The Asylum Interviews: Bronx (A 0.5) by Drake Jocelynn

Author:Drake, Jocelynn [Drake, Jocelynn]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy, Vampires
Publisher: Harper Voyager
Published: 2012-07-02T14:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

It was only when I was standing in the opulent room with its tall ceiling and prerequisite marble columns that I remembered that I had been stuck in the same dingy jeans and ragged Pixies T-shirt for two days. And I doubted waking up in the women’s bathroom had helped either. I hadn’t a clue as to what my hair looked like, and my teeth were starting to feel a little fuzzy. Yeah, this was how I always imagined meeting the head of the local order of Vestal Virgins. Of course, I could have happily gone through my life without that prestigious honor.

Aemilia lounged on a plush sofa with thick red cushions next to a blazing fire in a hearth that couldn’t have fit in the lobby of the Asylum. One long, pale arm dangled off the end of the sofa, holding a crystal wineglass. She was garbed in a white toga that seemed to barely cover the essentials, while her hair was twisted up and piled on the top of her head. For a chaste group, you’d think these women would be dressed a little more modestly. But then the dozen men scattered around the room, armed like they meant to take on the nearest country alone, kept visitors from being too aggressive.

Beside me, Bronx bowed to Aemilia while I shoved my hands into my pockets. She hadn’t done anything yet to warrant such respect from me. The Vestal Virgins were little more than perverted voyeurs that got off on people’s guilt, remorse, and fear.

“You must be Gage,” she purred in a deep, luscious voice that seemed to strike straight for my groin. Fantastic. This is what I needed. A chaste little sex kitten that wanted to play. Aemilia swung off the sofa and placed her wineglass on a nearby table as she padded closer on bare feet. When she was standing a few feet away, I saw that she was older than I had initially thought—appearing to be in her mid- to late thirties at least, if not a little older. Apparently the Vestal Virgins weren’t kept eternally young by the creature that inhabited their bodies.

“I’m Gage Powell and this is my friend Bronx. We came for a trade,” I said tightly.

Aemilia’s thin brow arched and she smiled, appearing amused by my discomfort. “A trade. Well, now that is highly irregular. What is it you want from me?”

“Your tears,” Bronx replied.

The Virgin’s laughter was like the soft tinkling of fine china in a tea shop. “Oh, then I hate to disappoint you. We don’t cry. We don’t feel much of anything anymore, except maybe hunger.”

“So you’re not human any longer?” Bronx inquired. Between his conversations with Parker and now Aemilia, I was learning that Bronx was a very curious creature, as most questions made him sound as if he was studying the person under a microscope.

Aemilia gave a little shrug. “Not much.”

“Don’t worry. I can make you cry,” I said.

Her expression turned arctic cold when she looked over at me.

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