by Jackie May
“You’re mine.”
“Nobody else’s?”
“You know it.”
“I know it. Now make sure everybody else knows it.” I kiss him, guiding his hands to wrap around my waist.
Suddenly, Jay breaks our embrace and clamps a strong hand on my jaw. With surprising force he makes me look into his eyes, which are crackling with adrenaline. I’m startled by his intensity. By pure instinct I resist, but his grip is too strong. “Really?” he says with challenge in his tone. “Maybe you should take notes from Elle on how I like to be kissed.”
There’s just enough time for me to actually hear Elle’s knees go weak before Jay and I devour each other’s lips. My fingers are lost in his hair. He bends forward, forcing me to lean back in his steeled arms. I feel that every ounce of him—even his soft lips—are a force to be reckoned with. Resistance is absolutely pointless. I’d be annoyed with such a show of dominance, if I weren’t so damn flattered by the realization that he’s had this in him all this time but has never used it on me.
A gravelly voice kills the moment. “Would you look at these two? The underworld traitor and her human cop. They really need to start being more strict about who they let into this place.”
The wolf is middle-aged and scrawny, but his goons are young and massive. They crack their knuckles, taking up positions behind Elle and me. We’re surrounded.
So yeah, after that somewhat cheesy and very unimaginative insult, there follows a one-sided conversation which lasts exactly eight seconds. Jay looks the guy directly in the eyes and says, “I’m going to give you guys the option. You can take your best shots at me, after which I’ll buy us all a round, or you can put your eyes on my girl again.” So then, naturally, the wolf leers at me, and, just as naturally, Jay rockets a fist through his teeth.
All three wolves rush Jay at once. Shrieking, Elle raises a hand to blast the nearest wolf, but I bat her hand away. “No! No help!”
“It’s three against one!”
“I know; it’s perfect!”
The crowd scrambles to move away from the brawl. This is no choreographed movie fight where each thug politely waits his turn while the hero knocks them all down like dominoes. This is the chaos of savages, and Jay, the human wrecking ball, is more than a match for them. There’s not a single body part he doesn’t use with lethal force. Headbutts to the face, elbows to the throat, knees to the groin, boots to the kneecaps. With only three guys, they can’t possibly contain all of him.
It takes several trolls to stop the fight. One of them is Terrance. He cuffs Jay’s neck with one arm and jerks him out of the tangle of wolves. “All right, kids, that’s the bell. Recess is over,” Terrance thunders. “You three, I’ve had words with before, so—” He has to stop, because Jay won’t quit thrashing. Gripping him by the neck, Terrance holds him at arm’s length about three feet off the ground. Jay flails his feet and pounds his fist into Terrance’s tree trunk arm. The three wolves, huffing and puffing with fatigue, watch with incredulous eyes.
“You know what,” Terrance says, grimacing with strain, “obviously, my guy here’s got a death wish, so why don’t I just give him back to y’all?” He drops Jay, and the wolves, much to the amusement of the crowd, back away from him.
Jay’s bleeding. Not from any particular spot—just, in general. The wolves are hardly scratched but sucking wind like crazy, about to drop dead of exhaustion. They gape at Jay like he’s some exotic animal. How in the world is he still standing, let alone balling his fists, ready for round two? He glares murderously at them.
“Since it’s three against one, the decision goes in favor of the one,” Terrance decrees. “You three, beat it.” Without complaint, the wolves turn for the exit.
“No way in hell. That’s bullshit,” Jay complains, and he spits blood on the floor, right at Terrance’s feet.
The music stops.
The crowd stops.
My breathing stops.
“Um, Jay. Jay, babe.” I take baby steps to him, while trying to appease Terrance with a smile. “So, um, how about we don’t press our luck—”
He jerks away from my touch. “I got a deal with these jagoffs. I told ’em if they took their best shots, I’d buy us all a round. Now, dammit, I ain’t buying shit-all without seeing their best shots.”
Terrance folds his watermelon biceps across his chest. “Are you telling me they didn’t take their best shots? ’Cause I can have a mirror brought out, if you want to see for yourself.” A chuckle ripples through the crowd.
“You think I’d still be standing if they did? What, you think I can’t tell when somebody’s holding back?” Turning to the wolves, Jay wipes blood from his eyes. “Where I come from, that’s the ultimate insult, so if you’re trying to piss me off, mission accomplished.”
The younger wolves look lost. They’re too stupid to understand what Jay’s doing, but the older wolf steps forward, eager to save face. “Good, ’cause we were just getting started.”
“What’s happening, Shayne? Why’s Brenner want to get killed?” Elle whispers.
“That’s just it,” I hiss. “It’s three against one, and Jay’s not dead. Do you know how humiliating that is for them? They should be laughed out of this place, but Jay’s throwing them a bone.” I steeple my hands at Terrance, mouthing a silent Please!
He relents with a sigh. “Look, I’m sure there’s a lot of honor at stake here, but this ain’t happening on my brand-new floors, so you’ll have to call it a draw. Take it or leave it.”
“Shit,” Jay says, “in here I stand a chance, but I won’t survive two seconds on the street with these guys. I’ll take the draw.”
All eyes go to the lead wolf. He regards Jay with a complicated look, not entirely comfortable with such an obvious mercy surrender. But something is better than nothing. He says, “Humans can be smart, after all. Live to fight another day.”
“Now, about that round,” Jay says to Terrance.
The troll throws his hands up. “You tell me. Would the four of you like it for here or to go?”
Jay answers by peeling his ripped T-shirt over his head and using it to mop up the blood he spit on the floor. It’s an impressive gesture that not only ingratiates himself with Terrance but shows off Jay’s shirtless hard body at the same time. Granted, his entire torso is covered in blood, bruises, cuts, and burns, but for some in this crowd, that only makes him more mouthwatering. One demon whom I know to be a glutton for punishment literally licks his lips.
The music starts up again. The crowd moves on. Terrance wags a finger at me—a last warning—and leads his bouncers away. The younger wolves are confused. “Wait,” one of them says, “are we really going to drink with this guy?”
“He called us jagoffs,” the other whines.
“Because you are jagoffs. Now shut your faces,” the older wolf growls. He and Jay share a look of mutual respect. Not friends, by any means, but no longer enemies. For tonight, anyway.
I squeeze Elle’s hand. “Oh my gosh!”
“What in the world just happened, Shayne? I don’t speak wolf.”
“Respect. That’s what just happened.”
“But they were bashing each other in the face two seconds ago.”
“Exactly! And now they’re not. Look, your people go to balls and have the butler announce your full name and title as you walk in; my people get drunk and knock their skulls together. Same difference.”
“Oh! This was his debut into society?”
“The first of any human that I know of. He’s an absolute dream!”
“He’s an absolute mess.”
As soon as the wolves are out of sight, Jay sags against me. “Hold me up. The room is spinning, all my teeth hurt. I think my joint’s dislocated.”
“Which one?”
“All of them.”
“Let’s get you to the bar, hotshot. One sip of some of these drinks will—”
“No!” He straightens, taking a deep breath, summoning a r
eserve of strength. “No, nothing addictive. You’re the only habit I can take, Shayne, and I’m not even sure I’ll survive that.”
Elle gawks at me. I wink at her. “You got it, babe. Anything for the biggest swinging dick in the club.”
Elle claps her hands with a deranged smile. “Actually, we’ll just have to see about that. Ladies and gentleman, the silver fox has arrived.”
We rush outside just as the long, winding front line turns in unison to the sound of bass so heavy it causes snow to fall from the roof. The drop-dead badass beat grows louder with the approach of headlights speeding straight for the front line. Two bodyguards step to the curb, hands on their swords, ready to repel the vehicle should it refuse to stop. The high beams swerve, revealing a massive Rolls Royce SUV, the epitome of both power and sophistication. It slides sideways on the icy road, gliding silently like a hockey puck for thirty yards before coming to a gentle stop exactly two inches from the curb. The rear passenger door opens, after which nobody appears to get out before it shuts again and the SUV drives away.
The crowd, silent with confusion, stares at the curb. The sentinels sheath their swords, baffled. In that still and silent split second, I hear a gleeful giggle from Elle, and then the night air is split with a bright blue bolt of lightning. The sentinels are blasted off their feet, and every skirt in the crowd is blown up like Marilyn Monroe’s. With the blue flash comes a boom of thunder, which is actually the return of the killer beat, now louder than ever, heralding the new arrival.
Russo.
He stands tall and proud on the blackened sidewalk where the lightning struck. His black hair is styled into a Clark Kent curl on his forehead. His muscles bulge beneath a tailored dinner jacket that seems to sparkle. His grin is both playful and arrogant. His command of the crowd’s attention is absolute, which is good, because nobody sees Elle hopping with delight by my side.
“Look at him, Shayne! Didn’t I tell you?”
“I’m looking. What now? He’s not doing anything. Why’s he not doing anything?”
“Give it a second, will ya? He’s more than willing, but recognizing my commands takes a little getting used to, especially for a human.” She wiggles the fingers of her right hand. “C’mon, silver fox. You feel that?”
Russo glances down at his right hand and smiles.
“That’s it, big boy. Listen to me. Feel me all over you. Let me in, I don’t bite.”
“Are you trying to get into his mind or his pants?”
“Both, actually. I need all of him. Full command.”
I see the moment it clicks in Russo’s eyes. He raises his right hand with a flourish of fingers, and a curtain of blue sparkles surges up from the ground, splitting the line in two. With a twist of his wrist, the curtain of magic parts down the middle and spreads out, forcing the crowd back, making a wide lane directly into the club. Oohs and aahs fill the crowd as he passes through.
Elle is literally squealing with glee. “We’re linked, Shayne. He and I are so getting it on right now in front of your eyes. Oh,” she coos, “who’s the professor now? You’re a good little student, aren’t you? Yes, you are.”
Spotting Elle in the crowd, Russo makes a gun with his fingers, and I shit you not, a real gunshot sound makes the crowd jump with delight. “Elle, let’s maybe not be so totally obvious. Control yourself.”
“It’s not me, Shayne. I mean, the magic is mine, but it’s not about control. I can’t just work him like a puppet. I can only suggest thoughts to him, you know, gentle persuasions. But the bottom line is always his own will.”
“Wait, are you telling me he’s still him, but with access to your practically unlimited power? Elle!”
“Don’t worry, we both have to be in harmony. He can’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Not helpful! There’s literally nothing you wouldn’t do for the spotlight, and I don’t know if you noticed, but Russo’s no wallflower himself.”
“I know, we’re totally in sync. He’s amazing!”
“And he’s probably already drunk on your power. Just keep him on a leash, is all I’m saying.”
A well-spoken vampire host stops Russo at the door. “Sir, it’s obvious you’re VIP, and very much welcomed to Underworld, but I would invite you to consider the others in line. Some of them have been waiting for hours. You understand.”
I clutch Elle’s wrist. “Oh no, it’s an Alfred. Elle, do something. Tell him Terrance approved it.”
Elle laughs. “Shayne, trust me, he’s got this. No help needed.”
Russo turns to the crowd and says, “What, you mean them? But they’re with me, of course.”
The vampire touches a long finger to his chin, perplexed. “Hmm, which ones, exactly?”
“Well, let’s see,” Russo says, and he raises his voice over the crowd. “All right, I want to know, and I want to know now: who in the frozen hell would dare to claim that the greatest city on Earth is Motown-inventing, Tigers-cheering, auto-manufacturing, mother-loving Detroit?” Every single hand shoots proudly into the air, including mine. Russo grins at the vampire. “All of them.”
Cheers erupt. Russo flings the front doors wide open, and the crowd pushes inside, instantly doubling not only the club’s occupancy but the energy and excitement in the main room. The real party has just begun, and Russo is its master. He makes straight for the stage on which a live band has just gone on break, leaving their instruments. Russo taps the microphone. “Can you hear me now?” A raucous cheer answers him.
“Jay. What’s he doing, Jay? We’ve created a monster.”
“It’s Russo, babe. He doesn’t do low profile. Just keep your eyes out for anybody who tries to get close to him.”
“Are you kidding? Everybody here wants a piece of him. He’s a rock star.”
“Look here, my friends,” Russo says. “Since I just doubled the number of possible partners up in this joint, I wonder if y’all could do me a favor. Lot of these folks just came in from the cold, could use a warm body, you feel me? So everybody pair up for a little slooooow dance. A little up close dance.” The crowd goes crazy with whistles and catcalls. “And hey, if your heart just happens to catch a little fire, well…” Russo snaps his fingers, and a spotlight shines on him. “I second that emotion.”
The band instruments raise into the air and launch into the opening notes of the Smokey Robinson Motown classic. “‘If you feel like lovin’ me, if you got the notion,’” Russo sings in a beautiful baritone, “‘I second that emotion.’”
Jay chuckles at my dropped jaw. “That’s not the magic, you know. He does this at weddings.”
Elle pushes me at Jay. “Would you two get out there already? I’ll keep my eye on him.”
I turn with the intention of asking “Are you sure?” but the words catch with my breath when Jay grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd to the middle of the floor. He assumes a slow-dance posture like you see in old movies, holding my right hand up high, with his other hand at the small of my back. It feels a little ridiculous, but I play along, because it’s just so…Jay. I bet you a trillion dollars I know where he learned to dance like this.
I put my left hand on his shoulder, all proper like. “Haley teach you to dance like this?”
“At a Christmas party for the precinct.” As we turn in place, Jay scans the crowd, looking for anybody suspicious. I try to follow his lead, to maintain my focus on the job, but I keep finding myself looking up at him, my eyes lingering too long. “Russo had brought a blind date for me,” he says. “Haley liked her, wanted to help me impress her.”
“Did it work?”
“No.”
“Why not? You haven’t stepped on my feet yet.”
“It wasn’t that. At the end of the night, I asked her if we could get coffee sometime. She said no.”
“That’s it? Just ‘No?’”
After a pause, he says, “She said I didn’t have room for another woman in my life.”
I stifle a laugh, not knowin
g if this is an appropriate thing to find absolutely hilarious. “She was jealous of Haley?”
“I think it was her way of telling me to grow up. Wasn’t the first time I heard it. Or the last.”
“What about me? Do you think Haley would have liked me?”
Jay breaks his surveillance to look into my eyes. I’m scared I’ve said something wrong. “Haley liked everybody.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“But you, she would have loved. More than anybody.”
“Really?”
He thinks for a moment, then adds, “Until she met Elle, of course.”
“Oh, of course. That’s a given.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Neither am I.”
We’re both smiling. Jay says, “Haley would have been like Russo, you know. She could have handled this. All this.” He searches my eyes for something—maybe validation.
I squeeze his shoulder. “I know, Jay.”
He gives me an approving nod, as though we’ve just concluded an important piece of business, and he returns to sweeping his gaze over the crowd. Back to the job.
I can’t. I’m lost in the moment. Needing to be even closer to him, I slip both arms around his waist and press my cheek to his chest. Probably getting blood in my hair, but who cares. Jay wraps his arms around my back and places his chin on my head.
I spend the rest of that slow dance lost in deep thought. I think about my conversation with Russo, how Jay’s like a blank page—he spent so much time on the job, being somebody he’s not, letting others do the thinking for him. He never really became his own person. I have to admit that I can’t answer a lot of easy questions about Jay. Does he have any hobbies? What kind of vacation would he enjoy? What’s his favorite food? Favorite movie? I’m sure he could answer all these questions about me.
Shit and a sigh. Okay, reader, I’m going to admit something, but you can’t roll your eyes, and I definitely don’t want to hear you say “Duh!” Here it is: I think with Jay I’ve been a little…selfish.
I know, I know, shut up. It’s just that I’ve been so focused on wanting him and enjoying the way he wants me, that I haven’t ever stopped to think about him in a way that’s not still all about me. Does that even make sense?
