by Evelyn Glass
“At the rate you’re tipping back drinks, I won’t need to drug you.”
I’d had a few drinks, but I was nowhere close to drunk. Having a drink in my hand made me feel less nervous. Jasper had introduced me to a few people as his girlfriend as soon as we’d arrived, and suddenly I was being quizzed on how we’d met and what “our song” was. It was too much. I’d decided the night would be much easier to handle if I saw it all through a thin haze of alcohol. So far, I was right.
“I’m fine,” I said, taking a few steps in a straight line to prove it.
Suddenly, the glass was out of my hand and sitting on the table, and Jasper had his arm looped around me, pulling me towards the center of the room.
“Hey,” I said, protesting slightly.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, still looking straight ahead at the dance floor ahead of us. “I thought you were walking towards the dance floor.”
“Well, I wasn’t. You can let me go stand in the corner again,” I said, half-turning back to my hiding spot along the wall.
Being a wallflower was really what I’d always been best at. I’d gone to winter formal my junior year of high school and been scarred ever since. My date ditched me for one of my best friends, and I spent the entire evening watching them rub their genitals together under the disco ball, trying not to cry.
“My girlfriend would want to dance with me,” he said, a gentle reminder of the role I was supposed to be playing.
I sighed. “Fine, but if you reel me in on your imaginary fishing line, I’m leaving.”
We were standing in the middle of the room, and I felt countless pairs of eyes on us. The music had switched to a slow country song, and Jasper slid his arm behind my back and pulled me up against him. He smelled like firewood and cinnamon, and I resisted the urge to bury my face in his chest and take a deep breath.
We swayed back and forth, his large hand wrapped around mine, his other hand gently pushing into my lower back, guiding me in the right direction.
“This isn’t so bad, right?” he asked, whispering in my ear.
A shiver ran down my spine, but I ignored it. “It’s bearable.”
The truth was, Jasper was a spectacular dancer. He wasn’t showy the way some of the other men were, twirling their partners around as if they were rag dolls. He led with a dignified kind of ease that spoke to his confidence. Even though our relationship was entirely fake, I enjoyed the jealousy rolling off of the single women who lined the floor like spectators.
“You know, I regret the way we met.”
Jasper’s voice broke me out of my thoughts, and I looked up at him. That was a mistake. Under the party lights, his eyes looked like perfect pools I wanted to dive into. A shadow cut across his cheekbone, making him look even more chiseled than usual, and his suit was molded perfectly to his body. He reminded me of professional soccer players post-game – all the muscle and athleticism of an athlete with the wardrobe of a male model.
What had he said? I looked down at our feet, and with his annoyingly symmetrical face out of sight, I remembered. “Yeah, witnessing a murder wasn’t high on my to-do list.”
Jasper leaned in closer as if trying to block the sound of my voice with his body. “Perhaps we shouldn’t say things like that in public, sweetheart.”
He squeezed me tighter to him, and I got the message. I nodded, a silent surrender.
“I just meant,” he said, taking a deep breath as if the words pained him. “You seem nice, and I wish we could have met under different circumstances.”
I wanted to believe him, partly because it would make pretending to be his girlfriend easier and partly because he looked so good saying it, but I knew I shouldn’t. I had no reason to trust Jasper Black, and he had every reason to try and deceive me. I didn’t know how to respond, but I was saved the trouble of thinking of a response by a tap on my shoulder.
I turned to find an incredibly tall man towering over me, his mouth pulled back in a villainous smile. “May I cut in?”
“Uhmm…” I turned back to Jasper, unsure what to do.
Jasper’s mouth was set in a straight line. He looked like a guitar string that had been stretched too tight.
“One song?” the man asked, tilting his head to the side.
Jasper squeezed my hand tight, winked at me, and walked away. Though, I noticed he didn’t stray too far.
The man spun me into his arms and danced as far away from Jasper as he could.
“You are Jasper’s girlfriend?” the man asked, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.
Something about the man made me uncomfortable. Everything about him felt like a challenge. For whatever reason, he felt he had power over me, and I didn’t like it. I stepped away from him ever so slightly, putting more distance between our bodies.
“Who are you exactly?” I asked.
He smiled. “That isn’t important, Marin.”
The distance between us suddenly felt insufficient. I didn’t even think an entire ballroom between us would be enough.
“You seem to know who I am. Knowing your name would only be fair,” I said, hoping my discomfort didn’t show.
“I’m sure Jasper will inform you later,” the man said, tugging me to him until we were chest to chest. He bent down and pressed his lips against my ear. “I like your dress.” He swiped his hand down my spine, and then spun me away from him in the direction of Jasper. When I turned around, he was already off the dance floor and headed for the exit.
Jasper was at my side, guiding me towards the tables along the edge of the room. “What did he say?” he asked.
I jerked my hand away from him, tired of being directed around the room. “I can walk,” I said.
He held up his hands in surrender. “What did he say?” he repeated.
“Nothing.”
Jasper stopped and looked at me. “What did he say?”
“Nothing,” I repeated, annunciating each letter. “He asked if I was your girlfriend and said he liked my dress.”
This answer seemed to satisfy him. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Why? Who was he?”
“No one.”
I stopped walking. “No, we aren’t going to operate like this. I need to know what is going on, and what I’m risking.”
His shoulders heaved with nervous energy. “I’ll tell you when we’re in the car,” he said, casting a glance around the room.
I noticed a few couples watching us. I couldn’t know whether Jasper was telling the truth, but he wouldn’t talk about anything illegal in front of all of these people, so I had to trust him.
As we stood outside, waiting for the valet to bring Jasper’s car around, he kept spinning on the spot as if he were looking for someone.
“You’re making me nervous,” I whispered.
He stilled, and then crossed and uncrossed his arms.
The valet was young, no older than college-aged, and he got out of Jasper’s car with a wide grin on his face. “This is an amazing car, man,” he said, handing Jasper the keys. Then he looked at me, his eyes roving slowly from my high heels to my breasts.
Jasper didn’t say anything as he took the keys and opened the door for me. I slipped inside, grateful for the dark tinted windows.
“So, who was that?” I asked as we pulled away, merging with the traffic.
Jasper chuckled. “You are eager.”
“That man knew my name, and he didn’t seem like the neighborly type. I deserve to know if I’m in danger.”
“First things first,” Jasper said, “you are not in danger. That guy is a joke. He is all bark, no bite.”
“Who is that guy though?”
“He’s the leader of the Jagged Jackals.”
I waited for him to explain further, but after a few seconds, it became clear he wasn’t going to expand. “Is that a motorcycle club?”
Jasper glanced at me and then back to the road. “Yeah, it is. Sorry, I sometimes forget you don’t know about this world.”
Jasper laughed. “Weird is subjective, I guess.”
“What was he doing at the gala?” I asked, trying to get back on topic.
Jasper breezed through a yellow light going at least fifteen over the speed limit. “You know the body you saw last night?”
Last night? Had it really only been twenty-four hours? “Yeah.”
“He was a member of the Jackals, and I’m sure Angel didn’t appreciate me killing his guy.”
“His name is Angel?” The man was the furthest thing from angelic.
“It’s a nickname. A bit ironic.”
Just then, Jasper got into the far-left lane to whip around a slow-moving car in front of us.
“Hey, that’s the turn to my house,” I said, turning in my seat to watch as the interstate ramp disappeared behind us.
“You aren’t going back to your house.”
“Yes, I am.” I turned to him, my dress riding up my thigh from all the shifting in my seat.
He shook his head. “Angel was making a threat tonight. He could be following us, and I don’t want him to know where you live.”
“So, do I just never go home? And what about Kayla? She’s home alone.”
“Kayla is fine,” Jasper said, a touch of unexplained annoyance in his voice. “And you’ll go home tomorrow. It’s just too dangerous tonight.”
“So, am I going to a hotel?” I asked, though I felt I already knew the answer.
“No.” Jasper turned north towards the Woodlands neighborhood. “You’re going to my house.”
Chapter Eight
Marin
Jasper’s house was as nice as I’d imagined. A wrought iron gate parted as we drove up, and we followed a semi-circular driveway up to the imposing stone house. It was all glass panes, concrete, and dark wood. Very modern and crisp. It reminded me of Jasper.
A wooden garage door opened, and Jasper pulled inside, the door immediately closing behind us.
Suddenly, I felt trapped. I wondered whether Jasper had brought me back to his house to do away with me the way he’d no doubt done away with others.
“You can relax,” he said, breaking the silence as he turned off the car and got out, stretching outside the door.
“I’m fine,” I said, smoothing down my dress, so it covered at least half of my thighs.
“Your knuckles are practically white.” He gestured to my hands folded in my lap. “I’m bringing you here to protect you, not to harm you.”
It was hard to imagine Jasper as a protector. Everything about him spoke of his strength and ferocity. Still, I knew I had very little choice in the matter, so I slipped out of the car and followed him. The garage was large, and in the space next to the car sat a motorcycle, all chrome and shiny black in the limited light of the garage. A matching helmet sat on the seat, branded with the crossing red horns of the Hellions.
“The car is for work events,” he said. “If I could, I’d only ever ride the bike.”
I’d only been on a motorcycle once as a little girl. My grandfather had one. It was bright yellow and bulky, nothing like the clean lines and aerodynamic design of Jasper’s bike. I imagined him whipping through Houston traffic on it, flying past people like a shadow.
Once inside, Jasper kicked off his shiny black shoes by the front door, and I followed suit, leaving my heels next to the welcome mat and padding after him towards the kitchen. Wood floors stretched out in every direction, and it felt like I was in some kind of playhouse maze.
“Big house.”
“How observant,” he responded.
I’d always been considered the “funny one” amongst my friends. The person with the whip-snap comebacks. But Jasper was giving me a serious run for my money. What exactly couldn’t this man do?
Funny? Check.
Rich? Check.
Attractive? Double check.
Controlling? Triple Check.
Protective? To be determined.
He took off his suit jacket and threw it over a bar stool in the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
I shook my head. The shrimp I’d eaten at the gala had been churning in my nervous stomach the entire drive to his house. If I ate anything else, I was certain I’d throw up.
He reached into a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. “Me either.”
“I’m not really thirsty, either.”
His mouth turned down in an annoyingly sexy frown as he poured me a drink and slid it across the granite-topped island towards me. “It’s no fun to drink alone.”
“Then don’t drink,”
He swirled his glass and then took a small sip, smacking his lips together once. “Are you always this hostile?”
Was this guy serious? He was blackmailing me. He’d forced me to strip in the back room of his restaurant – basically, the least sexy place on Earth. He’d killed someone. How did he expect me to act?
“Am I supposed to fawn all over you?” I asked, taking a sip of the bourbon despite my earlier protests. It felt like silk going down and had a hint of caramel.
He shrugged and sat his glass down to unbutton the top three buttons of his shirt, exposing his golden chest and an array of tattoos. “Most women do.”
“Do you force most women to strip for you? Or threaten their lives?”
“Maybe I do,” he said, raising one eyebrow. “Is this really so horrible? I bought you a one-of-a-kind dress you look phenomenal in. I took you to a fancy gala with all the richest people in Houston. Now, I bring you back to my house and serve you what is, no doubt, the most expensive glass of bourbon you’ve ever had. You should be thanking me.”
I sputtered, nearly choking on the alcohol sliding down my throat. “Thanking you? Are you insane?”
He tilted his head to the side as though I were a particularly interesting science experiment, a strand of black hair falling onto his forehead.
“You’re a criminal forcing me to be your girlfriend. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want a fancy dress. Or expensive alcohol. I don’t want to knock elbows with a bunch of stuck-up rich people.”
Jasper moved around the island towards me, and I knew I should back away, maybe even run, but I couldn’t. His blue eyes were on me, pinning me to the spot. If this were a nature documentary, I’d be the helpless antelope in the sights of the cheetah. It wasn’t a question of if, but when he would strike.
He took the glass out of my hand and sat it on the island and pushed me back against the countertop. The cold granite bit into my exposed lower back as he put his hands on either side of me. He pressed his hips into mine until our lower halves were flush with one another. I felt the heat rolling off of him, and my breath hitched in my chest.
I looked away in a desperate attempt to regain composure. Just as I did, he grabbed my chin in his hand, his fingers squeezing my jaw. He leaned forward until I could smell the bourbon on his breath.
“What do you want, Marin?”
I didn’t dare move, even to breathe. Making any sort of movement could propel me in a direction I wasn’t sure I was ready to take. I needed to step away from him, clear my head. I needed fresh air and less alcohol in my bloodstream and time. I needed an infinite amount of time to forget how good it felt to have Jasper’s weight pressing down on me.
It didn’t matter though. Jasper could surely feel the desire leaking out of me against my permission. He leaned down to me, moving unbearably slow. Painfully slow. Finally, his lips grazed mine, awakening nerves I didn’t know I had.
A moment later, we were crashing together. His lips were brutal on mine, but I clung to him. It was like riding a mechanical bull – something I’d done at my aunt’s third bachelorette party – even though the ride was dangerous and my b
rain screamed at me to let go, I couldn’t. My body knew better.
His hands pressed into my sides and traced a crushing trail down to my hips. His lips left mine, and I gasped for air. Jasper trailed kisses down my jaw and neck, and I wondered if he could feel my heart beats fluttering against his lips.
Suddenly, the clasp of my dress was undone, and Jasper’s hands were peeling the lacy material down my body. I stepped out of the dress as it pooled on the floor around my ankles, and Jasper picked me up, setting me on the cold countertop. A chill ran down my spine, but I ignored the goosebumps blossoming on my skin and wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him into me.
