His smirk widens. “Come on, Red. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“You couldn’t offer me anything—”
“I’ll double your salary,” he cuts in.
My brows shoot up my forehead. I immediately start thinking about what I could do with that much money. All the places I could visit or even live for a while. Damn. I wish it wasn’t as tempting as it is. “You . . . you’re that confident you’ll get me into bed?”
He licks his lips. “I think you know the answer to that.”
“This is crazy,” I mutter, resisting the urge to fan my warming face with my napkin.
“Why? Think of it like this: either way, you win. If you somehow—by an incredible feat of restraint and celibacy—you resist me for the remainder of your time in my employment, you get double the amount of money you were expecting to make on this job. And if you cave and give into your desires, you get the best night of your life.”
I blink at him in disbelief, but the promise he’s serving me on a silver platter has heat gathering between my legs, threatening to betray me. “You are far too confident in your ability to seduce me,” I force out.
He lowers his gaze, looking at me with clear intent. “Or am I just confident enough?” When I don’t respond, he chuckles, tipping his head back. “So, what do you say?”
“I’ve already said it: you’re crazy.”
Jackson purses his lips. “That has yet to be scientifically proven. Yes or no, Red?”
My eyes narrow sharply. “I don’t play games, Jackson. Your life depends on how focused I am on my job. You understand that, right?”
“I understand perfectly. It’s just boring as hell.”
“Your survival?” I challenge.
He blows out a breath, pushing his fingers through his hair and letting it fall across his forehead. “Who wants to just survive? That’s so dull. We have eternity. Why not keep things interesting?”
I cross and then uncross my arms before sighing. “Fine.” I shove my hand toward him to shake on this ridiculous deal we’re making.
His grin is slow, predatory, and it gives me the urge to shift away, but I keep my feet planted where they are. I remain still even as he slides his hand into mine, sparking the electricity in my nerves and lighting my cheeks and neck on fire.
“I’m looking forward to this challenge of ours,” he murmurs, dipping his face closer.
My eyes dart to his mouth, mere inches from mine, before they snap back to his eyes. I could get lost there. Too easily. I blink hard. “I look forward to making bank on this.”
Jackson slides his fingers up to my wrist and presses them against my pulse. “Hmm,” he hums, “your heart rate seems to disagree.”
I snatch my arm back and move away from him. “It’s fine,” I mutter, making up a conveniently valid excuse to make rounds through the property and check with the perimeter guards. There are enough of them surrounding the premises to ensure Jackson is safe from his enemies, even without my added protection.
However, one question remains.
Am I safe from Jackson?
Chapter 9
I’ve worked as Jackson’s protective detail for a few weeks, and he’s still alive, so I’m feeling pretty confident with my protective skills. And my restraint.
We’ve settled into somewhat of a routine, and I’ve come to terms with the fact that he is the biggest tease I’ve ever met. I do my best to keep my distance while staying close enough to ensure his safety when we’re outside the house. It’s a very delicate balance, and some days are more difficult than others.
Especially when, out of nowhere, I get the strong urge to throw him against a wall and kiss him until he can’t speak. Though that may be because I desperately want him to shut up more so than I want him—period.
I am not going to lose this ridiculous bet we have.
There have been a few times where I thought Jackson would forget the bet and stop trying to take me to bed.
Sometimes, I think he wants me to believe he’s given up trying to seduce me, in hopes it will lure me into surrendering and initiating something between us. No way. Once my mind’s made up, there is no alternative. I’m going to win this. All I have to do is resist his advances until my assignment is up.
“Daydreaming about getting underneath me again?” Jackson’s voice is close. Far too close to keep my pulse at a normal pace.
I whip around, and he’s right there. Our noses almost touch. “Back off,” I warn in a low voice, struggling to ignore the eucalyptus and mint invading my senses.
He smirks. “What? Worried you won’t be able to resist me up this close?”
My eyes narrow. “Because I, unlike you apparently, appreciate personal space.” God, why does he smell so good? It’s not fair.
“Yeah . . . there’s no fun in that.” He wets his lips. “Though, that’s not always true, is it?”
I arch a brow. “Is that some lame attempt at a joke about that night we masturbated to each other?” I’m not too shy that I won’t say it, especially to call him out on a poorly executed attempt at humor.
His eyes light up with amusement. “So crass.”
I shrug, forcing a neutral tone. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with finding pleasure in oneself.”
“Oh, I completely agree.”
“Great. Can we move on? We’ve got a busy day.”
He frowns. “Do we have to? We were having so much fun.”
“You and I have very different ideas of fun, Jax.”
He leans in, and when I try to shift back, I hit the counter. “Really? I don’t think that’s all true. I’m confident we could have fun together. Many, many times.”
I swallow hard and put on a blank face as I lean toward him. Very slowly, I lift my hand, trailing it up his arm until I reach his neck. Leaning closer, I inhale and let out a soft sigh, letting my lips graze his throat.
His response is immediate and crystal clear. His body stiffens as his pulse races, heart pounding, and I can practically feel his blood boiling.
“Mmm,” I say, “That money is mine.” Without another word, I step around him and head toward the stairs to my room to finish getting ready.
The second my door is closed, I fall against it and exhale heavily, attempting to catch my breath. I don’t want to admit that little stunt I pulled downstairs affected me as much as it did Jackson, but the pounding in my chest is determined to make a liar out of me.
I spend the afternoon with Jackson in his office. I lounge on the couch while he sits behind his desk, typing away on his computer. I flip through incident reports sent through by the security team down the hall. The main thing they’re concerned about right now is chatter in parts of the fae community.
I haven’t heard anything firsthand—perks of essentially being locked away in a mansion for the last three weeks—but fae are talking. Murmurs about Jackson being a shady businessman. Stealing from the desperate and being just as bad as The Experiment for suggesting that fae shouldn’t want immortality. Some of it really doesn’t make sense, considering Jackson is by no means forcing the treatment on anyone. His business comes entirely through word of mouth, and fae searching him out and flocking to him from across the globe. He can’t exactly put an advertisement for the procedure in the local paper.
I debate whether or not to bring it up to him, but I figure he has to know. His business isn’t exactly helping puppies find their forever homes or curing cancer. And after knowing him for a while now, something tells me gossip like this wouldn’t bother him. Jackson is the furthest thing from self-conscious there is.
I start writing an email to Nik, requesting an update on Skylar’s travels and asking if he’s heard anything from Seth. I still haven’t and I’m hesitant to reach out. He obviously still needs time to heal and move on after the battle, and I completely understand his staying away from Rockdale. But god, I miss him. I don’t think that pit in my stomach will go away until he comes home.
My ey
es drift up from my computer screen when Jackson sighs and leans back in his chair, propping his hands on the back of his head.
“Keeping out of trouble over there?” I ask him, my eyes trailing the tight muscles in his arms, admiring how good they look in his baby blue dress shirt.
He throws me an easygoing grin. “Cross my heart and hope to—well, eternity sort of ruins the last part.” He shrugs, then nods at my laptop. “Whatcha up to?”
I hit send on my email and sigh. “Not too much. Reading reports from your team and sending emails.”
Jackson frowns. “Sounds boring.”
Nodding, I say, “It’s the job.”
“Speaking of,” he gets up and walks around the desk, approaching the couch, then leans against the arm at the other end. “I thought you might want to watch today.”
“Watch?” I ask—and then it hits me. There’s a procedure this afternoon. He’s offering to let me oversee it. “Oh, um, I don’t know.”
“Come on. It’s pretty cool to see in action.”
I chew my bottom lip, considering it. I have to admit, I’ve been curious about the procedure since Tristan and Aurora underwent it, but I’ve never asked for details. I’m not sure how much they recall and I don’t want to bring it up for fear of upsetting them—especially considering the forced, violent way Aurora became human again at the hands of those behind The Experiment.
“There’s a viewing room. I’ll sit with you if you want,” he says, as if he believes that will make me more likely to agree, as if his presence will be a comfort.
I don’t want to admit that it just might.
Jackson doesn’t perform the procedures himself; he just runs the business that profits off those who do. Yes, he pays them very well to do so, but he mostly meets with clients and family members to explain the process and sign paperwork.
I take a deep breath and blow it out. “When is it?”
He glances at the designer Rolex around his wrist. “Thirty minutes.”
My pulse spikes, like I’ve already committed to observing.
Jackson’s soft smile tells me he heard it. “It’s nothing to fret over,” he assures me. “If you get in there and decide you don’t want to hang around, cool. We’ll leave. I just figured it would kill some time. I know this job isn’t always the most exciting.”
I purse my lips. He’s not wrong. “Yeah,” I finally say, curiosity winning out over my nerves. “Okay, I’ll watch.”
“Great. Then we can grab lunch. I’m thinking sushi.”
My stomach grumbles at the very mention. Damn. The guy knows how to win over his audience. At least in this regard. “Fine, but you’re buying.”
“If I’m buying, then it’s a date,” he challenges.
I narrow my gaze on him. “Not a chance.” A date would definitely be in breach of our bet. I’m not losing on a technicality.
He groans. “You are so difficult, Red.”
“Yes, I am.” I close my laptop. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”
We walk to the door, and Jackson holds it open for me. I murmur a quick thanks and step into the hallway. My shoes are soft on the hardwood, but my heart beats loudly. My pulse races faster the closer we get to the procedure room, and I stop a few feet away.
Why am I so nervous?
When my head starts spinning, I lean against the wall and take a deep breath. Maybe I shouldn’t do this. Every other time Jackson’s observed a procedure, I’ve discreetly asked one of the other guards to accompany him.
Jackson reaches for me, cupping my elbow to steady me. “You’re okay,” he encourages.
“I don’t . . .” My voice trails off when my mouth goes dry. I don’t want to see anyone die. Anyone else die. That’s it. I’m so scared the fae won’t make it through the procedure and I’ll be forced to witness yet another death. Between the massacre that shredded my human life to nothing, and the battle with The Experiment, I’ve seen enough death to last an eternity.
“It’ll be fine, Red.”
“You can’t promise that,” I whisper, panic crackling through me like a live wire.
He frowns at me. “No, I can’t. But the odds are decent.” He sighs. “You don’t have to watch, but I think it would be beneficial to see the work we’re doing here.”
I exhale slowly, finally saying, “Okay.”
Jackson smiles and points to another door down the hall a bit farther. “There’s a staircase behind that door that will take you to the observation room. I have to go meet with the client before we start, but I’ll meet you up there in a few minutes.”
The client appointments aren’t something I sit in on. I stand just outside the room and listen closely in case I’m needed. But Jackson’s clients deserve privacy and confidentiality, so I stay out of sight.
I shove my hands in the pants of my jumpsuit and nod.
His eyes study my face before he turns and walks in the other direction, stopping at the door that leads to the reception area.
I swipe my badge and open the door, walking up the stairs into the small room. It’s empty save for three chairs and a coffee table. I flip the light on, and my eyes immediately go to the giant window a few feet away. It takes up almost the entire wall and looks down on the procedure room. There are a few people in black scrubs moving around the room, prepping it for the procedure.
I take a seat in the middle chair, and a few minutes later, the twins—Shannon and Emma—wheel in a bed with a young-looking female. She’s in normal clothes, as opposed to the hospital gown I assumed she’d be wearing, and her aura is bright orange with nervous excitement.
The fae in the room chat with her, explaining the process again even though Jackson would’ve just gone over it with her. They show her the vials of serum they’re going to use, then check to make sure she doesn’t have any questions before they start. Despite the thick glass separating the rooms, I can hear the conversation clearly.
I’m so focused on the scene below, I don’t hear Jackson slip into the room. I jump a little when he sits beside me.
“Easy there, Red. It’s just me.”
I let out my breath, clenching and unclenching my hands in my lap.
“Damn, Kels. Your energy is way too dark and twisty right now. You wanna hold my hand?”
Sucking in a shallow breath, I quickly throw the walls around my emotions back up. I hadn’t even realized my aura was on display. “You wish,” I mutter, staring forward. I’ve gotten used to keeping my feelings under wraps. Part of my role is to keep things under control, and if my aura is showing, that could potentially make things tricky at times. As much as I’d prefer not to have to put in the effort to shield it, it comes with the job.
He whistles under his breath. “Grouch.”
“Bite me,” I shoot back, though the harshness is all but gone from my tone. This back and forth banter is regrettably entertaining.
“Oh, you’d like that.” He leans in until I can feel his breath on my cheek. “Far more than you’d like to admit, I suspect.”
“You’re a detective now? Good to know.”
He chuckles. “I never took you for the smartass type.”
That’s because I’m not. It flares up in his presence, though. Annoyingly enough, he does have an effect on me. As much as I wish he didn’t.
“We’re all good down here,” one of the fae calls up to Jackson through a speaker in the wall behind us.
He turns his face away from me and presses a button on the speaker to respond. “Go ahead and begin when she’s ready.”
The fae girl nods, forcing a smile and closing her eyes, and the others get to work. One of them lines up the syringes, filled with blue and purple serums, while two others strap the girl to the bed. I’ve never asked what exactly is in the serum, and I have a feeling asking Jackson would be useless. I’d bet that his answer would be as intelligent as I don’t know. Science? He might run this show, but it’s the people in the room below us that make it happen.
Tran
sitioning from fae to human, while complex when it comes to the science, is fairly simple on a procedural level—granted it works. One serum is injected, then the other. It causes immeasurable agony. The subject oftentimes passes out from the pain—and occasionally doesn’t wake up.
Emma explained the procedure to me during my first week here, as standard protocol for any new employee. The client is injected with DNA splicing elixirs. One breaks down the fae magic running through their veins, while another wipes it out. The last mixture mends the strands of unrelated DNA that might have been damaged during the first part of the process. Lastly, the client undergoes a complete blood transfusion from a human donor to remove any remnants of fae magic and further the healing part of the procedure. It makes my head spin if I think about it for too long.
When Shannon turns to the tray of syringes and picks up the one with clear contents, I turn to Jackson. “What is that?” I don’t remember a clear elixir being part of the process Emma told me.
“A very potent painkiller. Basically jacked-up morphine. As you know, the procedure isn’t exactly pleasant, so we do our best to make the client comfortable.”
I turn back to continue watching. “Oh.”
The entire procedure takes about thirty minutes. The client manages to stay conscious throughout, but her face is as white as the sheets she’s on and her heart is beating so fast she’s broken out in a sweat. Her aura, strong and vibrant at the start, has faded measurably, exhaustion leeching the energy from her quicker than any fae could.
I’m exhausted just watching it unfold in the room below, and I’ve never been so grateful for Jackson to speak as when he says, “It’s over. Looks like she did well.”
I glance at him and nod, then look down at the girl. Her eyes are closed, but her chest is rising and falling evenly. I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “What happens now?”
“They’ll give her more painkillers and take her to the recovery suite until she’s completely through it. It’ll take a few hours to work through her system, but the worst is over. We’ve been working on the serums since the start of this practice and have made great progress with streamlining the transition and shortening the recovery time.”
Twisted Devotion: A Fae Paranormal Romance Page 7
