by Lisa Ladew
Two meanings. Everything he said meant something to her as a woman, and something to her as someone who had recently tried to kill a man and had no idea why. “Yeah, I really do.” She patted her face and wondered if he could see her black eyes under her makeup. She didn’t want him to know how she had done it.
His voice dropped another octave as he stumbled over a few words. Her clit swelled in response and she instantly imagined him naked. He looked like he might be doing the same to her as he spoke slowly: “You’re going to think I’m insane.”
Maybe insane was just her speed. Should she let him know how interested she was in him? She didn’t need the crazy shit. She set her hand lightly on his knee, keeping it there despite the electric shock that hit her as they touched. She licked her lips like he’d done, wanting to see his eyes shift to her mouth. They did.
He could be trusted. She felt that truth deep inside her, along with the lust that was flooding her panties. When she spoke, her own voice belonged in the bedroom as well. “I have tried to kill someone.”
The expression on his face startled her. A fierce longing, like her admission made him think of sins forbidden to him.
“And?” he asked, his eyes boring into hers. Holy shit, she was about to come in her capris, and they’d only been talking for a minute.
She tried to answer. “And. And I got thrown in jail.” No mention of the mental hospital. That kinda shit had to wait for at least the third date.
Too slowly, Cora realized he meant had she been successful or not. Okay, definitely different. Bordering on macabre. And yet, all she could think about was fucking him. Still. She answered carefully. “And I didn’t kill him.”
The thought of Mitch Garner caused hate to course through her, finally cooling her ardor a bit. Jameson pulled back slightly and glanced at the air above her. She looked up, but nothing was there. “His bodyguards saved him.”
Jameson took a deep breath. He didn’t seem judgmental. Not at all. He rather looked like he wanted to lick her like a lollipop. Yes, please. He leaned forward, engaging her in every way. “You’re special.”
Damned right she was, but what in the hell did that mean? “Special?” She tried not to shift in her seat, the friction of her clothes against her skin unbearable as she stared at her hottie’s ice-blue eyes.
Jameson took a deep breath, as if fortifying himself. “You’re-” He glanced around. Looking for help? Mr. Intense and Huge with the graying temples and dark eyes gave him a sharp nod. So he was actually in charge. Jameson was his second-in-command. Jameson’s voice lowered to a husky whisper as he moved in close and spoke into her ear. “I’m going to just say it. You’re a special kind of witch called a switch. Your function is to kill vampires.”
Cora stared. She swallowed. Giggled. She snatched her hand back and slapped it across her mouth. That sexual ledge was still between them, but a cold stream ran behind his words. Witch? Not witch. He’d said something else. She wasn’t even going to think about the word vampire. She’d heard that wrong for sure. Swytch, her mind screamed. She ignored so fucking hard.
“Switch? Like sexually?”
He frowned. “What?”
Cora blushed. He has no idea what I’m talking about. She babbled, uncertain about whether she wanted to hear anything else he wanted to tell her. “Switch, you know. Someone who likes to be both dominant and submissive in bed.” His eyes darkened. She blushed harder. “I read an article online.”
Jameson’s frown deepened. Not something he thought they should be discussing. Got it. “Not what you meant, huh? Sorry if I embarrassed you.”
His blue eyes fixed on hers and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, only that he was damned serious. “Not embarrassed,” he grated.
Her temperature heated up by a few degrees. He was killing her, and he didn’t even know it. “Switch?” she prompted. She really wanted to fucking know. “Spell it for me?”
His jaw clenched, his voice deep and rough. “You’re a weapon, Cora. You’re made to kill vampires, and those-” He gestured toward a stack of TOV pamphlets on the table, showing the recent Victory party winners. “Those are vampires.”
A crazy laugh burst out of Cora, shrill and frantic. She wanted to run. She needed to stay. He wasn’t lying. His words vibrated inside her mind and the fact that they were perfectly ridiculous, and also perfectly reasonable and explained everything, was terrifying. Jameson’s watched her calmly. Quietly. Studying her.
She knew it was true. Somehow, she knew it. But she was going to fight anyway. That’s what weapons were for, right? “Lynessa put you up to this? Ha-ha, fucking hilarious. Just because I’m a little obsessed with a book doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”
Jameson’s look said he didn’t know what she was talking about. She wished he was that good of an actor. No, he was probably just telling the truth when he said, “Nobody put me up to anything.”
Her fingers grasped for something to hold on to. She believed him. God help her, she believed every word the crazy hottie was saying. Shouldn’t the room be spinning? Something should be happening. She shouldn’t be sitting there feeling so normal, able to talk and function and think. She studied Jameson’s face, her vision doing that camera trick of pulling back while zooming in, making everything around them fuzzy and out of focus. Her head dipped as the room did spin a little.
He took her hand. “Don’t panic, Coralie. I’m here.”
She tried again. If she protested enough, maybe he’d give up. Go away. “That’s absurd. There’s no such thing as vampires. Believe me, I’d know.”
Jameson squeezed her hand, the pressure helping to focus and stabilize her swirling thoughts.
Compassion shone on his face. “There are vampires. They do exist. And you are programmed to kill them. Tell me about your hunt.”
Red alerts sounded in Coralie’s brain. She wasn’t the paranoid type, or hadn’t been before all this started, but suddenly telling this guy about when she had tried to kill someone seemed like a bad idea. Because that’s what he had to mean when he said, your hunt. It resonated.
Cora calmly removed her hand from Jameson’s, reaching to the floor beside her chair for her purse. “Uh, sure. I just need to go to the ladies’ room first. Splash some cold water on my face. This is a lot to take in.”
She took off, heading in the general direction of the bathroom. Shit was real. Shit was crazy. She had to go, hottie or not. Killer. The word pulsed in her mind. Jameson had used the word weapon, but Coralie knew that wasn’t correct. She wasn’t a weapon, she was a cold-blooded killer, vampires did exist, and her world would never be the same. Unless she ran. Denied it. Refused to believe a word.
She sensed the big man a second before she ran into him. Bryce. Grinning at her. Looking like every innocent, sweet-but-hot hero in every young adult action film ever made. Not her thing, but still nice to look at.
“You leaving already, Coralie?”
Cora was sure Bryce was a nice guy, but his timing sucked. She didn’t want to call attention to herself trying to get out the door instead of into the bathroom. “Nope, just need to powder my nose. I’ll be right back.”
She smiled breezily and moved to step around him, aiming that way.
Bryce moved with her, staying in front of her. “That’s cool. Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to go see a movie with me or something. Maybe have some dinner. What do you say?”
Ah shit. He wanted a date. That would put a damper on her running-for-the-hills thing. Ordinarily she jumped at the chance to go on dates for the sheer fun of it, but now was not the time. “I don’t think so, Bryce. Life is a little crazy right now. But thanks for the offer.”
Bryce’s winning smile deflected her rejection. “Hey, no problem. I don’t mind crazy. Keeps things interesting.”
Cora resisted the urge to list the virtues of boredom from her current perspective. But her adrenaline was fading. She glanced a look back over her shoulder. Had she overreacted? Vampires? Maybe Jameson
had meant something different. Or maybe this was a joke?
Bryce grinned again. “Come on, whaddya say? Just dinner and a movie. You pick both. Just friends.”
He was sweet. She was terminally single. And things were changing too fast for her to be on sure footing. But yeah, why not? She could use more friends in her life. She smiled. “I’ll give you my number when I get back from the restroom and we’ll pick a day.”
Bryce’s face lit up so bright she felt bad for her initial tepid response. “Awesome! I’ll see you in a few minutes, then.”
Coralie finally made it into an empty restroom. She went straight to the sinks and turned one on as cold as it would go, jamming her hands under the flow. A couple of splashes on her neck did nothing to soothe the feeling of being off-kilter. How did you respond to someone who said things like vampire, witch, and switch to you, and they weren’t discussing costumes?
Cora faced her reflection, meeting her own eyes as she spoke. “Could you really be meant to kill vampires?”
Her face broke into a smile before she’d even finished. This is ridiculous. What am I even still doing here? Fuck, she should have kept running.
Cora’s instincts said Jameson was trustworthy. Her twenty-first century brain said get the hell out. She hated to think how he’d feel when she didn’t come back to finish their conversation, but better safe than kidnapped by a weird-ass cult. Flip-flop much? Much more of this and she’d need to check herself back in the mental hospital.
She wasn’t going back out there. She didn’t want to deal with Bryce, or Jameson. Two stalls faced the sinks where she stood, a small window high on the wall between. An ancient radiator was fixed to the wall below the window.
Hell yeah. Ten years of gymnastics plus parkour were going to save her the embarrassment of sneaking out the front door. Cora tested the radiator to see if it would hold her weight. When it did, she planted both feet and reached for the window, praying it wasn’t painted shut.
It opened with a lurch, but Cora held on tight and found her balance. Thank you, Coach Dover, for those hours on the beam. One good heave and she was able to get herself halfway out the window, turn to sit on the sill, then slip her legs out one at a time so that her butt rested just on the brick outside. With every breath she assured herself she’d done more embarrassing things in her time than this, surely. She was just too busy at the moment to think of any.
Cora was trying to figure out how to close the window when the bathroom door opened. Platinum hair, exotic features. One of the ones who had surrounded her before.
The woman’s eyes widened, then narrowed. She only spoke three words. “We need you.”
Cora didn’t wait to hear more. No, thank you. She had goldfish to take care of. She pushed hard off the windowsill, trying not scrape her butt on the brick, and landed at a run for her car.
At the end of the building she chanced a look behind her. The woman was out of the window and giving chase, pale hair flying behind her. What the actual fuck? Now things are getting scary. Coralie faced front and jacked up her speed.
Cora had never been a particularly strong woman, and she was petite at best, but she had always been among the fastest of her friends growing up. She could run for miles without feeling winded. This bitch ain’t catching me.
Her thighs burned but she ignored them, dashing between cars, keys in hand. One thumb on the key fob, Cora waited until the she was in front of her car door to press the button and alert her pursuer to her destination. She yanked the door open, sat down, and slapped the lock button as soon as it was closed again, her heart racing.
Hands shaking, she jammed the key into the ignition. A look in the rearview mirror showed her the platinum-haired woman two rows over and slowing. Coralie put the car in gear and pulled out of the stall, heading for the exit.
A blue glow behind her told her the woman had her phone out. Had photographed her license plate.
Shit.
Chapter 19
Jameson’s head snapped up as Shiloh burst into the meeting room, her platinum hair a mess, ripped biceps shiny with perspiration. “The switch bugged out.”
“She what?” Bryce’s disappointed words carried across the room. “Aw, man.”
Carick shouted in Shiloh’s direction. “Why did you not stop her?”
The meeting’s organizers whipped their heads around, distracted from packing up to leave. Jameson scowled at everyone and headed toward Shiloh at the door, motioning sharply at Carick to follow.
They headed straight for the parking lot where Shiloh said, “She was out the window before I had a chance to say a word.”
Jameson stared at the building. She went out the window? Had she known about the guards somehow?
Shiloh caught her breath. “I followed her but she’s fast.”
Jameson glanced at her. “Faster than you? But you run with Riot and the big boys.”
She smirked. “Yeah, faster than me. And them, for that matter. I barely cleared the building before she reached her car.”
Carick came running up behind them. “Keeper! Find her. Enlist her.”
Jameson stopped on a dime, turning to confront the other male. “‘Enlist her’? She’s not a soldier.”
Black eyes shimmered as Carick spoke. “That’s exactly what she is. You still don’t comprehend.”
Carick turned as if dismissing Jameson, but Jameson wasn’t done, he grabbed Carick’s arm. “She has a choice.”
“No, she doesn’t!” Carick’s ebony eyes were wild.
Jameson shook his head. This was what the Steward did? This is what they’d been missing? “You can’t bludgeon them into it! I will not be the leader of a forced army!”
Carick scowled, stepping closer. “Who said you were the leader?”
Jameson butted chests with him. Time to throw down with the ancient asshole. It had been brewing, and now they were no better than anyone else. “What good is their power if we don’t give a shit about their will?”
Carick went silent, the kinetic nature of his black irises slowing. When he spoke it was a quiet growl. “Their power is all I can hope to harness. I leave their will to you and your kind.”
Carick aimed for the road and the forest beyond, on foot, like he could make it back to Five Hills without a car. He tossed a last order over his shoulder. “Find the switch. You can’t protect her from her fate.”
Jameson snapped his fists closed. He turned to Shiloh. “She say anything? Do we know who she is?”
Shiloh grinned and held up her phone so he could see the screen. “This help at all?”
The photo was of Coralie’s car, the make and model as obvious as the letters and numbers of her license plate.
Her profile in the front seat called to him. Pert nose. Plump lips. Determined chin. Her wavy hair fanned across her shoulders, obscuring the lines of her neck, but Jameson’s imagination filled in every dark curve.
He gritted his teeth. “Send it to my number.” He’d have Cora’s address and phone numbers tomorrow, by lunchtime at the latest. The only question was what he’d do with them. He nodded at Shiloh. “Good job.”
Then Jameson set off across the parking lot, away from her. Away from Carick. Away to get his thoughts of Coralie under control. Her lips called forth fantasies of words he’d long since accepted he would never hear from anyone, least of all a woman who fired his blood like she did.
But she was a switch. And her life would forever be in danger.
Mortal danger. Jameson had seen more switch bodies litter the forest floor than any living being. Even Carick. How could he claim to have feelings for Coralie and then ask that of her? Yet it was his duty and his burden. Unless there was a way to protect her.
Jameson bit off a curse, raking his hands through his hair as the true weight of his duty fell on his shoulders for the first time.
Shiloh caught up with him and fell into step beside him. He didn’t want the company, but he wouldn’t order her away.
“He’
s right, you know.” The female’s matter-of-fact tone cut into Jameson’s distress, her lack of sympathy somehow comforting. She spoke again. “You can’t protect her. Not in the way you want.”
Jameson knew full well he wanted to protect Cora more than was appropriate given their circumstances, but dammit, he resented that his feelings were on display for anyone else to see. “What are you talking about? Why do you say that?”
Shiloh rolled her eyes as if she could hear his thoughts. “Because you’re a man, J. An old-fashioned one, at that. And she looks light and soft and pretty and all that other stupid shit.”
Jameson was surprised at Shiloh’s words, though there was no bitterness in her voice. “How can you have such a low opinion of someone you don’t even know? Five minutes ago you were impressed at how she gave you the slip.”
The young female turned ninety degrees and crossed her arms, her body squared-off with his. “I don’t have a low opinion of her at all. I have a problem with you trying to limit her to what you think she is. I have a problem with you thinking you can somehow save her from herself.
She moved her hands to her hips. “She’s a switch, Jameson. We all saw it. If Carick’s right, then sooner or later she’s going to cross a vamp’s path and go rabid.”
Jameson flinched. From what Coralie said before she bolted, it had already happened. The fear and worry in her voice had tugged at him, burned him from the inside out.
Shiloh went on. “When that happens do you think she’ll be better off on her own, ignorant, with nobody to help her through the aftermath? Or trained, informed, capable of fulfilling a destiny she can’t avoid? You wanna protect her? Help her get ready for what’s coming after her. Fast.”
Jameson didn’t speak for a long time. They strode through the empty field next to the library, neither saying a word. But when Shiloh angled back toward the library, Jameson followed.
***
Back at the library. Shiloh went in first, then Jameson.
Bryce stood up. “Hey, Shiloh, you bring me back my date?”
