by D. B. Shayne
“I would say good morning but I don’t think that is necessarily true,” he began, observing her body language and scathing expression. He paid particular attention to her neck which had a few dark marks around it. He was expecting to find her at least a bit shaken after her ordeal but Jasmine appeared livid. All he wanted to do in that moment was hold her against him, offer comfort and kiss her softly, assure her that she was safe in his arms, safe with him, period. Terrence recalled the first time he saw her a week ago, sitting outside the same bistro, having breakfast. He was heading to a meeting in a building across the street. Terrence was captivated not only by her physical beauty but the strong, inner one she exuded. After the meeting he’d made it his business to find out who she was and what she did; ordering several back issues of the Durham Financial Times and reading every article he could uncover that she had written. Her beauty was but a pleasant complement to her intellect and talent.
“Jasmine, what’s wrong?” He badly wanted to ask her how she was doing after what occurred the night before but that question would undoubtedly lead to exposure of what he did to Calvin. Something very troubling that apparently involved him was going on but he couldn’t possibly summon even the thinnest of theories as to what it was.
“Hi Mr. Devereux,” Jasmine greeted stiffly.
“Hmm, formalities, a sure indication of me being in the proverbial dog house.” Jasmine reached into her bag and pulled out the recorder and set it down in the centre of the table.
“I hope that is something hot to drink that you have there,” Terrence said, leaning back in the chair.
“Excuse me?”
“Something hot, you know, to melt those icicles you are sending my way. It feels like winter at this table.” Jasmine sent him an appropriate frosty glare. She wanted to rake him over the coals for how he manipulated a situation so he could get close to her but did not want to create any problems for her boss. It was killing her though, not being able to vent.
“Let’s finish the interview shall we?” Jasmine pressed the little red button. She opened her mouth to speak but the questions she had prepared struggled to leave her lips. She punched the button again and gave Terrence a hard stare.
“Terrence I’m going to ask you something and I want─no need you to be honest with me.” Terrence sat forward, propped his elbows on the table and linked his hands under his chin, eager to know what was troubling Jasmine.
“Anything.”
“Calvin Simmons was killed last night, his throat was torn open, did he die at your hands Terrence?” Jasmine’s eyes started to burn.
Terrence fell back in the chair and straightened his tie that was already perfectly positioned. He became tense and there was a flicker of yellow in his eyes.
“Jasmine, look, I slashed his throat a-” Jasmine shot to her feet and Terrence followed suit, going around the table to stand next to her. Jasmine grabbed the recorder, yanked her bag off the chair and backed away. Tears sprang into her eyes.
“I do not want to hear another word, Terrence Devereux. I will pretend for the rest of my life that I did not hear what you just said.” Terrence reached for Jasmine and she nearly stumbled as she backed further away.
“Don’t touch me,” Jasmine hissed through her teeth.
“Jasmine would you please listen to me?” Terrence pleaded as he pulled his hands back. His eyes were brimming with pain. Patrons sent them curious stares. Alan magically appeared at Jasmine’s side. “Is everything alright here Jasmine,” he asked, giving Terrence an ominous look.
“Yes, everything is fine,” Terrence rasped. Alan turned to Jasmine for assurance.
“I’m okay Alan.” The waiter hesitantly left them alone. Jasmine turned around and practically ran from the bistro. She glanced behind her to see if Terrence was following and was relieved to see he wasn’t.
He murdered Calvin! I can’t believe this! He is no different than the others and I should have followed my mind instead of my heart. Dammit Terrence! You killed Calvin because he roughed me up? What he did to me was messed up but he didn’t deserve to die for it. This wasn’t a gallant gesture Mr. Devereux-this was cold and cruel murder!
Jasmine’s hands were trembling as she tried to open the door of her car and it took several attempts before she was successful. She got in, slammed the door and threw her handbag onto the backseat. Then she gripped the steering wheel and wept. She hated Terrence Devereux for making her fall in love with him. Then ripping her heart out.
Chapter 11
Driving just under the speed limit, Jasmine headed through the suburban area of Ashford, located in the parish of Weston, under a heavily star-studded sky. She was completing the job she was assigned by delivering a copy of the new issue of Durham Financial Times to Terrence Devereux in person. If she had decided to push the task off on someone else, although it would have been the easier choice, it would have raised a red flag miles wide with her boss. When Jasmine had phoned Terrence to let him know she was on her way to drop off the magazine, he informed her he was not in the city. He was spending a few days at Varick Hall, the family estate. The directions Terrence supplied her were easy to follow but the journey itself was strenuous. Jasmine had been dying to talk to about what was going on in her life but she still had not been able to reach Aleesha, who had sent her a strange message the night before about ‘sorting through some issues but she was alright and will call contact her in a few days’. Jasmine’s car stereo was tuned to a news station as she was anxiously awaiting an update on Calvin’s murder. When the crime segment commenced, she pulled off the road to listen.
“The Durham Police Department has issued an update on the murder of Calvin Simmons. An autopsy report revealed that the cause of death was from a gunshot wound to the chest. Slash injuries to the deceased’s throat were inflicted post-mortem. The police have apprehended and charged Barry Kviche who confessed to the murder. Mr. Kviche is the brother of Zola Kviche. Mr. Simmons assaulted Ms. Kviche last December and was sentenced to six months in prison. Ballistics from a firearm found in Mr. Kviche’s possession matches the five recent unsolved murders of paranormal beings…” Jasmine turned off the radio. Oh my god Terrence did not kill Calvin? I did not even give him a chance to explain himself! She had accused Terrence Devereux of murder. But he had admitted to slashing his throat so what the hell happened that night? Jasmine put the car back into drive and pulled back onto the highway, trying extremely hard to concentrate on the road as her mind overflowed with questions desperate for answers. An enormous house partially surrounded by towering casuarinas soon came into view and Jasmine slowed her car to turn into the winding driveway. Varick Hall was magnificent. The property was easily several acres in size. The driveway was illuminated with ground lights on both sides. The gardens looked as if they were plucked straight out of a magazine-or perhaps a fairy tale. Jasmine parked the car, switched off the engine and took up a large brown envelope off the passenger seat. She was very tempted to leave the engine running but decided against it. She did not intend to stay any longer than it took to place the package in Terrence’s hands, and make an apology. Plus, she had to make an appearance at a party at the office to celebrate a co-workers birthday. She approached the front door and knocked firmly on it. Jasmine was a little surprised at the lack of a doorbell for such a huge home.
“Mr. Devereux?” she called out.
“Come in,” Terrence returned. Jasmine opened the door and closed it behind her when she stepped inside. The interior of the sprawling mansion was even more breath-taking than the polo club with its fancy furnishings and exquisite paintings adorning the walls. Terrence was standing by a bar area to the right of the foyer. Jasmine watched him pour a glass of rum. Her eyes could not resist admiring the gorgeous man who was watching her with tortured eyes. He was wearing a white shirt with every button on it, undone. His broad, muscular chest was in full view. Blue jeans that hung low on his hips in the absence of a belt completed his attire. Jasmine managed to drag her eyes f
rom his body upward to his face.
“Hi.” Terrence stared at her with piercing eyes, roaming over her snug-fitting, strapless blue dress that ended several inches above her knees. Jasmine walked over to him with a purposeful stride. She tried to give him the envelope but he refused to take it. He leaned against the bar and took a huge swallow of his drink, nearly emptying the glass. He set the glass down on the counter and folded his arms across his chest.
“Did you hear the news?”
“Yes, yes I did.”
“Isn’t there something you want to say to me?” His tone was pained and harsh. Jasmine took a deep breath and tossed the package onto a nearby chair. She felt her throat tighten as her mind raced with what she was going to say.
“I am sorry for wrongfully accusing you of killing Calvin.”
“Apology accepted, reluctantly.” Jasmine shook her head slowly.
“I’m not done,” she told Terrence with her hands clenched at her sides.
“You didn’t kill Calvin but you could have. You went after him with the intentions of hurting him.” Terrence straightened up and closed the tension-filled space. He held her shoulders firmly and Jasmine kept her eyes fastened on his chest that was mere inches away from her mouth.
“Look at me dammit,” Terrence commanded. Jasmine slowly raised her head and when their gazes connected, the anguish, doubt and passion that pulsed between them was palpable.
“I did not, did not go after Calvin to kill him although I wanted to and it would have been so easy. I was going to put a beating on his creepy ass but I was not going to end his life. Kevin, one of the attendants at the polo club told me what happened and heard you shout out Calvin’s name, that’s how I know about what he did to you and I followed his scent. But when I tracked him down he was already dead. I still lashed out at him in anyway because I was mad as hell that he hurt you. I need you to believe that Jasmine.” Jasmine sighed softly.
“Were you ever going to tell me what happened?”
“I wanted to but I kept picturing the end result I am living right now.” Jasmine knew in her heart that she believed him and it tore her up inside because that fact revealed how deeply she felt about the man standing before her. But her heart hesitated at the thought of them taking things any further, so much had occurred since they first met a couple days ago. She had to walk away. But could she? And if she stayed could she trust him- trust him to keep tight reins on his temper and the beast within? Jasmine tried to convince herself it was for the best if she ended it all, right there and then.
“I believe you Terrence.” Terrence’s shoulders relaxed at her statement and his hands fell away from her shoulders. He took a step back, curious to know what her answer was going to be when they met at Waterfront Bistro but decided that even if she was going to say yes to being his, it no longer mattered, it seemed they’d already gone to the point of no return.
“Thank you,” he replied softly. Jasmine nodded and issued him a crooked smile. Her chest felt as if it was being torn mercilessly to shreds.
“I’m leaving now, Terrence.” The words nearly suffocated Jasmine as they fell from her lips. Terrence turned away without a word and headed back to the bar. Jasmine was walking towards the door when something caught her eye. She stopped abruptly. Draped over a chair was a white dress made of a soft transparent fabric. Jasmine reached over and picked it up. The soft material seemed to caress the skin of her hands as she touched its folds. It was a simple but beautiful, sleeveless sheath; seeing it and knowing what it symbolized hit her like a tank armed with spikes. She turned and looked at Terrence who was downing another glass of liquor.
“Is this for me?”
“Two things are wrong with that question. Tense and relevance,” Terrence stated in an irritated tone before he finished off the drink. He banged the glass onto the marble surface and sent a hard look Jasmine’s way.
“It was for you. And I don’t see why that matters now.”
“This is a dress for a mating ceremony, isn’t it?” Terrence ran a hand through his dark hair. The subject was physically painful to discuss.
“Please, this conversation is pointless,” Terrence groaned. Jasmine walked back across the room with the gown in hand. She stopped so close to Terrence their bodies touched. Jasmine lifted her eyes to his. The musky scent of him laced with rum was intoxicating.
“Jasmine, I got that for you in high hopes you would agree to become my mate,” Terrence couldn’t help himself, his fingers wandered over her face.
“So it is for me?” The words floated into Terrence’s head and stuck, and amplified. A flicker of hope formed in his heart.
“Jasmine?”
“Were you hopeful or cocky?” Jasmine asked frowning. Terrence felt the flicker die a quick death. Terrence held his tongue and waited for her imminent departure. He had been tortured enough for one night. Jasmine walked away for the second time, pausing long enough to set the dress back onto the chair and made her way to the door. She engaged the lock. Terrence felt a surge of heat pump heavily through his body. Jasmine turned around, and with her eyes fixed on Terrence, she pulled her dress over her head and dropped it on the floor. Her bra and panties followed in quick succession, ending up in a lacy pool at her feet. And there Jasmine stood, naked, gorgeous.
She picked up the dress for a second time and made her way towards Terrence; his eyes devoured her full, firm breasts, the sweet flare of her hips and shapely legs. Jasmine slipped the gown over her body. Terrence was rooted to the floor. He was hard, and ready, and damned ecstatic.
“You know about the ceremony?” Jasmine nodded.
“I picked up a book that was recommended by a friend.” Terrence held her smiling face in his hands.
“You were going to say yes?” Jasmine’s smile broadened.
“Yes, Terrence, and can you please tell me why you were in such a hurry for this to happen?” All Terrence wanted in that moment was to mate not talk but he owed Jasmine an explanation.
“On his deathbed, my grandfather confessed to me about many affairs he’d had, that there was no headboard broad enough to put all the notches. He was ashamed of what he’d done, especially after seeing my father following in his footsteps in that regard. So, I made a promise to him that by my twenty-sixth birthday I would be with my true mate, consummate the union in the traditional mating ritual and stay loyal to her and my family until the great spirits call me home.” Terrence’s brothers had also made a vow to do the same when love came knocking.
“Your birthday-”
“Is tomorrow,” Terrence whispered.
“I see. I can also see why you wouldn’t want to tell me about a self-imposed ultimatum on when to find true love. It seems a little cra-”
“Crazy, I know, putting that kind of pressure on myself.” Terrence finished.
“But your promise is coming to light. I am so in love with you Terrence Devereux.”
“I love you Jasmine Moore.” Terrence scorched her mouth with hungry kisses, dipping his tongue into the satiny depths of her mouth. He pulled her against him and squeezed her so tightly she could barely breathe. He ended the kiss abruptly, looking deep into her blazing eyes.
“Are you ready Jasmine?”
“I’m ready Terrence.”
Chapter 12
Jasmine and Terrence walked hand in hand out to the lush gardens at the rear of the house.
“Varick Hall is amazing,” Jasmine exclaimed.
“My great-grandfather Varick built this house for his mate Eloise.”
“Was she human?” Jasmine asked curiously. Terrence smiled at her question.
“From my mother back to my great-grandmother were human.”
Jasmine looked around in awe as Terrence led her to a small clearing ahead. In the centre of it stood a large block of stone with the head of a tiger etched into the front of its grey surface. Spread on the ground before it was a large, square, woven mat of scarlet and burnt orange shades. There was an intricate design
of a tiger’s head in the middle and the words, passionis sanguinem potestatem encircled it. It had been gifted to Terrence on his sixteenth birthday by his grandfather, Thatcher Devereux. At each corner of the mat was a bamboo torch.
Terrence had left everything as it was, even when Jasmine had walked out on him at the café. He’d made preparations from the first night they met, in hopes his utmost dream would be fulfilled.
“Passion, blood, power,” Jasmine murmured softly, translating the Latin words. Terrence smiled, impressed.
“Yes, it’s our ancestral motto. This mat actually belonged to my grandparents.” Terrence’s brothers owned similar mats that were custom made and gifted to them by Theodore Devereux on reaching their sixteenth birthday.
Terrence followed Jasmine’s fascinated gaze around the vast property that was only used a few times during the year for Christmas gatherings and a handful of parties. The mating ritual could happen anywhere but Terrence wanted his to be at Varick Hall-he believed it fitting for the fulfilment of his promise. Terrence left Jasmine’s side, pulled a lighter from the pocket of his pants and proceeded to light the torches. Jasmine watched as each one burst into orange flames that danced in the soft breeze. Terrence tossed the lighter aside and stood at the edge of the mat. He held out a hand to Jasmine, who took it without hesitation. He held her and kissed her tenderly.
“Do you know what’s really going to happen tonight?” Jasmine slid her hands into Terrence’s hair and moulded her body to his. She covered his chest with kisses, the hair softly grazing her lips.
“You’re going to make love to me.” Jasmine paused to tease a nipple with her teeth. Terrence grabbed her ass and pinned her against his hardness. “Then I’m going to get down on my hands and knees…” her voice trailed off as she flicked the nipple with her tongue.
