Creature of Habit: Book Two (Creature of Habit #2)

by Angel Lawson

  I was definitely intrigued. I'd spent the last twenty years trying to convince these people and myself of that very idea.

  Amelia pulled away a little so she could see my face. "You grew up, Grant. And left home. I know it's unconventional in your family, but it's what normal people do. It just took you longer than most. Like sixty years longer." She smirked at her own joke. "If you hadn't taken those steps, you and I never would’ve happened. You're not the same person you were before you left home, but that doesn't make it a bad thing. Think of my family. I see them occasionally and call them on the phone. We text and send emails, but we don’t all live in the same house.”

  She nailed it. Every word. Every emotion I felt about the coven and why I needed to be on my own. Maybe there was more humanity in me than I realized. I stared at Amelia, whose tiny hands were clutching my hips. I had no idea how long Amelia Chase would be in my life. How long would she entertain the idea of being with a demon? How long could I protect her from the likes of Caleb or The Council? I had no answers other than I knew I needed to make the most of my time with her.

  "Amelia, I'd really like to show you something." I pulled her down the stairs with me and took her through the room where Elijah and Ryan had ditched their computer work for their never-ending obsession with video games.

  I watched Ryan's eyebrow lift in curiosity. I ignored him, continuing through the room with Amelia at my heels until I reached the art studio that Genevieve so carefully maintained for me.

  “Would you like to see my artwork?” I asked, terrified for one brief second she would say no.

  “Really? I’d love to.”

  Relief washed over me. Because Grant Palmer could fight vampires and help lost souls and protect damsels in distress but he couldn't fight his inner demons alone. Amelia provided me with the key to my soul and an awareness of my humanity. And my connection to artwork had always been the closest thing I had to humanity, even in the darkest days.

  I led her into the room and flicked on the lights. Professional grade spotlights trained on every painting. Amelia’s eyes filled with wonder and a lovely grin appeared on her mouth. God her mouth. I loved it so, but I loved it more than ever in this tiny, unscripted moment.

  “Are these yours?” She reached out and ghosted her fingers over my signature.

  “Yes.”

  “Grant, I had no idea.”

  She stepped into the room, and I followed her, watching my art unfold before her eyes. I focused on her heartbeat, on the rhythm of her breath and everything else that made this woman bring me to life.

  Chapter 30

  Amelia

  Grant's fingers held a paint brush poised over a tightly wrapped canvas. He’d asked me to sit for him. I had agreed and made myself comfortable on the velvet lounge chair by the window. The view was amazing. On one side I had could see across the whole valley. On the other I could stare unabashedly at Grant while he worked. Truly, it was the best seat in the house.

  "Thank you for sharing your work with me." I wasn't sure why Grant had this insecurity with his painting. He excelled in everything he did—why would this be any different?

  He cleaned the brush in a small cup of water and left it to dry on the easel. To my pleasure he joined me on the chaise. Running his nose up the sensitive skin of my ear, he said, "You're welcome. Thank you for the inspiration."

  I shivered, and he ran his hand up and down my arm for warmth. He’d relaxed immensely while working, the strain gone from his jaw and forehead. Grant stretched his legs and in a swift motion I felt myself plucked from my spot on the couch and repositioned facing Grant, straddled across his lap.

  Nice.

  "Hey," I said to his very close face. I found my hands traveling over his cheeks- marveling for the millionth time at the way his skin stretched over his perfectly formed bones.

  "Hi," he murmured in return. His eyes were closed and he wore a look of peace on his face as he basked in my touch.

  "I enjoyed today. Getting a peek inside your world. It was nice," I told him, kissing him softly near his ear.

  "Good. I like you being here," he replied turning his head, allowing me better access.

  My feet were behind him, hanging over the back edge of the chaise, and it was when I shifted my weight to gain some balance that I felt it. Or rather: him.

  His eyes popped open at my movement, and I could see the discomfort running through them as he quickly diverted his gaze. I quirked an eyebrow at his embarrassed, yet eternally pale face.

  "Really?" I asked, ecstatic at the power I held over the intensity of his arousal.

  Refocusing on my eyes, he mirrored my expression with his own perfectly arched brow, but said nothing, refusing to discuss what I'm sure he thought was an inappropriate conversation for us to have.

  He sighed and laughed bitterly. "It's been quite a while, Amelia."

  His honesty shocked me.

  "What exactly do you mean by ‘a while’?" I ran my hands down the front of his chest, feeling the sharp curves and outlines of his muscles beneath the soft fabric.

  Instead of answering, Grant leaned toward my face and pressed his lips against my own. I responded eagerly. Nothing made me as happy as having Grant's lips on mine. He tasted wonderful. He ran his fingers up my sides which caused me to laugh and squirm on his lap.

  Oh, yeah. Ouch. That thing was hard.

  I pulled my lips off his quickly, which had an effect similar to ripping off a band aid, painful but necessary, and said, “I asked you a question.”

  He scowled at my question and eyed my mouth greedily, but I wasn't giving in. I waited stubbornly for his response.

  Sighing, he rested his forehead on my own. "I don't know, Amelia. Sometimes the past should stay that way.”

  I shook my head and pushed my hands over his shoulders, curling my fingers into his hair. "No secrets.”

  "You read my journals—I have no secrets from you. The best I can tell you is that others may have shared my bed but none have stolen my heart. Only you.”

  I blinked. “You did not just say that?”

  “What? It’s true.”

  “Of course it is. Only you would experience romance exactly as it’s described on a Hallmark card.” I narrowed my eyes. “Okay then, tell me about a relationship that meant something to you.”

  He grimaced at my persistence, but I could see the subtle lifting of his lips which proved he wasn't as frustrated as he was insinuating. "It wasn’t right away. The desire for blood pretty much consumed most of my time, but once I had it under control those urges returned. During one of the times I left the family, I met another vampire with similar views on life.”

  “Oh, interesting. Tell me.”

  His eyes tightened at my question. I knew sharing his vampire nature with me was difficult. He wanted to shield me from the reality of their make-up. "As you know, the lifestyle my coven has chosen is rare. The fact we live in homes and pursue education or jobs is almost unheard of. A group our size living together peacefully is extremely unusual. Most vampires travel alone or in pairs—possibly with a mate. Occasionally though, we meet others receptive to our lifestyle.”

  He hesitated, and I could see the worry in his eyes. "Grant, I'm not going to judge you. We both had lives before we met the other. And I'm happy to tell you mine if you want, but yours is much more fascinating," I said with a grin, "Tell me more. Tell me what happened."

  “I met a female vampire who I was very compatible with.”

  “Compatible?” I asked.

  “Most importantly she fed from animals like I did—that’s sort of a deal breaker for us—obviously. She loved adventure, particularly sports and hunting. She had an extensive library and an appreciation of art. She was a good companion.”

  Companion. Not mate. I was learning the difference in those words. I played with the buttons on his black shirt, allowing my fingers to dip in between and brush against his hard chest. I asked the inevitable question, "Let me guess, she looked
like a supermodel?”

  I didn't want to be jealous, but I was all the same.

  "Hmmm…" he mused. "I wouldn't know. Once I met you, all other women pale in comparison. It's really quite sad for them." And his mouth rearranged into his most stunning and adorable grin.

  Heat rose on my cheeks, flattered by his silly comment. "Whatever, Grant. Stop trying to distract me…"

  "Katerina and I got along very well. She was smart and fun, and when my family came to visit, they very much wanted us to be together. They were positive this was the person I had waited for during all those long years. And for some reason I convinced myself that they were right. After so many years alone, I was willing to persevere with Katerina. I wanted what others had, love and partnership."

  "Why didn't it work?" I asked.

  "I didn't love her, which wasn't fair because she did love me. I felt like I was using her." I leaned into him and wrapped my arms around his body. Squeezing me back tightly, he said, "Amelia, I'm not going to give you all the details, but I tried. Desperately.”

  "I’m sure you did and it’s okay. Not every match is the one that lasts forever."

  "There’s something else—something that makes it all the more complicated.”

  “What?”

  “You’re aware of my ability to compel those around me?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked down. “There have been women I was with that I freely used this compulsion on. I never used it to harm them, but I played on their emotions. Got them to admit to their likes and desires. In the beginning I used compulsion on Katerina, just a means to understand her better. But as we became closer it always felt tainted. Was her love true? I think it was, but I’ll never know for sure.”

  I considered this situation. I thought back to my own experiences of finding new loves, the worries of being enough, the embarrassing thoughts of infatuation, but also wondering if I was attractive enough, experienced enough. I thought back to the bad times: when I was going through the motions, yet had fallen out of love. I thought about Grant and how my feelings for him were so intense, how I day-dreamed about his hands, his long graceful fingers, and my intense longing for his touch. My neck grew warm, and I cursed the tell-tale redness that flamed up my body.

  Grant ran his thumbs slowly down my sides, again causing me to shiver. "See, like right now, I did nothing to manipulate your arousal," he mused. "Yet it’s there anyway."

  I smiled. He was so darn cute, I couldn't help myself. "Yeah, you had a little bit to do with it,” I mumbled.

  "Yeah?"

  Once again I could feel his interest under the thin layer of my shorts.

  “I have to confess that it’s been a while for me, too, although, I don't recall the others being quite so hard," I said with a grimace. I had been around men before. Naked men. Not a lot, but enough. Even buffered between the fabric of my shorts and Grants pants, I could tell he was different.

  His face fell, and he spoke in a rush, "Amelia I'm sorry. I told you we had to be careful. This isn't a good idea."

  “No.” I held him still. “It feels good. Amazing—please don’t stop.”

  His lips were instantly on my neck and his hands were tickling my sides. A move he knew by now would result in me squirming in his lap.

  "Where's your family?" I breathed as he kissed my lips, carefully, always carefully, and I twisted the buttons of his shirt under my fingers, slipping them out of their holes.

  "Gone," he said against my flesh. He lifted my body and crushed me against the soft cushions. My left arm was pinned over my head and his body pressed down on me, pushing me into the padding. Closing my eyes, my hips rose to meet his.

  I heard a low whimper, and my eyes snapped open, focusing on the anguished scowl on Grant's hovering face. His pupils were dilated, and the violet of his eyes was wild. I realized the noise had come from him.

  "Are you okay?" I whispered, fear flooding my senses. But instead of escaping, I found my hand reaching out to stroke his hair and face, in an effort to calm him.

  "Yes… no…yes," he stuttered and he crumbled, dropping his head onto my heaving chest in defeat. We lay together, stacked on the couch for some time. Grant turning his head so his ear was directly over my heart. He had released my wrist from his grasp and ran his thumb down to my pulse as he regained his composure. I continued my ministrations, weaving my fingers in his thick, soft hair until he was ready.

  Without lifting his head Grant finally spoke. "Amelia, that was…." He didn't complete his thought, but I knew where he was going.

  Terrible? Horrible? Dangerous? Pick one or all three.

  "Progress?" I dared. "Last time you bolted clear across the couch; this time you stayed. Things are better." He looked at me skeptically, but didn't move, which I took as a sign of encouragement.

  We stayed this way for a while longer before I pushed Grant up, making him move his body away from mine. I slithered out from underneath him and stood. I motioned for him to roll over, and I crawled on top, effectively reversing our positions. "Is this alright?" I asked and was relieved when he nodded.

  He had one long leg on the sofa and one balanced on the floor. His shirt was still open, and I could see the hardened beauty of his stomach. Distress was etched on his face, his eyes dark and flashing. "I'm sorry. The line between my blood lust and physical lust is marginal. Things were blurry for a second." He paused. "I don't really know how to say this, but when I was with Katerina, things were very, well, we let our basic instincts take over. This is not possible with you, and I'm not sure how to balance the difference."

  Jealousy burned in my stomach at his confession—at the thought of him with another woman that way, in a way we hadn’t figured out. He must have realized this, and his hand reached to cup my face. "I shouldn't have said that."

  "No. You should have," I told him squelching the envy. "You and I aren't the same as you and Katerina. No couple is the same; you can't compare. We have to figure out what works for us."

  As I said this, I considered the fact he was sitting below me with his hair in full sexy disarray, half-undressed, and taunting me. I decided not to let this moment pass us. I couldn't suppress the smile forming on my lips as I asked, "Grant, do you trust me?"

  "Of course," he replied without hesitation.

  "I mean, really trust me. As in, I want to do something, but you have to let go of the control and have complete faith in me," I said this slowly, unsure if he could actually do it.

  He nodded, swallowing lightly as if he was repressing his need for power over everything. I ran my fingers down his chest and said, "Good. Let me set the pace…and let me know if it's too much. I promise to take it slow."

  As I began my decent on his body, Grant was frozen into place, his hands clutching the sides of the cushion. I ignored his apprehension, instead using his still form as my playground to explore. My lips connected with his solid body, licking and sucking from his neck down to his hip. The pressure of his erection was distracting, causing my body to react, seeking friction on the spot where his body met the seam of my shorts. Straightening for a moment, but still rocking gently against him, I peeled off my T-shirt and dropped it to the floor.

  Grant's eyes widened at the sight of my bra. My eyes followed his to see the slight swell of my breasts restrained in black silk. Reaching for his hands, I found they were still grasping the edge of the chair with such force he had dug into the sides of the wood. "Grant, let go…" I prodded, and he reluctantly released the sofa from his grip. Guiding his hands to the sides of my breasts, I nodded encouragingly.

  "Touch me..." I commanded in a whisper and with relief his hands moved over the slick fabric to trace the nipple beneath.

  The quiet of the house had been replaced by my labored breathing and the hushed sounds of our hands exploring one another. Craving more, I leaned over and placed my hands over his shoulders, bracing myself on the back of the cushion in an attempt to seek friction. I slowly moved over Grant's clothed erection
. Every time his cock made contact with the right spot, my body felt the bursts of pleasure—even through the barrier of the material.

  Grant groaned beneath me, and I refused to look in his eyes. If I saw anguish or pain I would stop. I didn't want to stop. With my chin up and eyes closed, I felt his palms on my breasts, pulling on my bra until he'd freed them. I gasped with surprise when he sat up and touched my nipple with his cool tongue, igniting a bolt of electricity to run straight down my body. The heat landed deep in my belly.

  For a moment, everything fell into place. We were in sync, working together, no pasts, no future—just two bodies in motion, craving the same release. I bit down on my grin, grunting in desire. I pressed my body into his, close to the edge and the waves of pleasure that rolled over my skin. Over and over they crashed until I slipped past coherency.

  Overcome by weakness, I hung onto the edge of the cushion in an attempt to remain upright. Sensitive and raw, I was relieved when Grant finally shuddered beneath me, hissing deep in his throat. His body jerked with silent, seething, spasms of pleasure under the cover of his pants.

  I had dry-humped Grant Palmer and survived. I opened one eye to assess his mood. I found him with his head back, peacefully watching me with a lazy grin on his face. His hands found the straps of my bra and slipped them back over my shoulders. Then he straightened the cups, putting everything back in its proper order, because of course he did.

  Smiling back, I pressed my damp forehead to his and he kissed me softly on the lips. I was ecstatic that we had surpassed this hurdle. I wasn't sure how much further we could push it, but at least we knew this much.

  "I think I ruined Genevieve's chair," he said, breaking the quiet and running his hands over my bare back.

  I giggled and said, “Will she be upset?”

  "Probably but it was worth it," he said, pulling me into his body where I willingly surrendered into chest and arms. "Definitely. Worth it." Relief passed through me, not just from what had just transpired between us, but from the fact Grant was moving forward, one step at a time.