Chapter 15

Refocus

Lord Dante Vittori was a complete enigma.

After Echo had resolved to learn all he could about the man, Dante had to go and make it all the more confusing. He’d just roughed up a fellow vampire lord, and after his lackeys carted the bleeding vampire away, Dante stood there in the middle of his office, staring at Echo expectantly—as if waiting for Echo to share his thoughts on what he’d just witnessed. But truly, Echo was too conflicted to say anything.

Dante had just displayed himself a defender of the weak. A vampire who didn’t tolerate the mistreatment of slaves. It was all a follow-through of his words to Echo in the hallway: “Monsters with refined tastes are all we are. It won’t stop on its own. On and on it will go, until someone strong enough brings it all down.”

But what of Dante’s own actions? The things he’d done to contradict this spouted idealism. Was this all a show to appeal to Echo, and make him more compliant? Dante had whipped him and made him a thrall. Not to mention the stolen border slaves he shipped off to who knows where, likely to a horrific death.

Echo’s thoughts veered to Axel and what he would think. He would scoff at the supposed abuse policy in Dante’s contract. It was a thin veneer of protection for a slave, when slavery itself was the greatest abuse of all.

Axel would never care to learn why Dante did what he did, or why he wanted to kill the king who gave him so much power. Axel had said it to Echo over and over again—all vampires deserved to die. It was a lesson once written into his back with blood, when Echo had hesitated to kill his first vampire.

It hadn’t mattered that the vamp was tied down with silver chains and defenseless. Axel had brought him that way to Echo. The knife was thrust into Echo’s hand along with the order to kill. The silver blade needed to pierce the vampire’s heart precisely. And Echo… couldn’t.

He did not earn his knife that night. But the next time, with the whip having etched the lesson into his skin, Echo didn’t hesitate. That knife was back at the apartment on Dante’s desk, and Echo felt the strong urge to have it in his hand.

Dante stepped closer to Echo, all that innate authority saturating the space around them. His eyes dared Echo to ask that one-word question burning unspoken on his tongue. And Echo knew Dante would answer. So he didn’t ask.

“I’d like to go back to the apartment,” Echo said, his voice not as strong as he really wanted it to be.

He needed to ground himself somewhere. He needed to clear his mind, regain focus. And as unpleasant as it was to admit, Dante’s apartment was the only place he could do that. He no longer had access to the tranquility of the forest, the meandering streams, or the calm lake. Or Axel’s firm hand. Echo would have to make do.

Concern seemed to flit across Dante’s features, and he reached out as if to comfort? To calm? Echo pressed harder against the wall, and Dante lowered his hand.

“I have other work to do, but I’ll drop you off.”

Some of the tension released from Echo’s shoulders. He needed some time away from Dante, and he wasn’t going to allow himself to wonder if Dante knew that and was giving him that time.

They left the office and went back down the long stretch of white hallway. Prepared this time, Echo avoided the observation windows and kept his eyes on Dante’s broad back. He hoped he wouldn’t have to return. But if Dante required it, he would, and may the ghosts of those memories stay buried.

When the revolving doors expelled Dante and Echo, Mikhail was waiting for them by the car. The blazing Texas sun was a relief, and Echo didn’t look back when he got into the car.

“We’re dropping Echo off at Sky Castle first,” Dante said.

“You got it, Boss.” Mikhail started the engine.

The route back to Sky Castle was the same, and Echo predicted each maneuver with accuracy. He could have made the trip on his own. Dante remained silent, and from Echo’s furtive glances, the vampire appeared deep in thought.

When the tallest building in the city loomed ahead, Mikhail turned down a side road rather than pulling up to the front of Sky Castle like before. Another turn and the car was swallowed into an underground parking garage.

Dante got out of the car first, while Mikhail stayed and kept the engine running. Echo used his own door to exit the vehicle this time, a little surprised it wasn’t locked. That small and simple thing—using his own damned door—gave him some much-needed autonomy.

The garage was dim and chilly compared to outside, and it was quiet. Dante was already walking toward a row of elevators, and Echo jogged to catch up.

“The elevator will take you directly to our floor, number 89,” Dante said, pressing the up-arrow button.

“Why didn’t we use the garage before? Instead of walking through the lobby?”

“I figured you’d want to see it, get a lay of the land and all that.” Dante smirked down at Echo.

That was true. Learning his new environment would be crucial to Echo’s mission, both of them. Echo nodded.

“And they needed to see you with me, as mine.” Dante’s eyes darkened, as they always did when he said stuff like that.

One of the elevators opened with a soft ding.

“Floor 89,” Dante reiterated. “Stay alert. My collar protects you, but not necessarily from the king—don’t bring yourself to his attention.”

“You’re letting me go up… on my own?”

“You can go where you like in this city, Echo. For now, I ask you to stay in Sky Castle until I get you a phone.”

This “freedom” wasn’t absolute. Echo knew the collar had a tracker. He couldn’t escape to the rebel compound, even if they hadn’t relocated after his capture. And rather than some semblance of generosity, this allowance spoke more to Dante’s self-confidence—that he could keep control of Echo, even as he let him off the so-called leash.

But still, Echo felt a soaring in his chest. A feeling that made it harder to think of Dante how he was supposed to think of Dante.

“Most of Sky Castle’s areas are restricted access for supernaturals only. Don’t get caught.”

That… spoke of Dante’s trust…

Echo smiled. It was fierce and determined, eager to meet the challenge. “I won’t,” he said. And Echo got into the elevator.

He pressed the button for floor 89, and the doors cut off his view of Dante’s unwavering gaze. Echo sagged against the wall, the fast upward movement not helping how unsteady Echo felt. He would explore his new playing field later. For the moment, he was eager to return to the apartment.

Again, the hallway was empty. There had to be other vamps living on this floor, but Echo wouldn’t question his luck. If he had to, he could flawlessly project himself as Lord Dante Vittori’s obedient new thrall, but this little break was welcome.

When he came to the door, Echo realized Dante hadn’t mentioned needing some sort of key. He hadn’t locked it when they left. But the handle didn’t budge when Echo pressed down. There was a dark, glassy panel inlaid above the handle, a scanner.

Echo gave it a try, pressing the thumb of his dominant hand to the panel. It flashed green, and the locking mechanism clicked. He guessed Dante must have set it up at some point. Rather than getting annoyed, Echo let himself inside the apartment.

He avoided looking at himself in the giant mirror facing the entrance and walked through the open kitchen and living space. The slaves that had been there earlier were gone, and Echo was entirely alone. At some point, he’d look around for any cameras. But there was one thing he needed to do right then.

In Dante’s office, still lying on the desk, was Echo’s knife—the one granted to him after his first kill.

He touched the ever-familiar handle, flooding his mind with thoughts of Axel. Echo replayed his lessons, his training, until all the soft thoughts he’d had of Dante honed to hard steel.

For his weakness, Echo wanted to be punished. He wanted to hurt. And he wanted the forgiveness only obtained on the other side of pain.

Echo gripped the beautiful dagger and closed his eyes to images of Axel. Echo wasn’t allowed to hurt himself. He’d tried once. Then Axel caught him. That night, it was made clear who his body really belonged to. And now, even as Dante’s venom coursed through his veins, he would firmly remain Axel’s creature.

Echo found a place to keep the knife. Not really hidden, and easily accessible in one of the bedside tables in Dante’s room. Even as he had to endure the vampire’s bed, the knife’s close presence would be a reminder.

Sliding the drawer closed and sitting on the edge of that bed, Echo felt better. Whatever Dante’s reasons were, however he acted—none of that mattered. He had to keep being a monster. Echo would eventually carry out his original mission. And as Axel had taught him, monsters were easy to kill.