Bound to the Fallen (Prophecy #2)

by Stevie J. Cole

  “You are British, aren’t you? Or is that just a fake accent to make you seem more…” I stopped myself and quickly lifted my glass to my mouth taking in several enormous gulps in an effort to silence myself.

  Gavin knowingly smiled, a near silent chuckle floating from him as he turned sideways in his chair. Placing his feet firmly on the floor, he leaned toward me and said, “Seem more…? You didn’t finish your sentence.” His smile widened and dimples formed on each side of his face. His eyes narrowed as he stared at me like he was trying to read my thoughts.

  My face became warm as the blood rushed to my cheeks. Gavin twisted the stem of the glass between his fingers. “I prefer to be called English, not British. Pet peeve of mine.”

  I blinked slowly in an attempt to seem sexy, again raising my glass to my lips. I looked down and swirled the small amount of wine left before polishing it off. “So, what about you? You’re English, a doctor who’s in love with research, you have no life outside of work, and—?” I paused. “There’s got to be something more to you?”

  He glimpsed at me, his eyes seemed to darken momentarily. “You want another glass?”

  Peering down into my empty glass, I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

  Gavin motioned for the bartender. The bartender finished stacking whiskey glasses on the wooden rack beside the bar and stepped toward us.

  “Two more glasses of merlot, please,” Gavin said. He glanced over at me and squinted. “Are you even old enough to be drinking? What’s the legal age here, twenty-one?”

  I shot a mocking glare at him and defensively answered, “Yes, it’s twenty-one, and yes…I’m twenty- five.” I readjusted my legs, crossing my left leg over my right. “How old are you, Dr. Hunter?”

  Reaching up, he gently placed his hands on my cheeks. They were so soft, so warm. He leaned in close to me as he pulled my face toward his. My heart fluttered in my chest because I had no idea what he was doing, but all I knew was that I liked him touching me like this. I’d never been this close to his face and couldn’t help but admire how perfect he looked up close: his eyelashes were luscious and thick; his irises had slight golden flecks embedded within the intense green coloring; the dip in the middle of his lip was perfectly shaped.

  “Gavin,” he whispered, stopping his face within inches of mine. He was so close I could smell the clean, expensive scent of his cologne and feel his warm breath against my skin. “Don’t call me Dr. Hunter — I don’t like it. Please.” He held his hands on my face briefly. I felt his thumb ever so slightly caress my skin. Drawing his bottom lip in inconspicuously, he closed his eyes and pulled his hands away from my face.

  The bartender sat the two glasses of red wine in front of us.

  I discreetly inhaled to calm my nerves and tried to act as though that touch did absolutely nothing to me. Cutting my eyes over the glass as I raised it to my mouth, I said, “You never answered either of my questions, Gavin.” I pulled my lips up into a kittenish grin and took a short sip from the glass.

  “I apologize,” he said and stretched his toned arms over his head, his muscles popping. “I do all the stereotypical things you Yankees expect of an Englishman — cricket, tennis —” He paused. “—crumpets and tea.”

  “Oh, don’t patronize me.” I turned to the front of my chair, twisting my head to the side with a derisive grin on my face. “Ha, you did it too.”

  His brows wrinkled and confusion flew over his face.

  “You Englishmen!” I giggled, “I’m not a Yankee, I’m a southerner. So there, Gavin.” I picked my glass up and took a sip as I stared straight ahead, proud that I’d pointed out he’s incorrect label for me.

  “Well, I do apologize,” he cleared his throat. “I enjoy working out, I’m partial to the color red, I’ve watched the Hangover countless times, and I enjoy fast cars. I read nothing apart from medical journals, I do indeed play cricket, I went to the University of Kent, and I just learned that referring to you as a Yankee is as offensive as referring to me as a British dude.” He paused. “Do southerners use the term ‘dude’?” Sarcasm crept across his face.

  “I’m done with you,” I joked, pretending I was about to get up and leave.

  Gavin’s eyes pulsed open. Grabbing my arm, he seductively whispered, “Oh — but I don’t think you are.” He released his grip on my arm and picked his glass up, placing it to his lips and swallowing as he stared at me. It was almost as though he were daring me to leave. By the look he was giving me I was certain he would chase after me if I actually got up and left.

  My pulse skipped, threatening to go haywire. I had to remind myself to keep control of the situation. I could want all I wanted, and I could enjoy this attention he was giving me, but I could not fall for him; under no circumstances could I let him seduce me into actually liking him.

  “I’m twenty-nine. I’ll be thirty in three months.” He grimaced. “Oh, that sounds terribly older.” He held his hands out like they were a balance as he said, “Twenty-nine.” His hands went in opposite directions of each other showing a dramatic difference between the two ages. “Thirty.”

  “You’re fine.” I froze. “I mean, you’re not old. Look at all you’ve accomplished. You’re only like five and a half years older than me,” I rambled, fearing he’d caught that Freudian slip I’d just made.

  Gavin glanced down at his watch. “Well, I guess I should get to my room. They start these seminars early.” He sat his full glass of wine down on the bar.

  “Yeah, I should go too,” I mumbled, fishing through my purse for my wallet.

  Gavin touched my thigh, circling his finger around on it, and staring at my leg. “Let me get it,” he said as he brought his gaze up to my face and winked.

  Oh. Shit! This is bad. This is so bad. He’s so damn sexy. What the hell am I doing?

  After he’d closed the tab out and signed his name to the receipt he walked toward me. His walk was so hard, so wide, so brutal. He ran his hand over the top of his slightly bowed head, the waves of his hair falling back down around his face made me weak. I was certain he knew how seductive he was making himself look.

  “Thanks. That was nice of you.” I said, following him out to the bright lobby and over to the elevators.

  “Not a problem.”

  The doors opened and we walked in. He pressed the fifth floor button, looked down at me and asked, “What floor?

  “Three.”

  We said nothing to each other as the elevator rose. When the doors opened he stepped off, then turned around to me; his eyes boldly scanned over my body from head to toe. The shiny metal doors attempted to close and he grabbed them with his hand, pushing them back into the wall.

  “You sure did get red when you said I was ‘fine,’ ” he said, a devilish grin forming on his face. “Blush is becoming on you. For a moment — I thought I may kiss you.” He raised one eyebrow and raked his white teeth across his bottom lip.

  I silently stood there, my heart hammering in my chest. I placed my palm against the smooth metal wall of the elevator to keep my knees from buckling under me.

  Gavin’s hand fell from the side of the elevator. “See you in the morning then,” he said as the doors slowly closed.

  As I toppled against the wall, I could feel my face and chest growing warm. I was partially flattered at his brash comment, but also slightly put off that despite my efforts, I’d made it painfully obvious that I was attracted to him.

  Opening the heavy wooden door to my room, I peeled my clothes off on the way to the bed. I picked up my Kindle from the bed stand, turning it on as I crawled into the neatly folded queen size bed. I’d finished ten pages when I realized I hadn’t comprehended one word I’d read. My mind kept straying to thoughts of Gavin. I turned my Kindle off and sunk down underneath the starched covers. It took me the better part of an hour to finally calm my racing thoughts enough to drift into sleep.

  The next morning, as I was artfully applying a coat of black mascara
to my lashes I stopped and looked at myself in the large mirror.

  I’m so not doing this to impress that man.

  I paused and leaned in closer as I brushed the thick applicator from the root to the tip of each eyelash on my right eye.

  I mean, perfectly applied makeup just gives you that polished, professional look.

  I inserted the applicator back into the tube and tossed it down onto the marble sink. A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I looked my reflection in the eyes.

  Way to go, Brooke. You’re obsessed with a ridiculously sexy surgeon… with a voice that oozes sex…who’s probably got a string of dumb girls fawning all over him. Way to control yourself.

  Making my way from the bathroom over to the bed, I shook my head and continued talking to myself; this time I verbalized my internal dialogue. “Obviously, I just want to have my heart stomped all over.”

  I slipped my feet into a pair of red patent leather flats and stood up, glancing at my reflection, again talking aloud to myself, “Yep, still have every intention of goin’ out with him and having drinks at some point.” Sighing again as I grabbed my purse, I made my way to the door.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gavin

  Staring at the ceiling, I lay in the uncomfortable hotel bed, slightly unnerved at my inability to shake this woman from my head. I felt like she bewitched me: her movements, her face, those damn lips — all completely mesmerized me in a manner unfamiliar to me. I’d never wanted, desired a woman the way I did her, never. I was all too used to relationships based solely on sexual gratification, a mutual understanding that things would go no farther than the bedroom. I was used to trained women completely different than her.

  There was a feeling of uncertainty; she stirred a vulnerable feeling deep inside of me and I didn’t like it. I’d seriously debated putting my mouth on her! I wanted to taste her; the jeopardy of that in and of itself should have deterred my pursuing her.

  I felt so out of control.

  The thought of how dangerous the two of us getting involved could be crept into my mind, but I shoved the thought far away. Closing my eyes, I tried to force sleep, but sleep evaded me. I tossed and turned, thinking of the pale color that washed across her face when I told her, “I thought I may kiss you.”

  I should’ve kissed her, grabbed her by the back of her head and pulled her to me. Should’ve covered her mouth with mine and tasted her.

  I released a sigh of agitation as I willed her to leave my thoughts, to vanish from my mind so I could sleep. After another thirty minutes of lying there, I rose and dressed myself to leave the hotel. In order to grant myself peace I would have to appease the demon within me.

  The bar was dark and filled with thick clouds of smoke. The hum of conversation mixed with the music playing from the speakers, creating an almost hypnotic lull. I pushed my way through the crowd of men, ignoring the naked woman dancing on the stage. Each breath I blew out was tainted by a low growl from my frustration and need to get my control back. My eyes found the red-head behind the bar. The white butterfly marked on her neck caught my attention.

  I leaned over the bar and whistled at her. Looking up, her lips pursed together and she set the glass she was drying down. Her hips swayed from side to side as she dodged the other bartenders frantically pouring and mixing drinks.

  Placing her elbows on the bar top, she rested her chin in her palms. “Been a few years since you’ve been here. You here on business, Gavin?”

  “You know me well.” I swallowed. “I’m not going to make it through this trip if I don’t get something to tame this craving.”

  Her lips pushed up and she laughed. “I wouldn’t expect you to come here for any other reason.” She motioned with her finger for me to come with her. Snaking through the crowd, I followed her to a hallway and to the back of the bar. Her hand rested on the lock and she glanced back at me, narrowing both her eyes. “Still don’t kill ‘em?”

  I shook my head. “No. I only want blood when I’m angry, and even then I won’t kill them.”

  She shrugged and flipped the lock. “Suite yourself. Just make sure it’s locked when you leave.” Then she walked back out to the bar.

  Opening the door, I immediately felt that control return to me.

  “You’re here by choice, aye?” I called out into the dark room. My eyes adjusted and I could make out the silhouette of a woman cowering in the corner. “Woman. You’re here by choice?”

  “Ye – yes, sir.”

  Leaping across the room at her, I hissed, “That’s all I need to know.” Moments later my mouth was on her, my hands trying to calm her body as I sucked all knowledge of right and wrong from her.

  The next morning I awoke feeling slightly more in control of myself, but still unable to completely shake the idea of Brooke from my mind.

  Stepping off the elevator, I glanced around the lobby to see if I could spot Brooke. She was standing at a table filling out a name tag, and I walked in her direction. I held my phone up and pretended to read the screen; I wanted to appear completely disinterested. Just as I glanced up to make sure of her whereabouts she turned around. My gaze quickly fell back to my phone and I continued to walk straight ahead. I inched my stride to the right slightly and within a few steps my shoulder grazed hers.

  “Sorry ‘bout that, Brooke,” I said, lowering my phone. “Wasn’t paying attention.” I stared at her. Her hair fell perfectly around her face; her full lips were coated with a shiny gloss.

  “It’s okay. I wasn’t paying attention either,” she said.

  “So, where do they have you today?” I shoved my phone back into my pocket.

  “Um, conference room B.” She glanced up from her itinerary and smiled. “What about you?”

  “Conference room A,” I paused. “Maybe I’ll find you at lunch, aye?”

  Her face darkened to a deep red and her eyes widened. “Uh, yeah, maybe.” She turned away from me and found her way to the open doorway of the carpeted conference room.

  I could tell she was slightly embarrassed at her reaction and I reveled in it. The corner of my lips spread across my face as I watched her walk away.

  I approached the long table draped with a white table cloth to sign in. “Dr. Gavin Hunter, PI,” I informed the lady with the roster. She smiled at me and looked down at her thick list, scanning her ballpoint pen down the edge of the names until she came to mine.

  “All right, Dr. Hunter, if you’ll just sign here to prove you were in attendance today.” She reached under the table and pulled out a black binder full of papers. “Here’s all the study information,” flipping the binder open, she tugged at a piece of paper in the front jacket, “and here’s your itinerary for the next two days.”

  Crossing the lobby, I stopped to peer in the room Brooke had strolled into. I searched for her but didn’t see her. Continuing on to my room, I opened the heavy binder, flipping through its contents.

  “…so, as I’m sure you will all agree, the initial results of these trials show reduced mortality from post-operative infection, and the drug yields very few risks associated with its use.” The man giving the presentation pushed the sleeve to his navy blazer back from his wrist and glanced down at his watch. “Well, it looks as though it’s time to break for lunch. We’ve provided a catered lunch in the ballroom at the opposite end of the lobby. We’ll pick up with Dr. Turner discussing the methodology upon our return.”

  I rose, placing my binder in my seat to stretch. I followed the mass of other medical professionals out into the lobby and walked to the room next to mine. The doors were still closed and I could hear the speaker announcing lunch. Casually propping myself against the wall next to the large doors, I watched as people poured out from the room.

  “Brooke,” I called to her when she stepped into the lobby. She spun around and I made my way toward her. “You’re not going to make me eat alone, are you?”

  The ends of her mouth curved up into a delici
ous grin, “Well, since I don’t want to eat by myself either, no, you’re in luck.” She adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “Plus, it’s hard for me to decline lunch invitations.”

  Stopping midstride, I glanced down at her. “Oh, is that so, now? So, I shouldn’t let the fact that you’re being seen in public with me go to my head then?” A soft smile shaped my lips as I looked into her placid blue eyes.

  “Nope,” she said, flipping her hair behind her shoulder.

  I laughed and nudged her arm with my elbow. “Okay then.”

  Following the crowd across the lobby, I kept glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. She was tearing at her fingernails, her muscles looked tense, and she kept swallowing. Nervous. Being around me like this made her nervous.

  We grabbed our plates and sat down at a table in the corner of the ornately-decorated ballroom. I scooted my chair under the table and unfolded the white cloth napkin on my lap. “So, you’re a party girl, aye?” I asked before I took a small bite of roast.

  An offended look scowled across her lovely face. “No, why would you think that?” she replied.

  “Just a question. You said you went to bars nearly every weekend to listen to bands, just curious.”

  “Just because I actually have a life outside of work doesn’t make me a drunk,” she said.

  “Well, now, who said anything about being a drunk?” I took a sip of water and looked down at my watch.

  “Speaking of drunks,” she paused. Her fingers pulled at the hem of the napkin. “You still gonna let me teach you how to shake work off your mind for a few hours?” Her eyes met mine momentarily before darting back to her lap.

  My initial thought was that I would love for her to “teach” me how to keep my mind off work, but probably not in the way she was thinking.

  I shot a smug look at her, a short, deep laugh escaping me as I said, “Well, I think I can work that in somehow…what about tomorrow? Just in case you get me drunk. That way I could sleep it off during the flight home?” I knew what I was doing; I had no intentions of getting drunk, I couldn’t stand the feeling of diminished self-control that accompanied too much alcohol, but I also wanted to make her wait. “Sound good to you?” I asked, watching her.