"Are you alright…?"
The softly spoken question snaps me out of my thoughts, and I can't help but frown. It strikes me as odd, considering it's coming from someone who's pinned to a goddamn wall in full-blown Jesus Christ fashion.
If anything, shouldn't I be the one asking if he is alright? Although the answer's quite obvious, so maybe not.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
I give James a deadpan look.
"Come on, don't look at me like that." Dude, I'll look at you however the fuck I want. "You might not be in the mood, but I think it's better if we keep the conversation going, just so I know whether you're about to fall into hypothermia or not."
"…I'm not going to fall into hypothermia, don't worry."
"Oh, really? As far as I know, humans are quite weak to the cold, and this great, hospitable dungeon is not exactly what I'd call warm."
No shit, Sherlock! I'm well aware this rundown place is cold as—wait a second.
Am I imagining thing, or is James currently worried about my health? In his situation? Yeah, no. No frigging way.
Oh, come on! Shouldn't he worry about himself first?! He's at the mercy of whoever the fuck thought it was a good idea to crucify him, and his heart is pumping poison in his veins.
I don't know in what language I should tell him, but he's in no position to worry about others!
…But I guess he's right. The sun is about to go down, and the temperature will most likely drop below zero in about an hour, max. I don't even have my coat; that'll teach me to leave it in the lobby. My light blouse and jeans won't protect me much from the cold. That, I've got to give it to him.
Still, I should be alright.
The cold doesn't bother me all that much. I mean, I've spent so many nights in the cabin during winter without even a fire going to keep me warm, yet I haven't lost any part of my body to frostbite: not my nose, not my ears, not my fingers, and not my toes.
—Admittedly, there have been a few close calls, but that's a detail I'm not dumb enough to bring up. Not like I'm planning to bring up my sleepovers in the cabin, to begin with.
Let's go with a half-truth. That sounds like less of assle.
"Fine! If you must know, my fingers and toes are numb, but I'm not yet about to freeze to death. I promise I'll tell you if I start to feel dizzy or have trouble forming coherent thoughts."
"Uh-huh."
Again with the skepticism.
"Say, how about you stop worrying about my little person and start worrying about yourself, hm?"
"Well, I can't help it." He laughs. Why the heck does this idiot always laugh?! "You got dragged into this mess because of me, so—"
"Oh, please, stop it. I knew perfectly well the danger I was getting into when I offered a helping hand to Jordan. An investigation is not all that different from a hunt: both are risky endeavors. No need to feel responsible for me."
"You tried to warn me, though."
"And you should have fucking listened!"
"I will next time."
"If there's a next time."
A smile stretches his lips as silence falls. The cat got his tongue, huh?
Whatever. I gently blow on my hands, which I keep clenching and unclenching. Right now, my fingers are between numb and painful, almost as if ants are crawling on my skin, skin that also seems to have been set on fire. Not the most pleasant sensation, I'll say.
Regardless, I continue moving them despite the pain. But I'm definitely not going to rub them against each other; I've learned over the years that skin starts to get brittle when it grows too cold, and blood doesn't circulate well.
On the bright side, my teeth aren't chattering yet. I'm shivering, though. Maybe I should pace around a bit to warm myself up.
Argh, damn, it's cold.
Fucking hell… if they're planning to keep me alive, couldn't they at least provide a blanket or something?
What inconsiderate abductors. No basic decency whatsoever.
Well, the thought seems to have slipped out as I hear James chuckle. Oops.
"I'd bet a hand Oliver hasn't realized how cold this little dungeon of his can get, and that it can kill you. That guy isn't exactly interested in humans; he only cares for your kin's blood. The rest? Doesn't matter to him."
"Oliver?"
"The mastermind behind our current, let's say, predicament. You met him briefly in the alley before he knocked you out. Ring a bell?"
Ah, the bright-red-eyed guy who was acting like a peacock.
"You seem to know him well."
"As much as I don't want to admit it, this barbaric dimwit is my cousin. We're about the same age, so let's say we spent quite a bit of time together. Vampires and their family gatherings, you know?"
Right, I've heard about these pompous dinners. It's a way to flaunt their power and put into place the raucous youngsters. Sounds like hell, honestly.
"Then, mind enlightening me as to why he hasn't killed me yet?"
'Cause that's been bothering me since I woke up. I don't understand why he hasn't gotten rid of me yet. I'm just a dead weight, and there's no point in keeping me alive.
"Ah, that. Probably to threaten me with killing you if I don't abdicate my position to him in a will of sorts. That's, if the elders haven't already agreed to kick me out of the line of succession and appoint him as the heir instead. These geezers love their political game. I bet it's a mess back home right now—"
Sorry, what? I don't pay much attention to what he says afterward and just straight out cut him off.
"Threaten you?"
"Threaten me, yes."
"With my life?"
"With your life, yes."
…How does that make any sense?! It's not like I'm the guy's lover or anything. We're not even friends, and we don't get along either! So how does threatening to kill me—
"Oh, dear, you should see your face! You look like a goldfish, with the bulging eyes and agape mouth."
James barely finishes talking before bursting out laughing, although his laughter quickly transforms into a violent fit of coughing. Well, that's what happens when you mock others while being pinned to a wall with poison flowing through your veins, dumbass!
Annoyance aside, I leap to my feet and approach him. His face looks paler than usual, if that can be.
"Are you alright? Do you need some blood?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine."
The vampire shakes his head, pretending he hasn't noticed my stare. What a bad liar.
"Anyway, if you think about it, Oliver's train of thought isn't that strange."
"How so?"
Even though I ask, I actually have a hunch. I've just been trying not to think about it.
"Scott, I did use myself as a meat shield to protect you. I'm pretty sure this guy can't even fathom the mere idea of some people actually having a sense of responsibility when it comes to their own mistakes. I put you in harm's way because of my reckless behavior, and I should be the one to pay the price for it, not you."
It's surprising, or maybe not. I did catch a glimpse of his sense of responsibility these past two days, amid the frivolous behavior and irksome smiles. Still, it doesn't mean I'm not left speechless by it.
The dude used himself as a meat shield! A meat shield!
"Hm? What's wrong?"
A little too visibly, James switches gears, his serious expression leaving place to a flirtatious grin. Ah, he's going to say something annoying, isn't he?
"Did you perhaps hope I protected you for another reason? Oh my, a married man shouldn't…!"
"Let me clarify something: I'm not into men, so keep your weird ideas to yourself."
That has the merit to shut him up, and the silly face he makes somehow manages to draw a faint smile out of me.
Why so surprised? There's no way James didn't know my marriage to Jordan wasn't held out of love, but was held out of political necessity. A marriage of convenience doesn't require the parties involved to be attracted to each other. If James hasn't noticed yet, I'm not exactly interested in my husband.
Jordan's face pops into my mind at the thought, and I feel my smile become stiff. Maybe even self-loathing.
I wonder how he explained my absence to the kids, and I wonder what he's doing.
Knowing him, he's probably back to working. I suspect my disappearance hasn't affected his routine much.
I mean, my father barely did anything when my mom and I disappeared, so I doubt my husband, whom I haven't even known for a month, is going to do much, either.