Page 50 of Bleed

And maybe I needed the reminder.

Chapter

Twelve

The weirdest part about my best friend living here isn’t that it looks like a castle. It’s not even that it’s filled with actual servants, or that she’s residing with a vampire king she’s blood-bonded to. No, the strangest thing of all is that instead of a guard dog, Taylor has an attack cat.

As soon as we step through the door, Ozzy launches himself at us from out of nowhere– or more specifically, at Elliott.

The cat hits the polished floor in a streak of black fur and misplaced confidence, hissing as he claws at the leg of Elliott’s suit pants. The man barely reacts. He just flicks an annoyed glance downward and brushes Ozzy away with the nonchalance of removing a piece of lint from his jacket.

The cat immediately comes back for round two.

This time, Elliott stares him down and pops out his fangs, which is evidently enough to send Oz running for the hills. He lets out an offended screech and bolts up the staircase, his back arched and fur standing on end as he disappears around the landing.

“And here I thought he only did that to James,” I muse, chuckling as I watch after Ozzy with amusement.

Elliott retracts his fangs and straightens one of his cuffs. “Cats and vampires have always been at odds.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Why?”

“They recognize us as predators.”

I turn toward him, arching a dubious brow. “You’re saying house cats are challenging vampires for dominance?”

“Essentially.”

I snort. “That might be the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

One corner of his mouth twitches. He holds my gaze for a beat, lips parting like he’s about to say something else. I almost wait to hear it, but then the memory of our conversation in the car resurfaces, along with the raw sting of his jabs.

Right.

I’m still mad at him.

I huff out an annoyed breath and turn away before he can say whatever was on his mind. Thankfully, before the silence settles into something awkward, Taylor’s cheerful voice cuts down the hall.

“You’re here!”

I turn to see her poking her head out of the dining room doorway, grinning so wide I can’t help but smile back.

“I’m here!” I chirp, holding out my arms.

She laughs and starts toward me.

It’s honestly unfair that she gets more beautiful every time I see her. The girl is practically glowing, cream-colored silk gliding over her skin as she moves and her chestnut hair styled in glossy waves that bounce with every step.

Maybe it’s immortality.

Maybe it’s the blood bond.

Or maybe she’s just God’s favorite.

James follows her out of the dining room at a more measured pace, the two of them coming to greet us in the foyer while their butler disappears silently into the shadows somewhere. Taylor throws her arms around me without hesitation, smelling faintly of expensive perfume and her signature vanilla shampoo. James and Elliott exchange a quiet handshake while we pull apart, then we all drift toward the dining room together.

It’s ridiculously elegant. The table’s already set for four with polished silver gleaming beneath candlelight and crystal glasses catching reflections from the chandelier overhead. The smell of garlic, butter, and fresh bread wafts in from the nearby kitchen.

“This is fancy as fuck,” I remark, nudging Taylor.