? I already owed them my life.

  Did the vampire want something from me in return? Did I owe him a favor now? If I did, what would that favor entail? Vampires scheme and plot and use their power against each other. Their eyes alone can control humans. Would he want to control me?

  I was standing with the sheet around my body and clutching the items in my hands. Fatigue enveloped me as I stood in my make-shift dress. I wanted to clean up before I became lethargic. “Okay, let me take a shower.”

  I locked the bathroom door and placed the clothing and toiletries beside the neatly rolled white towels on the white marble table near to the bath. The tiles all around, cream with dark swirls on them, made the walls come alive as you walked into the bathroom. The basin, toilet, and bath were black—a stark contrast to the usual white or cream. The shower could fit at least six people with enough jets to massage all your aching muscles at the same time, and the bath could seat at least four adults comfortably. The bathroom was huge and dark, but the colors blended well.

  One wall was entirely dominated by mirrored glass, so that whatever you did in the shower or bath was in full view of anyone you shared the room with. I glanced at the mirror. I didn’t want to see the damage, but I had to look.

  I faced the mirror and dropped the sheet. I had a good look at the front of my body. The three deep lines running across my left thigh had been stitched. It must have been one large claw to cause that kind of damage. A were-wolf, a were-lion or perhaps a were-leopard?

  I touched my abdomen lightly. I could feel all the stitches through the large plaster that covered from my bellybutton all the way around to near my spine. Still trailing lightly along the edge of the plaster, near my pel
vis, was a scar running up my abdomen. It was a low vertical caesarian section scar that was old and didn’t hurt when I ran my fingers over it. Doctors didn’t take procedures like that lightly; the baby I had carried must have had to come out immediately.

  With everything that had happened, I hadn’t thought of anything else. Did this mean that, somewhere, I had a child waiting for me? Had it survived the birth? Did it live with me? How old was it? Was I married, or did I live with someone?

  Something tightened in my chest. There could be someone waiting for me to come home. They might need me to come home.

  Shit.

  I twisted my body around so that I could see the full length of the large plaster and saw a tattoo of a butterfly—a Ulysses butterfly. Not a small dainty one on a shoulder, but a large 3D version with a wingspan of at least four inches on each shoulder blade. It was beautiful. It looked almost as though the butterfly could fly from my back. The wings were shaded with bright blues and greens, and as I looked closer in the mirror to see the detail, I saw each wing had been finely tattooed with intricate details that must have taken days to complete. The outline of the wings looked like hieroglyphic symbols, so small that the artist must have used the smallest needle possible, which came with a lot of pain.

  Is this who I was? A tattooed mother running around the streets at night?

  I combed my fingers through my hair until I found the shaved section. It didn’t hurt; surely, I should feel some pain? The stitches felt spiky against my fingertips as they brushed the smooth, naked skin surrounding it. My green eyes looked dark and were very close to a grey or charcoal color. My left eye socket and cheek were bruised, and already changing color like blossoming flowers in spring. The stitches above my eye were finer, and their immaculate presentation suggested that they might not leave a scar at all.

  I should be dead with this amount of injury. I was not a were-animal or a vampire, and I didn’t have any mystical powers. It was impossible that I had survived, and yet I had. If I had to go back to that alley, how much blood would I find pooled on the ground? How much blood did I lose while Sebastian carried me?

  The confusion I felt was more than I could bear. Why can’t I remember anything? What was I doing alone in that alley? What was I thinking?

  A headache started, and I didn’t want to think anymore.

  With great care, I removed the underwear that I had awoken wearing, unsuccessfully trying to avoid any stabs of pain from my wounds. As I stood there naked in the unfamiliar bathroom, the true nature of the ordeal that I had sustained tore through me.

  I climbed into the hot shower and cried. I let the tears flow down my face and mix with the hot water. I stood where no-one could hear or see me, and I held myself. I shivered under the hot water as it fell on my skin, and it felt good; I felt alive.

  When I was ready to wash, I glanced at all the expensive-looking bottles standing on the glass shelves against the wall in the shower. The shampoo was French, as was the conditioner, and I used both to wash the traces of red from my long brown hair. As the water ran through it, my hair felt smooth and smelled fresh, vaguely reminding me of the scent of the ocean. The delicate and clean soap, also from France, had hints of citrus, lavender, and plum. I washed my body with the soap, and the foam cleaned all the dried blood away from my aching body.

  My muscles didn’t ache as much when I climbed out of the shower. It was only the sharp pull of the stitches in my skin that burned when I moved.

  As water ran along the contours of my body, I began to dry myself with one of the large towels that rested on the table, wrapping it around my body so that it hung all the way to my shins. Once dry, I took the toiletries from the table and set them near the basin. I brushed my teeth, applied some deodorant and used the face cream that was standing near the mirror beside the other little bottles.

  I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help but notice that all the cosmetics were French. I guessed that it was true what people said about vampires; some were unnecessarily elegant.

  I reached for the fresh clothing that I had left beside the bath. The bra was lace and matched the panties, both silky and expensive. The underwear I had previously worn was all cotton and didn’t match. As I slipped them on, I realized that, apart from the fact that they fitted perfectly, they were strangely comfortable. The new jeans were a perfect fit to the curve of my hips and slender waist. The black v-neck t-shirt was just as comfortable, and luckily the lace bra I wore beneath wasn’t push-up, so there was no cleavage showing.

  I stood staring at my toned body in the new outfit and flexed my bicep muscles. As soon as I had, I smiled. I looked like one of the guards in my black shirt and jeans.

  I opened the bathroom door and saw Sebastian sitting in the chair reading a book. He looked at me and frowned.

  “What?”

  “Your hair,” he chortled.

  “Shit.” As soon as he mentioned it, I realized that my unkempt hair was still sodden from the shower. I went back into the bathroom, bent my body forward and towel-dried it.

  When I came up, Sebastian stood next to me, holding a spray bottle.

  “Turn around.”

  I turned and stared at him in the mirror as he sprayed the stuff onto my hair.

  “It will keep your hair soft.”

  I picked up a comb, and it glided through my hair like a hot knife through butter. My hair began to straighten, and, as Sebastian had promised, it was soft.

  “Is this your room?” I asked him

  “No, it’s the master’s.”

  “Shit.”

  “You say ‘shit’ a lot.” He smirked at me.

  “Well, yeah. You might, too, if you were me. I feel like I have invaded the man’s personal space, and now I’ve used all his products.”

  “Don’t worry about it. The master is a very generous host. You’re welcome to use anything you find.” In the mirror’s reflection, I saw Sebastian smile, and although the warmth there seemed genuine, I also saw that there was a darkness behind the alluring green eyes. He held my gaze for a moment before he spoke again, turning for the door. “Come, let’s go eat.”

  I followed Sebastian out.

  CHAPTER 3

  WE WALKED DOWN a long corridor. There were other bedrooms on either side and at the end of the hall, a gym, unisex showers and lockers. Men walked to their lockers without a towel around their waists, and they didn’t seem bothered in the slightest when they saw me.

  We turned a corner, and the smell of food wafted upon the air. The aromatic smells were tantalizing, and my mouth began to water. We climbed a flight of stairs with an entrance ahead, a dining room to the left and the kitchen on the right. The kitchen was buzzing with black-clothed bodyguards, all armed and serious.

  The presence of so many support staff confounded me. If the master was so well liked, why were there so many guards?

  Near the kitchen’s central island, guards walked around with plates, some empty and others full with food. There were two chefs preparing the food, both dressed in their white uniforms, entirely focused on ensuring the quality of the evening’s service.

  Sebastian led me to the island and handed me a plate. “They always serve three different proteins with carbs; meat, chicken, or veg. Cold drinks are over there in the fridge, but there is also coffee if you’d prefer.” He pointed to the items and moved along the island toward the food. As the chefs moved near to us, he added, “The chefs are mute, but they hear everything, so be careful what you say here.”

  Sebastian nodded at them. They greeted him and turned to face me, offering a small bow. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I simply nodded back. We plated up our food choice and sat at a clean table near the back of the dining room, with our backs to the wall.

  My plate had almost the same amount of food as Sebastian. It looked so good that I had to try all of it: lasagne and roast chicken breasts with a baked potato and a salad on the side. I went back a second time to grab a bottle of water and a cup of coffee. We at
e in comfortable silence as we watched the guards come and go.

  How did I survive the attack? And how had I healed so quickly? If I had been healed by the were-animals ability alone, then that was great—but what if it was something else?

  Perhaps I was infected and would turn furry at the next full moon. If that was the case, which animal would I become? Which beast?

  And, if I didn’t shift, then what was I—a vampire?

  Vampires could heal almost any injury; their throat could be ripped out, and they would still heal. A vampire need only bite a human three times without draining them, and two days later, the human would wake, hungry for blood. I wasn’t craving blood as far as I could tell, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t turning into one, either.

  It was bordering on ridiculous, really. Of all the things I couldn’t remember—like my name—I remembered facts about vampires and were-animals.

  As I sat lost in thought, Sebastian’s plate became almost empty, whereas mine was only half-eaten. Despite my hunger, it hadn’t taken long for me to realize that I couldn’t fit anything else in. I pushed food around on my plate while I waited for him to finish, drinking a few sips of coffee before pushing it aside, along with the plate.

  I couldn’t escape my thoughts. What did Sebastian and Léon have to do to save my life?

  More importantly, what did I have to do in return?

  “Are you ready?”

  I flinched when Sebastian spoke, even though his voice was pleasant.

  “Sorry,” he smiled. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  He had a luscious smile, all perfect teeth and full lips.

  “Are you ready?” He repeated.

  “Lead the way.”