Blood Heart

by Lexi C. Foss

  “I don’t want you to take other partners, Lizzie. With or without me, the notion of another man touching you is enough to drive me mad, something I can honestly say has never been an issue for me.” He let go of her completely to take a step back, both of his hands going to his hair as he paced in front of her.

  “I don’t want to share you, either,” she said quietly. “It hurts when you flirt with other women. A lot.”

  Her gaze fell to the sand as her shoulders hunched, indicating that those words were not an easy admission. But they were words he needed to hear.

  Jayson developed his charming candor with females over the centuries with the primary purpose of attracting them to his bed. It came so naturally to him now that he didn’t even think about it, he just acted. And it clearly hurt Lizzie.

  He cupped her cheeks to tilt her head upward again and swallowed hard at the pain radiating from her beautiful eyes. “You were right,” he murmured. “I am a jerk.”

  She started to shake her head, but he stopped her response with a brush of his lips against hers.

  “I thought my firsts were well and truly in the past, but this—us—is definitely brand new to me.” His fingers slipped into her hair as he pressed his forehead to hers.

  “You make me want to try something different, Red. Something I’ve never considered before. But it’s going to take patience and time because my habits are very old, and I’ll need you to tell me when I’m hurting you, just like you did tonight. Can you do that, Lizzie? Can you be honest and tell me when I’m doing something that wounds you?”

  The begging quality to his voice was one he didn’t hear often, but Lizzie brought out a side of him he rarely allowed anyone to see. He considered it his weakest link, but also his greatest strength.

  His heart.

  He wouldn’t say he loved her—they didn’t know each other well enough for that—but he could see the potential to love her. She touched him in a way few ever had, and every part of him itched to stake his claim.

  Mine.

  A natural drive he rarely felt around a woman, but Lizzie caressed every possessive instinct he owned. The dominant in him understood patience, while the soul in him recognized his potential mate.

  Lizzie licked her lips and parted them twice before replying, “I can call you a jerk when I need to.”

  He grinned. “Yeah?”

  She nodded, her lips curling. “Maybe an asshole too.”

  He pulled back in mock surprise. “Did you just curse?”

  “I curse. Sometimes. When it’s warranted.” Her brow came down. “My mother always said people used bad words when they couldn’t think of anything more intelligent to say.”

  “Yeah, well, your mother’s a fucking bitch, so I think I’ll ignore that ineloquent deduction.”

  Lizzie laughed. “You say that like you know my mom.”

  “I may not have met the woman, but I watched her with you at brunch that day, and my summary is more than accurate. It took considerable effort not to throw her through the window.”

  Lizzie’s eyes rounded. “You were at brunch?”

  “Hormonal drinks, remember?” he prompted. “Speaking of which, we should probably eat our now-cold food. Unless you’re still not hungry?” He cocked a brow, daring her to deny her need for sustenance. If she claimed not to be famished, his ego would be wounded.

  Fortunately, she nodded in agreement. “Dinner.” She gazed up at him through her lashes as she added, “Followed by dessert.”

  “As if that was ever a question,” he murmured against her lips. “And tomorrow we’ll have breakfast in bed.”

  Lizzie’s lips curled into an impish smile. “I think I like the sound of that.”

  21

  Let’s Play a Game

  Benefactor has requested his associate be allowed to taste the subject for tracking purposes. A supervised visit will need to be arranged.

  —Entry Log 107.11.4-7

  Two weeks of sex and sun looked good on Lizzie. Her cheeks held a healthy glow, her eyes shone with the secrets Jayson had taught her, and her lips seemed perpetually curled into a smile. The lingerie helped with the latter.

  She clipped her silk stockings into the garters and adjusted her cleavage in the lacy top. Jayson had given her a tutorial last week on how to wear all the fancy French garments, and she’d enjoyed taunting him with that knowledge ever since.

  Lizzie adored fashion. This newfound obsession with lace would not go away anytime soon. She loved how each set was strategically placed to appear revealing without actually showing anything truly intimate. And even more, she enjoyed Jayson’s reactions.

  Another once-over in the mirror produced an even bigger grin on her face.

  Perfection.

  A confidence boost was among the gifts Jayson had given her these last few weeks. After so many hours naked in his presence, it seemed silly to hide.

  And the way he looked at her when she dressed up for him like this? Worth every ounce of hesitation.

  She sauntered into the bedroom to wait for Jayson. He’d drawn her a bath in the oversized tub before venturing off to the market to procure some fresh fruit for the room, but she expected him to return any minute now.

  Lizzie poured herself a glass of wine and admired the calmness of the waves. Jayson remarked last night that it reminded him a bit of home, something she took as a subtle sign that he wanted to return to Hydria soon.

  Luc had visited twice, briefly each time, to ask a barrage of personal questions—similar to a physician—and to take more samples. She didn’t really enjoy being his personal test subject, but she also wanted answers, so she allowed it.

  Deep down, though, she knew if she really desired the truth, she needed to leave Bora Bora. The selfish side of her scoffed at the idea, while the part of her who adored Jayson dwelt on the unfairness of forcing him to stay here. Not that he seemed to mind, because he— “Well, that’s a sight to behold.”

  Goose bumps scattered down her spine at the familiar voice behind her. It came from a man she never expected to see again.

  She swallowed her nerves as she turned to meet a pair of amused brown eyes. All his fatherly appeal seemed to be replaced by a man she barely recognized. The way his gaze danced over her in an appreciative manner stirred up bile in the pit of her stomach.

  “Doctor Fitzgerald,” she managed.

  “Come now, Lizzie, I think you can call me John while dressed like that.” He gestured to the armed blond beside him. “You remember Stark, yes?”

  She tried to nod but couldn’t. Not with the way both men had her cornered by the water. She could jump, but where would she go? To the beach? Her dancer’s legs didn’t translate well in the water, not to mention her lacy undergarments would weigh her down. The two men would either catch her or beat her to the sand.

  And they probably weren’t alone, either.

  “Shall we go?” Stark asked, his voice bored. He hadn’t bothered to glance at her or her seductive attire, something she felt minutely grateful for, especially with the manner in which John kept glancing at her breasts and legs.

  Twenty-four years and he always treated her like a daughter. But it was all a lie, and she could see that in his lecherous gaze.

  “Not yet.” John closed the gap between them. He fingered a strand of her hair as he asked, “Would you care to change before we go?” Innocently worded and belittled by the smolder in his gaze.

  Lizzie always wondered why John appeared no older than thirty-five, but now she knew it was a result of his Ichorian bloodline. “I would,” she admitted, unable to lie. From what she understood, he excelled at forcing the truth out of people, and it was no different with her.

  “Please do,” he gestured to the suitcase. “You’ll understand why it has to be in front of us, though. I already lost you once and can’t afford for it to happen again. You’re an expensive investment, after all.”

  She shivered at the bluntness of his words. “What do you mean?”<
br />
  “We’ll discuss it along the way,” he replied. “You have two minutes to change. I suggest you use the time wisely.”

  Lizzie considered telling him to go to hell but opted for sense instead. She couldn’t try to run in this outfit without garnering a lot of attention. Jean shorts, a tank top, and tennis shoes would be far more appropriate.

  A snakelike sensation crawled over her skin as he supervised her removal of the garter belt and stockings. Stark still didn’t acknowledge her but focused on the perimeter.

  Scanning for Jayson.

  If she could find a way to delay their departure, maybe he would return in time to kick John’s ass.

  Lizzie finished her show of dressing by pulling a tank top over her head and folded her arms to hide herself from John’s view. She’d managed to keep the important bits covered, but his grin said it didn’t matter.

  This John—despite the similar features—resembled a stranger and left her feeling cold, used, and inadequate.

  She shivered as his smile grew.

  “I think we should play a game and find out just how far this infatuation goes,” he mused. “Would you like that, Lizzie? To learn Jay’s true feelings?”

  “Do we have time for that, sir?” Stark asked, an edge to his tone that wasn’t reflected in his bored expression.

  “Of course. Why else did we come prepared?”

  “Because we assumed he would be here, sir.”

  “And I suspect he will be any moment now.” John touched his ear. “Any sign of the Elder?” He nodded at whatever the person on the other side of his communication unit was saying. “Excellent.” He glanced at Stark. “I told you Patel’s gadgets would work.”

  The Sentinel shrugged one shoulder as he drew a gun. “We won’t know for sure until he enters.”

  “Fair enough.” Dark chocolate eyes met hers. “Be a dear and come stand by me, please.” So politely worded and perfectly John.

  And yet, everything between them had changed.

  This man was a monster—an Ichorian—who founded an organization meant to hunt other immortals. And he’d done something to her, though no one knew what. Then there were the things Jayson had told her about Tom and a Hydraian named Amelia.

  Lizzie would never trust Jonathan Fitzgerald again. And she certainly didn’t want him to touch her.

  “No,” she replied, surprising herself and him. Years of elegance training kept her hospitable even in the most uncomfortable situations, but no more. What did she have to lose? He’d already implied she was an ‘expensive investment.’ That meant he wouldn’t kill her, right?

  “Sir,” Stark murmured.

  “I heard it,” John replied as he stepped toward Lizzie. She started to back up out of his reach, not that she would get far on the deck, unless she jumped— She fell to her knees as something sharp smacked her upside the head. Right above her ear. It throbbed and distorted the room.

  An arm around her torso yanked her up against a hard body as something razor sharp pressed into her neck.

  “Careful, sir, or the benefactor will not be pleased,” Stark remarked, voice cold and void of feeling. He could have been talking about the weather for all he seemed to care.

  “You let me worry about that.” John’s response came from behind her, confirming he’d been the one to smack and grab her.

  Had he hit her with the blunt edge of the blade pressed to her throat?

  “Try not to move, Lizzie. This isn’t your average knife.” He sounded amused by that, and she could think of only one reason why.

  It’s not made of metal.

  She tried to focus on the firearm in Stark’s hand, but it wavered in and out of her vision. The tears collecting in her eyes didn’t help matters.

  John shifted to place his back to a wall while holding Lizzie in front of him. The arm around her waist reminded her of a contracting band as he squeezed the air from her lungs. A whimper escaped Lizzie’s throat, which resulted in a chuckle from her captor.

  “That’s for forgetting your manners,” he murmured against her ear.

  She had no idea he could be this cruel. Hearing about it from Jayson and seeing it were two very different experiences. No wonder Tom had faked his death. From her understanding, John didn’t know. He also thought Amelia was dead. If only she could escape in a similar manner.

  “I found those baby bananas you love, Red,” Jayson announced as he entered the suite.

  Lizzie opened her mouth to respond, but John’s constricting arm warned her not to while Stark positioned himself defensively beside them.

  Silence followed, suggesting Jayson suspected the disturbance.

  “By now you’ve sensed our weapons are not of the traditional variety,” John said by way of greeting. “But trust me when I say they are just as deadly.”

  Bags rustled against the ground before Jayson stepped around the corner empty-handed. He didn’t look at Lizzie but focused on the man behind her. “Hello, Jonathan.”

  “Jayson,” he greeted back. “I wouldn’t come any closer unless you want to see what a diamond-encrusted ceramic knife can do against skin.”

  Jayson lifted his hands in surrender, his expression expertly blank. “You have my undivided attention.”

  “Do I?” John mused. “Excellent. I was just suggesting a game to Lizzie. Would you care to play?”

  “Depends on the parameters.” Jayson folded his arms. “What did you have in mind?”

  “It’s simple, actually. You see, that gun”—he gestured to the one Stark had pointed at Jayson—“is filled with glass incendiary bullets. A new technology we devised specifically with you in mind. Your penchant for metal is a tricky one.”

  Lizzie trembled. Jayson told her the purpose for incendiary bullets. They set the blood on fire, thereby permanently killing immortals. Yet he merely yawned and waved his hand in a gesture to continue. “Go on.”

  “Well, the threat is clear, yes? But I’m willing to give you a choice. Consider it a way of respecting my Elders.” The grin in his voice didn’t seem to entertain Jayson at all. If anything, he looked about as bored as Stark.

  Did he call Jacque for backup? Lizzie wondered. She tried to catch his gaze, but he remained fixated on the one behind her. John shifted his hold, raising his arm to cross her breasts instead of her waist, and she cringed at the intimate touch, but the knife at her throat kept her in place. At least her vision had cleared.

  “Get to the point, Jonathan,” Jayson demanded, his calm veneer cracking.

  “I’ll allow you to leave, unharmed, if you go now without Lizzie.”

  “Or?” Jayson prompted.

  “Or Stark kills you.”

  “I’m not a fan of either option,” Jayson drawled. “Surely you can be more creative than forcing me to choose myself over Lizzie.”

  “I admit, I assumed the choice to leave would be obvious.”

  “The last time an Elder trusted you, you shot him. I won’t be making the same mistake.”

  John tsked. “Now, now, let’s not live in the past. Not when we have a future to discuss.” His fingers danced along Lizzie’s arms, causing her stomach to churn. “All right, the third option is to let Stark collar you. It thwarts a fight and allows you to stay with Lizzie.”

  Her eyes widened. Jayson had mentioned the device that controlled Amelia. “No, Jayson—” The blade bit into her skin, silencing her instantly.

  “Your betters are talking, Lizzie. It’s rude to interrupt.” He squeezed her again, hard enough to draw out another whimper. “You broke my product, Jayson. I have to say, I’m displeased.”

  “I’d argue I improved it,” Jayson replied, his voice underlined with emotion. “I accept option three.”

  John stilled behind her. “The collar?”

  “Yes.” No hesitation, and he still refused to look at her. If he did, he would have seen her imploring him not to do this. Not for her. Not ever. There would be another way. There had to be.

  “Truly?” John s
ounded surprised. “For her?”

  “Yes.”

  “First Issac. Now, the renowned Jedrick of Babylon?” John laughed humorlessly. “The world must be coming to an end.”

  Jayson cocked a brow. “Are we done playing this game?”

  John chuckled. “Sure. Be a good Elder and kneel for Stark.”

  “Don’t!” Lizzie shouted, unable to hold it in anymore. She tried to say more, but the air whooshed from her lungs as John crushed her with his arm. Her ribs and chest ached at the show of strength as her heart shattered in two at the sight of Jayson going to his knees with his hands loosely at his sides.

  Still he wouldn’t look at her, but she caught the tension in his jaw. He was holding back. For what, she didn’t know.

  You’d better have a plan, she thought as black dots danced over her vision.

  “Really, Lizzie,” John chastised. “You’re acting like a child.”

  And you’re acting like a dick.

  Stark pulled a collar from his pocket and stepped forward to wrap it around Jayson’s neck. It sealed with a snick that seemed to ricochet through the room. He didn’t move from his submissive pose even as the Sentinel backed away.

  “Well, that worked out better than I expected.” John sounded quite pleased as he finally loosened his hold enough for Lizzie to breathe. It struck her as odd that she hadn’t passed out despite the darkness lurking in her gaze, but she didn’t have time to think about it.

  “I say we play one more round of truth,” the monster behind her murmured. “Stark, send the text.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jayson finally looked up from the floor. “This isn’t good enough for you?”

  “Hardly,” John scoffed. “There’s a loose end that needs addressing.”

  “It’s done,” Stark informed. “I suspect we will know within minutes if your hunch is right.”

  As he said it, a buzzing sounded from Jayson’s pocket.

  “That would be your phone, I imagine,” John surmised. “Let it ring.”