07 The Return_ Midnight - L. J. Smith

staff as to her household whims?
She actually said that about my “whims,” Jessalyn thought as she arched her neck back
and ran sharp fingernails through Damon’s thick soft hair. And—oh, it’s no good. I’m no good. I’m a
vampire princess, and I can look the part, but I can’t play it.
You’re every bit a princess, your highness, Damon soothed. You just need someone to
enforce your orders. Someone who has no doubts about your superiority. Are your servants slaves?
No, they’re all free.
Well, that makes it a little trickier, but you can always yell louder at them. Damon felt
swollen with vampire blood. Two more days of this and he would be, if not his old self, then at least
almost his old self: a full vampire, free to walk about the city as he liked. And with the Power and
status of a vampire prince. It was almost enough to balance out the horrors he’d gone through in the
last couple of days. At least, he could tell himself that and try to believe it.
“Listen,” he said abruptly, letting go of Jessalyn’s slight body, the better to look her in the
eye. “Your glorious highness, let me do one favor for you before I die of love or you have me killed
for impudence. Let me bring you ‘color’—and then let me stand beside you if any of your menials
grumble about it.”
Jessalyn wasn’t used to this kind of sudden decision, but couldn’t help but be carried
along with Damon’s fiery excitement. She arched her head back again.
When he finally left the bijoux palace, Damon went out the front door. He had with him a
little of the money left over from pawning the gems, but this was more than enough for the purpose he
had in mind. He was quite certain that the next time he went out, it would be from the flying portico.
He stopped at a dozen shops and spent until his last coin was gone. He’d meant to sneak
in a visit to Bonnie as well while doing his errands, but the market was in the opposite direction from
the inn where he’d left her, and in the end there just wasn’t time.
He didn’t worry much as he walked back to the bijoux castle. Bonnie, soft and fragile as
she seemed, had a wiry core that he was sure would keep her inside the room for three days. She
could take it. Damon knew she could.
He banged on the little castle’s gate until a surly guard opened it.
“What do you want?” the guard spat.
Bonnie was bored out of her mind. It had only been a day since Damon had left her—a day she could
only count by the number of meals brought to her, since the enormous red sun stood forever on the
horizon and the blood-red light never varied unless it was raining.
Bonnie wished it was raining. She wished it was snowing, or that there would be a fire
or a hurricane or a small tsunami. She had given one of the star balls a try, and found it a ridiculous
soap opera that she couldn’t understand in the least.
She wished, now, that she had never tried to stop Damon from coming here. She wished
that he had pried her off before they had both fallen into the hole. She wished that she had grabbed
Meredith’s hand and just let go of Damon.
And this was only the first day.