It’d already been abundantly clear how horrendous he felt when he’d returned to find her in Jakob’s arms after the attack. He could’ve cut the tension in the air with a goddamn knife, and it’d taken everything he had not to storm across the room and forcibly remove her from the assassin’s grasp. And so, he’d had forced himself to pretend. To act as though he cared not for the woman herself but only for the blood in her veins he’d rightfully claimed, and was glad she’d figured him out and played along when he’d pretended to summon her back to his side. Such a clever girl, even when in shock following her awful traumatic experience.
He was also pleased to see that Marcella had taken it upon herself to fulfil the role of protector for him. There was no better person for the job. He knew that now. No one he trusted with Wynter’s safekeeping more than his Priestess, and he vowed never to let himself feel jealous of her ever again.
His poor girl was curled in on herself protectively when he went to them. She had her head in the witch’s lap, and she looked so peaceful it made his heart ache harder.
Marcus joined the pair of them on the sofa, having opted to squeeze on it by Wynter’s side rather than take up one of the many other empty seats. He didn’t explain himself nor did he feel he had to, and the Priestess didn’t say a word. She was still shrouded, concealing her face, but he knew she wasn’t asleep. Like him, she never slept.
After a few minutes of silence Marcus reached down and lifted Wynter’s cold feet into his lap and frowned. Even in her fluffy pyjamas she was still frozen. She needed somewhere proper to sleep when she came to him. A bed with a warm blanket made up only for her. Just for his special slave.
He rubbed the warmth back into them and then sighed. It was time he found out exactly what had transpired that afternoon between her and David.
“Did he rape her?” he whispered into the silence.
“No, but he tried,” the Priestess answered. Marcus had thought as much, but he needed to know for sure. He had purposely put David in Wynter’s path, after all, and it had backfired. Yes, he was willing to claim responsibility for the plan going awry, but he also felt guilty—an emotion he hadn’t been plagued with ever since he could remember.
But the fact remained. Wynter had been attacked on his watch. She’d been hurt and would bear the bruises and marks of it for weeks to come, and Marcus wished he could take them away. Not only for her benefit, but also his own. He didn’t want to have to see them and be reminded of how he had failed her.
“Thank you,” he told his witch, and the Priestess said nothing in response. She knew what the appreciation was for. She had saved Wynter while he was off playing his power games with Warren. Teaching him a lesson he’d thought was entirely justified at the time, when he ought to have been taking care of the woman he had insisted stay there with him. The woman he cared for, whether he was willing to admit it or not.
“I have the perfect protector in mind for her, my lord,” the Priestess said, as though having read his mind about Wynter needing an official guard. Once again, they were on the same page.
“Don’t say a shifter,” he groaned, “we all know how frustrating they can be. And disloyal.” The Priestess laughed and shook her still cloaked head.
“No, my lord. I was thinking of a jinni. A powerful and loyal presence that can watch over her day and night, but someone Wynter wouldn’t even realise was there. And it just so happens I know where we can find one.”
A grin spread across Marcus’s face and he nodded to his impressive witch. With just that one suggestion she had outdone herself, and won back his favour. Jinn were notoriously reclusive and hard to command, but once someone was taken on as their charge, they were theirs and would protect their host until that person died, but then they were rewarded by being turned into one of their kind. It was either that, or the host was transformed into a vampire first, just like the Priestess had told him Wynter would be.
Their path, it seemed, was on course to that outcome like foretold. Marcus still didn’t feel comfortable merging, but that aversion was already waning somewhat. As if it were being replaced with another fear. The fear of losing her, or of someone defiling the perfect creature he so enjoyed moulding and grooming to be his flawless companion.
Whichever way it worked out, Marcus was beginning to accept that she was soon going to have to turn away from her human heritage and become one of the immortal elite. And it was worth it knowing she would be safe from any other harm and securely by his side once she transitioned.
Damn, was this actually going to happen? It sure seemed so.
The Priestess had been given the go ahead, and would undoubtedly have the jinni under her wing by dawn. She would see to it that he or she was delivered to the club without delay, and Wynter’s protection would be in place before her next shift was even over.
The deed would be done without his darling young woman ever even knowing it, and she would be under the ruthless creature’s magical protection from that moment onwards. And there would be no mercy for any creature who tried to come between a jinni and their charge. David’s fate was nothing to that of an execution by Jinn. They were renowned for their dark forms of justice, and an even darker sense of humour. They often decapitated their oppressors and stripped the flesh from their bones before mounting them on their walls like some kind of macabre décor.
One notorious feud had ended with an entire household of vampires being strung up and drained of blood before being left to rot within a magical cage no one but the jinni could enter. After a decade of starvation the patient captor had then relieved them of their skins and had them made into a leather chair, but yet he’d still refused to kill them. To this day, not a soul knew the rest of what’d happened to the family of vampires, but the story was an infamous lesson to any and all who dared make an enemy of a jinni.
This was going to be perfect.
Four
Wynter woke later that afternoon and, for a glorious moment, she forgot all about what had happened with David earlier that day. For just a few seconds, all was well, but then she shuffled on her pillow and felt the knees beneath it, reminding her of how she’d fallen asleep in the Priestess’s lap. And of course, she then remembered exactly why the strange witch had watched over her in the first place.
She turned her head to look up, expecting to see the same shrouded woman as before, but it wasn’t her. It was Marcus. He seemed thoughtful and was looking off in the distance, as if he hadn’t realised she’d awoken.
“Hey,” she croaked as she rubbed her eyes and sat up. She figured the best thing was actually to compose herself and keep her distance, so she went to move down towards the opposite end of the sofa, but Marcus evidently had other ideas. He reached out and grabbed her before she could move away and then pulled her to him and held her close, his intense blue eyes swallowing her whole.
“Good afternoon, Wynter,” he said with a smile, “I’ve enjoyed watching you sleep. It was very… peaceful.”
Wynter’s first instinct was to joke with him about being creepy, but she didn’t. She just smiled and thanked him. It was actually nice to know she hadn’t been left alone, even while she was out of it. Marcus and his Priestess had cared for her when she’d needed them most, and Wynter knew she wouldn’t forget it in a hurry.
His breath then suddenly hitched and Wynter peered back into his eyes. She figured he wasn’t used to having someone be genuinely happy to see him, and she shook her head.
“All these people who love you, and yet you’re surprised when I offer you some real warmth?” she asked timidly.
“I understand how my curse works. I also accept their affection because I know it isn’t real. But with you, everything is real. Often overwhelmingly so,” he groaned, but thankfully didn’t push her away. Wynter still needed the closeness. In fact, she wanted even more. Her body ached all over from David’s rough treatment, and she knew sex ought to be the last thing on her mind, yet she wanted Marcus to touch her. To make her feel g
ood again and, albeit rather strangely, as though she was still desirable and untainted in his eyes.
She placed a gentle kiss against his lips and arched her body against his, and Marcus reacted exactly the way she had hoped. He held her tighter and kissed her back, soft at first and then harder. His lips were so forceful they bruised hers. His hands pressed into her hips so hard she knew he’d leave marks. But she didn’t care. Unlike David’s bruises, she welcomed them, along with the silent promises she could feel his body making hers.
Damn, this was so confusing.
When she eventually pulled away and sucked deep lungful’s of air into her chest, it was no surprise to see Marcus’s eyes shining brightly from somewhere deep within him. They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen and Wynter knew she ought not to be drawn to that shining beacon calling to her from inside of him, but couldn’t help herself. She was meant to be following him to that woman in her apparition, not letting her soul merge with his. She was meant to be keeping a safe distance. And yet, all she wanted in that moment was for him to love her. To share his life with her, and his soul.
“Tell me what you want, Marcus,” she croaked, “tell me what you need.”
“I want you,” he answered her, and pulled her closer still, “I need you.”
Wynter thought about ripping off her clothes and throwing herself at his mercy. She had stayed away from having any real sex all week, but now all she could think about was having him inside of her. She yearned for it like an addict, but something still told her it was no use. He wasn’t going to give her it, no matter what he truly wanted.
And he’d called her the fighter in their little tête-à-tête.
Before he even said another word, the shutters went down. Marcus retreated back into his usual cold shell and Wynter shuddered against the sudden chill that swept over the room.
She didn’t need telling no. In fact, she didn’t want to hear it at all, and so she climbed up out of Marcus’s lap and walked over to the bathroom without another word.
Inside, she threw her pyjamas in the wash basket and climbed straight into the shower. Wynter turned up the heat and got to work on her wash routine, all the while telling herself it was better this way. She would remain free as long as he kept her at arms length and that was still the ultimate goal. To keep hold of the freedom she had fought so hard to get back until she could get away from him completely.
After rinsing the last of the conditioner from her hair, Wynter finally opened her eyes and looked down at herself. It took a minute for her to take in the damage and attempt to get her head around what she was seeing. The bruises had now had time to develop. Her wrists were littered with cuts and were both purple where David had held them while he’d forced his kisses on her. Her legs had huge bruises on them too from where he’d thrown her down on the ground and wrenched them apart, and Wynter screwed her eyes shut, trying to force away the memory of her kicking and fighting him as he held her down and tried to force himself on her.
But it was no use. The memory was too fresh. The feeling of his hands roughing her up too real. Her pain too present. It was all just far too powerful to overcome.
Her knees hit the shower floor first, and Wynter let herself tumble down onto the ground without a care for the extra bruises it might cause. She felt lost and afraid all over again, and let her tears flow. The world was suddenly no longer full of any hope or wonder like before, but an awful place and she knew there was no good left. There was nothing left to fight for.
She’d clung to her strength for so long, but the Priestess was right.
It was all a lie.
She wasn’t strong.
Nothing was right.
She was alone and unloved.
Wynter didn’t move. She just sat there and continued to cry her heart out, even when she was enveloped from behind and pulled into the strong arms of the vampire she knew would always hold her, even if he couldn’t bring himself to properly love her.
Marcus was still fully clothed and his wet shirt clung to his chest as Wynter nestled herself against him, turning see-through. She started unbuttoning it, but he shook his head no. “I want you, Wynter, but not like this,” he whispered, “I told you before, you’re here to feed me. The rest is none of my business.”
She saw red.
Wynter pushed herself out of his hold and clambered to her feet. She didn’t care that she was naked, all she wanted was to get away. On wobbling legs, she grabbed a towel and then ran for the door, leaving Marcus still sitting beneath the cascading water.
She made it to the lift and threw herself inside the second it opened, and thought for a moment she was going to get away unscathed, but then Marcus appeared and shoved his hand between the doors and forced them back open. He was dripping wet but didn’t seem to care. Like her, he was clearly fraught and his emotions were all over the place. Wynter could read him that well at least.
He looked a wreck, but he was also raging, and she pressed herself against the back wall of the elevator in absolute fear.
“I never thought I’d say this, but you win, Marcus,” she then sighed dejectedly, “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again. You can feed and then I’ll leave to recuperate alone rather than let myself get even more confused by your mixed signals. These emotions within me aren’t real, or at least you keep telling me so, and I’m finally learning not to trust my heart, but my head. I can’t stand it any longer. I can’t want you when all you want me for is my blood.”
Wynter then looked up over his shoulder and saw the clock on the wall turn to six-pm. Her overtime shift was done. Their time was up. He knew it too and took a step back so that the lift doors could close at last, his eyes on hers the entire time, yet he didn’t say a word. Marcus didn’t even try to fight her on any of it, and she was left wondering if he’d ever actually cared at all.
***
The second Wynter was gone, Marcus unleashed his rage upon everything within his reach. He told himself it was for the better, but the pain and anguish resonating through him said otherwise. Why couldn’t he just accept her? What was wrong with him to make him force her away like he repeatedly did? There were others who readily accepted love into their lives, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say yes to her when she begged for him to love her. There was no reason why he shouldn’t take her, and yet he’d let her go thinking he didn’t care again, just like all the other times.
He couldn’t fathom why he was so averse to letting their souls merge, but figured it was a power thing. To give part of himself over was a fate worse than death for a control freak such as he. And so, once again, he had pushed Wynter away. Told her no. Let her believe he didn’t care for her. All he’d done was watch as she disappeared out of sight, rather than stop her. Rather than tell her he did care and wanted to love her, but was scared.
And there it was. The true reason—he was scared.
That realisation only angered him further and Marcus picked up the nearest thing to him, a lamp, and hurtled it towards the glass wall that had until that second served as a partition to his top floor office. It shattered with ease and Marcus didn’t stop there.
He trashed the entire room. Ripped apart the sofa that still smelled of Wynter. Emptied the drawers of her new clothes and shredded them. Broke apart his huge wooden desk where she had perched naked before him and shattered it into a thousand pieces.
So, this was what it felt like to win?
He couldn’t think of anything worse.
Five
Wynter had never been so grateful for her stash of essential supplies before in her entire life. She had the spare clothes hanging in her office closet, and had even brought underwear and shoes in on the off chance she might need them. And now she needed them desperately. There was no hairdryer so she had to leave her dark hair to dry in waves, but it wasn’t the end of the world and she made a mental note to bring in a spare for next time. Everything else was readily to hand in her gloriously private offic
e and it wasn’t long before she was dressed up, made up, and ready to start her usual night’s work.
All was well, on the outside at least. Underneath the façade, she was a right royal fucking mess. What the hell else was new? She contemplated, but then forced all of her emotions, anxieties and pain away. She went back to adopting her utter coldness and fired up her computer before then busying herself with the usual admin of answering emails and moderating the website boards while updating each of their private sites.
Immersing herself in work was bliss. It worked a treat to distract her from the wreck of a life she had created for herself. After all, who needed therapy when you had procrastination and denial?
Hunger pains were soon niggling in her gut though and after a couple of hours’ spent working solidly, she gave into them and poked her head out of her office door, checking to see whether the coast was clear.
There were workmen outside in the hallway though. They were heading up and down in the lift to Marcus’s office and Wynter frowned. What on Earth were they up to?
She stepped out, locking the door behind her, and then approached one of the men.
“Hey, what’s going on upstairs?” she asked with a gentle smile.
“Mr Cole has asked us to redecorate his office,” he answered, and was about to head back into the lift when Wynter put her hand on his arm.
“I have some things up there. Would it be okay if I came up and grabbed them?” she asked, thinking of her clothes and her handbag that was still in Marcus’s office from when she’d been down to get them that morning before running into David—someone she didn’t want to be thinking about right now though so forced that thought away.
Round Two Page 4
