Other than the fact that I can tell he just is.
Wolf eyes me for a moment before he reaches over and undoes my other wrist, my skin aching as the pressure is released. “Maybe the same thing that makes you so special.”
“He’s part witch?”
He shakes his head, suppressing a smile. “No. And it would kill him to hear you say that…so maybe save that as ammo for another day. He’s sure to piss you off again.”
With the rope off my wrists, I push myself up, my back aching. I thought vampires didn’t get aches and pains. Shitty deal.
Wolf moves down to my ankles, his light brown hair gleaming blonde in the candlelight.
“Why are you untying me?” I ask. “Are you helping me escape?”
“Escape?” he says, looking up at me, brow creasing slightly. “No. There’s no escape.”
He says it so simply that it detonates in my heart.
He gives me a quick smile. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right.”
“But it’s the truth, right?”
“It’s the truth.” He sighs and goes over to my other ankle. “I’m untying you because Solon told me to do so.”
“And you do everything he says. Did he…make you?”
Another suppressed grin. “No. I am a lot like you. A natural born. My thirty-fifth birthday was very similar to this.”
“Wait,” I say, leaning forward, rubbing at the indents in my wrists, trying to ignore the lack of tattoos. “Not your twenty-first?”
“Males turn at thirty-five. Gives the women a bit of an upper hand, doesn’t it? They get more experience. Though I guess when you’re living for centuries, those fourteen years don’t make much difference. And if you don’t identify as male or female, then it could happen at any period in-between.”
“So then, what is Solon if he’s not half witch? Half…werewolf?”
He starts laughing, face going red.
“What?” I ask. “Are you a werewolf? Your name is Wolf.”
He calms down, but he’s still smiling. “I’m Norwegian. My parents named me Wolf. I’ve held on to the name ever since. Simple as that. And if you’re asking about werewolves, then I’m guessing you probably think Santa Claus is real too.”
I frown. “Uh…is he?”
He rolls his eyes. “No,” he says dryly. “There’s no Santa Claus, sorry to disappoint you. And there’s no such thing as werewolves. They were us all along. Back in the old days, vampires were more likely to shapeshift. Doesn’t happen much anymore.”
“Shapeshifters!” I exclaim. “I have shapeshifter erotica on my Kindle.”
“Yeah, I bet you do,” he says. “Okay, come on.” He gestures for me to get off the bed.
Suddenly I’m filled with fear, unable to move.
“Not until you tell me what’s happening.” I feel like the lamb being led to slaughter.
“Solon told me to give you a tour of the house,” he says patiently. “Says he didn’t get a chance the other day. That is if you’re feeling okay.”
The other day. Where is time going? I haven’t even felt the need to go to the bathroom. Though I guess if I’m not consuming anything, that might happen. I don’t know what to expect with my body anymore.
“Where is he?” I ask, still suspicious.
“He’s running some errands. For the party tonight,” Wolf says.
I have too many questions, but I’m not going to pass up the chance to get out of this damn bedroom.
I get to my feet, feeling unsteady for a moment, leaning against the bedpost.
“Are you okay?” he asks, eyeing me with concern.
I nod. “Just dizzy.”
“We weren’t sure if you’d be in the throes of bloodlust right now,” he says. “But you seem…normal.” He studies me carefully. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m thirsty, if that’s what you mean. In fact, I’ve been dreaming about…”
“Blood?”
I make a face even though my body grows warm at the thought. “Yeah.”
“Hmmm. Maybe it’s being tempered by your, uh, other side. I know when I turned, I was insatiable for days. I hope it’s not like that for you. It was a fucking trip.”
“When did this happen?” I ask him, following him as he heads to the door. Part of me thinks that maybe on the tour of the house I can still escape. I mean, I don’t know where I’d go given what I know about my parents, but it has to be better than in here. I don’t trust Wolf any more than I trust Absolon, and my fate is still up for grabs.
“Long time ago.”
“So, can you shapeshift?” I ask as he opens the door. We step out into a dark hall, lit candles on gilded wall sconces, the carpet worn and red.
“Unfortunately not.”
“But Solon can,” I guess.
“Maybe.” He smiles, shrugs. “I haven’t seen it, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Told you, he’s not like most of us.”
“And he’s not part witch or werewolf or…demon?”
He tilts his head from side to side, as if considering it. “No. Demons are…something we don’t deal with. That’s a human problem.”