by Mara Lee
Xethre was unaware of the scowl that graced his handsome face as the unwanted memories assailed him. He hadn’t thought of novice Catherine in over fifty years, why now? Perhaps it was because he saw in Sheridan the same spark he had seen in Catherine? Could that be it? No. Catherine had been wild and defiant. She had also been impetuous and lacked the true purity he sensed in Sheridan. Sheridan Duskul was pure. He could sense nothing but purity lingering there. But she did have a spark, a beautiful spark. He sensed that too.
“You finished already?”
Sheridan’s sweet voice jerked him out of his reverie. “Pardon?”
Sheridan waved to his empty plate. “Wow, you ate fast.”
Xethre nodded. “I guess I was hungry.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Sheridan went back to eating.
Xethre held back a smile. It was good thing he had vampiric powers, otherwise this façade of normalcy would be wasted on her. Thank goodness he was able to dispose of the pizza faster than her human eyes could detect. He had simply placed his share on the tray of a passing server as he went by. It was that simple.
“So, I haven’t seen you at Club Sound before.”
“This was my first time.”
“Uh-huh, so what brought you over?” Sheridan asked bluntly.
“You.”
Sheridan’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
Xethre smiled at her shocked expression. “You, Sheridan, I came to see you.”
Sheridan found it difficult to swallow. His smile was positively lethal—it was that sexy. “Okay. Um, well, I’m flattered. How did you know I performed there?”
“Oh, I know quite a lot about you, Sheridan.”
Okay, now that was more than a little creepy. “You’re not like some crazy stalker, are you?” Sheridan laughed, a forced laugh. “Because, I have to warn you, my uncle is a cop, and well, he wouldn’t take so kindly to your attention toward me.”
“Your uncle?” This was news to Xethre. He wasn’t aware that Sheridan had an uncle. The blasted Council, they always left things out.
Sheridan sighed. “Well, a friend. He’s been like an uncle to me.”
Xethre smiled. “A friend that is like an uncle?”
Sheridan scowled. “Yeah, what of it?”
“Nothing, sweet Sheridan, nothing. It is good that you have someone looking out for you.”
“I can take care of myself.” Sheridan said angrily. She pushed a strand of hair out of her face.
“Of course you can,” Xethre said. “But it is still good to have an extra pair of eyes on look out. You’re a young lady in a big city…” He let his words trail off.
Sheridan rolled her eyes. She had heard this before. No one thought she could survive on her own in the city. But she WAS surviving; in fact, she was thriving—well, sort of thriving. Sheridan repeated her earlier words. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince more strongly of that fact.
Xethre let the dark invade his eyes and he leaned forward. “Can you? Can you really?”
Sheridan swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Have you ever thought on the shadows, Sheridan?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you ever seen a shadow and wondered if it were watching you.”
“Do you know how you sound?” Sheridan polished off her beer and pushed her plate away. “You sound downright crazy, not to mention creepy as all hell.”
“I don’t mean to sound creepy, Sheridan. I am simply stating the obvious. There are shadows out there, little one. And those shadows have eyes. You must be aware of the darkness and you must watch out for it. Not all shadows are friendly.”
Sheridan nodded. “Well, thanks for that tidbit, and for the pizza and beer. But you know what, like I said before, I’m exhausted. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to go home now.” Sheridan got up and picked up her bag. She smiled tightly. “Thanks again.” She turned on her heel and left. It took her a great deal of self-restraint not to turn back and cast one more look in his direction. No, some kinds of temptation had to be avoided at all cost. The price was always too high. Sheridan was not about to let herself get distracted—even if he was more beautiful than words.
Xethre watched Sheridan’s magnificent ass sway as she walked away. She was stunning. He could have detained her, or even called her back, but he decided against such action. He had startled her with his rather ominous words, and he knew he needed to give her time to take everything he had said in. There would be other nights. Oh yes, Sheridan Duskul should be mindful of the shadows, and of the watchful eyes—his watchful eyes.
* * * *
Sheridan finished her set and walked over to the bar for a quick drink of water. She ignored the pleas from several regulars to come over and talk; instead she sat on a small stool at the end of the bar. Sheridan did not drink with patrons, another rule of hers. She brushed back a long strand of hair and wished for the umpteenth time that she had secured her hair. She often let it hang loose; she knew that her hair was one of her finer features and she enjoyed making use of it, especially in her stage persona. But on nights like this she couldn’t help but wish for a rubber band. It was ridiculously hot in the club. Roger still hadn’t repaired the AC and she was sweating like crazy under the hot stage lights. Thank goodness she didn’t bother with much makeup, or it would appear as if her face was literally melting off.
“A finer voice I have never heard.”
Sheridan shivered and attempted to get a rein on her raging emotions. Oh God, that voice. She knew who that voice belonged to—Xethre. He had been coming to the club every night this week and every night this week she had to keep herself from jumping him right where he stood. He looked delicious. Better than delicious.
Since the night that they had dinner, Xethre had stopped by the club but kept quiet and distant. He hadn’t tried to approach her. Indeed, he had made no move toward her, and yet she could feel his presence like a molten heat spreading through her body. His eyes, those incredible eyes, would follow her movements stealthily. Every time she felt his eyes on her she would melt. Her heart would beat triple time and her mouth felt dry as dust. How could he affect her so?
“I believe tonight you brought several of the mass to tears.” Xethre said.
“And you?” Sheridan said. “Did I bring you to tears?”
Xethre’s smile was mysterious. “I do not cry easily, little one.”
“No, you wouldn’t, would you?” Sheridan said quietly. “What are you doing?” She finally asked.
“Whatever do you mean?”
Sheridan sighed. “This, all of this. What are you doing? You come here every night, you watch the show, you watch me, and you leave. What are you doing?”
“Could I not merely enjoy the setting, or the music?”
Sheridan narrowed her eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
Xethre laughed. “Hardly.”
“Than give me a straight answer, Xethre. Tell me the truth.” Sheridan gave him a calm, collected look. She would not let him see how nervous he made her.
“I do not think you could handle the truth, little one.”
“Oh, you’d be surprise at how much I could handle.”
Xethre seemed to mull over her words. “You truly wish to know what this is about, Sheridan?”
Sheridan nodded. “Yes.”
“Will you accompany me this eve?”
“Excuse me?”
“After the show, will you accompany me to a place of my choosing?” Xethre grinned. “For the answer, of course.”
“You swear you’re not some sort of ax murderer.”
Xethre laughed. “I swear.”
“Then okay, I’ll come with you after the show.”
Xethre’s eyes deepened. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Sheridan nodded curtly. As long as she got the explanation that she wanted she would follow him anywhere. Of course, she probably was going to regret this. It didn’t
seem like a prudent course of action. But when had she ever been prudent?
* * * *
Sheridan ignored Roger’s glare and made her way over to Xethre.
“So, shall we go?” Sheridan grabbed Xethre’s arm and began to pull him toward the door.
Xethre’s eyes narrowed as he saw Roger making his way toward them. “What is your hurry, Sheridan?” Xethre asked, eyes still trained on Roger’s advancing form.
Sheridan inwardly groaned. She did not feel in the confrontation mood right now. “Can we please go?”
Xethre shook his head. “I believe I would like to meet your boss. He is your boss, isn’t he?”
Sheridan nodded reluctantly. “Yeah.” Sheridan braced herself when Roger reached them. This didn’t look like it was going to be pretty.
“Sheridan.” Roger said. His voice was icy cold.
“Roger.”
“And who is your friend?” Roger asked.
Before Sheridan could answer, Xethre stuck out his hand and smiled brilliantly. “Alexethre Roistkauff.”
Roger inclined his head. “Nice name.” His voice dripped sarcasm.
Xethre laughed. “I’ve always liked it.”
Roger turned back to Sheridan. “I see you aren’t too tired to go out tonight.”
Sheridan sighed. “Roger, this really isn’t the time or the place to discuss this.”
Roger’s face twisted with fury and for the first time ever Sheridan saw true evil mirrored on his face. “Whore.” Roger spat out.
Sheridan’s eyes widened and she drew her hand back to give him a much deserved slap across the face. But before she could manage it, Xethre’s hand shot out and closed around Roger’s neck.
Sheridan gasped. Roger’s eyes were bulging and his face was turning a mottled red.
“That’s enough.” Sheridan said. “Please, Xethre, that’s enough.”
Xethre ignored Sheridan’s plea. “You will never, never, address Sheridan in such a manner again. If you do, I shall be forced to put you in your place—again. You do not wish to test me on this.” Xethre’s nostrils flared. “Do we understand one another?”
Roger tried to swallow but found that his windpipe would allow little to no movement. He opted to shake his head a fraction of an inch in an affirmative motion.
Xethre grinned. “Good. I am so glad that we understand one another.” Xethre released Roger, who instantly began to cough and sputter.
“You attacked me!” Roger croaked out. “I’m going to sue your ass.”
Xethre laughed. “You may try.”
Sheridan gave Roger a disgusted look. “By the way, Roger, I quit.”
Roger’s eyes went wide. “You can’t.”
“I just did.” Sheridan turned to Xethre. “Can we go now? I think we’re done here.”
Xethre nodded. “Yes. I think we’re done.”
Sheridan sighed. “Great.” She strode briskly toward the exit.
Xethre turned his turbulent blue eyes on Roger. He leaned into the other man and said quietly. “If you ever, ever come near Sheridan again, I will kill you. And I shall take great pleasure in it.”
Roger swallowed slowly. By the look in his eyes he knew that Xethre’s words were no mere threat. Xethre would and could kill him—and easily.
Xethre nodded. “Now, I believe we understand one another.” He turned on his heel and left.
Roger sagged against the wall, sweat trickling down his face in great rivulets. It wasn’t every day one saw one’s own death mirrored on the face of a total stranger.
Chapter Three:
Sheridan looked around with unabashed awe. Xethre’s home was astonishing, astonishing and huge. She was currently sitting on a comfy black leather couch in what had to be the sitting room. The walls were covered with elaborate paintings and thick carpeting graced the floor. There were little knick-knacks everywhere and the entire room smelled like roses and ginger?
“Your home is beautiful.” Sheridan said, still looking around.
“Thank you. May I offer you something to drink, little one?”
Sheridan sighed. “You know … your formal speech doesn’t seem to fit with your endearments.”
Xethre grinned. “Would you like me to alter what I say and how I say them?”
“No, I’d like you to stop calling me little one.” Sheridan shot back.
Xethre laughed. “I shall try. Although it will be difficult, as the endearment fits you so very well.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like it.”
“I will attempt to find a more appropriate endearment.”
“My name would work just fine.” Sheridan muttered under her breath.
Xethre grinned. “Very well, Sheridan.”
Sheridan gasped. “You heard me?”
“Quite clearly.”
“But … but…” Sheridan sputtered.
“Do not worry. I will explain all in a moment.”
“How about explaining it now.” Sheridan couldn’t suppress a scowl.
Xethre sighed. “You’re very impatient.”
“Actually, I think I’ve been very patient,” Sheridan shot back. “Not to mention I’ve broken all of my rules,” she muttered.
“What rules, Sheridan?”
“Well, first off… I don’t date men from the club.”
Xethre grinned. “Well you don’t work at the club anymore, so that rule is out.”
“I don’t drink with strangers.”
Xethre smiled mysteriously. “I don’t plan on drinking … so you’re safe on that one.”
“I don’t go home with strange men.”
“I’m hardly a strange man.”
Sheridan raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” The word was laced with sarcasm. Sheridan sighed. “And, last but not least, I don’t date musicians.”
Xethre laughed. “I’m not a musician, Sheridan.”
“Listen, I know the type. Tall, dark, handsome, mysterious … oh, and brooding. You’re a musician.”
Xethre couldn’t stop smiling. “I didn’t know that tall, dark, and handsome was a prerequisite for being a musician. And, I’m flattered that you find me handsome.”
Sheridan rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments. You know you’re gorgeous.”
Xethre’s lips curved upward. “You’re not that bad yourself, Sheridan.”
Sheridan blushed. “Listen, we’re getting off track. Like I said, I don’t date musicians.”
Xethre was instantly at Sheridan’s side. She blinked, obviously shocked at how fast he moved.
“How…”
“—did I do that?” Xethre finished for her.
“Uh, yeah.”
Xethre’s blue eyes deepened, darkened and soon were solid black. He saw the fear that flooded Sheridan’s face but could not stop for it now. “There are some things that I must reveal to you, little one. You must keep an open mind.”
Sheridan swallowed and tried to scoot away. She found that there was nowhere left to go. She was trapped between the armrest of the couch and Xethre’s powerful and imposing body.
“I think I’m being pretty open-minded now,” Sheridan said. “Considering that the man that I’m alone with just went all freaky on me.”
Xethre chuckled. “You really are something, Sheridan. Even in the face of your fear you maintain a cheerful and humorous façade.”
“What makes you think it’s a façade?”
Xethre leaned into her. His breath fanned her face. “I can scent your fear in the air, little one. I can almost taste it on my tongue. You reek of it.”
“You’re really starting to freak me out.” Sheridan said quietly. She was frightened, yes, but she couldn’t stop staring at his mesmerizing face. If only he weren’t so darned beautiful. Men weren’t supposed to be beautiful, were they?
Xethre reached out and drew his cool hand down her flushed face. He watched as she began to shiver, and he knew that her shivers were not all from fear. Despite her weariness and yes, her fear
, she was attracted to him—what’s more, she wanted him. Her desire filled his senses and intoxicated him. She wanted him. Despite everything, his Sheridan wanted him.
“Why … why are you staring at me like that?” Sheridan whispered breathily.
Xethre moved closer until his face was a mere inch away from hers. “Because you have a face worth staring at, Sheridan Malaya Duskul.”
“How do you know my middle name?” Sheridan’s eyes went wide. “No one, absolutely no one, knows my middle name.”
“Sheridan.” Xethre continued to caress her cheek. “I know everything about you.”
“How?” Her question hung heavy in the air. Sheridan remained completely still under Xethre’s silken touch. His hand felt cool and welcome on her heated flesh. She longed for more. She knew it was ludicrous. She had just met him. He was strange and mysterious and hesitant to reveal anything about himself. His eyes did some odd dilating crap and he seemed to know an unnerving amount about her life. These were all very good reasons that she shouldn’t be sitting here, purring under his touch. And yet … yet … she wanted him. She had NEVER wanted anyone the way she wanted this man in front of her.
“Don’t fight it, little one.” Xethre murmured. He placed a chaste kiss on her lips and was surprised when she grabbed his face with both of her hands, opened her mouth under his and deepened the kiss. Her tongue entwined with his and her hands wove their way through his thick hair. “Yes.” Xethre hissed just before his hands went to her hair and his mouth re-assaulted hers.
There was fire raging through his body. This was no simmer, slow and lazy, but an attack on every one of his senses. He could feel Sheridan pressed against the length of his body and each muscle, tendon and sinew was alive and straining for her touch, her warmth—the warmth of life.
Xethre effortlessly slid the straps of Sheridan’s dress off her shoulders. The top pooled to her waist and her magnificent breasts were bare to his touch and smoldering eyes. He took her in. Her skin was alabaster, unblemished, unmarred and softer than down. Her breasts were full and high and tipped with pale pink nipples that were hard under his hot look.
