Sadly, that isn’t the case, and I can hear his voice yelling, “Come back to Boston!” before I’m able to disconnect.
Instantly, my phone vibrates with our vacation picture again. But I do what I should have the first time—I turn off the device and toss it into my bag. Fuck it. I’d sooner sit here staring at the wall than answer another of Neil’s calls.
The echoing clack of heels against the marble flooring draws my attention to the woman walking across the lobby to the front entrance of the hotel. Walking is an understatement. She practically pierces the marble floor with her angry stomping in her stilettos. She wears a cornflower-blue strappy dress that sways above her knees as she walks and hugs her thin yet curvy frame.
But it is the angry scowl drawn across her otherwise beautiful face that draws my attention. She walks by me speaking to someone on her phone, and I can’t help but overhear her “fucking asshole” comment to whomever she is talking to on the other end. At that moment, I feel like we are kismet strangers, and I want to give her a fist pump and yell, “Girl power, and yeah, they’re all assholes!” But it was the “Jaxon, that’s who,” response that pulls in my attention.
The mention of his name gets my interest, and I angle my body so that I can better eavesdrop on her conversation. It might not be one of my finest moments, but better to listen to someone else’s drama than deal with my own. Besides, I want to know who this enraged woman is. Is this woman his girlfriend—or worse—his wife? No wonder he changed his tune as soon as Zach came around. He didn’t want his philandering ways to get back to this woman.
I strain to hear the one-sided conversation a little better, trying to be inconspicuous as I lean over the arm of the chair in which I am sitting. Thankfully there is no one else in the lobby at this hour, and the mystery woman's attention is on the street outside as she speaks.
“No, he had his fricking lap dog Kap call me.”
Kap? I’ll have to remember to ask Shellie if that is her aunt. It doesn’t seem like it’s a common name, or even nickname. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out why her aunt would be calling this woman for Jaxon.
“So I rush over here because he was in some desperate need. Stupidly I thought it was a desperate need to see me. And when I get here, nothing. Abso-fucking-lutly nothing.”
Aaugh… there is a long pause with a few yeahs tossed in while the person on the other end speaks. It’s killing me not knowing what the other person is saying. I’m thinking it would be rude of me to ask.
“I was down on my knees with his …”
I nearly fall off the chair I was precariously perched on as the conversation dies, and I adjust myself just in time to see her jump into a black town car, practically before it even comes to a full stop out front.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hear Shellie ask as I try to unsuccessfully right myself back onto the chair.
“Does Jaxon have a girlfriend, or maybe a wife or something?” The words are out of my mouth before I can even stop them. Shellie scrunches her eyebrows together and looks at me like I’m insane.
“Umm, what are you talking about?”
“Nothing. I just overheard this really bizarre conversation with his date, or whatever. Are you ready to go? I’m fricken beat.” I stand and walk to the door, unable to get the mystery woman’s conversation out of my head. I need to know what happened, and I can’t just tune in next week like it’s an episode of The Bachelor. I’m just left not knowing, with a dozen possible scenarios swirling around in my head.
We, of course, don’t have a black town car to take us home, not that Shellie isn’t able to have one. That’s just not her style. Thankfully, this being New York City, a cab pulls up as soon as we step onto the nearly deserted street. I jump in after Shellie as she chats endlessly about... well, I can’t tell you because my gaze is captivated by the man running through the lobby. Jaxon.
The ride to our brownstone will only take a few minutes at this early hour. Shellie and I sit in a strange silence that is entirely unusual for us. Usually, she’ll be the one talking a mile a minute about her shift, or some new gossip she’s heard. But instead, tonight she just sits there looking over at me as if she wants to say something.
If I am completely honest, her silence is freaking me out a little. “What?” I finally ask as we exit the cab in front of our apartment.
“Nothing, I just…” She pauses as if she doesn’t know what to say, and that is entirely out of character for Shellie. She always has more to say than anyone, and typically says whatever is on her mind, sometimes to people’s misguided surprise. “I didn’t realize you ever met Jaxon, that’s all.”
“He came up to Rise tonight.” I try to keep my voice relaxed, like it’s no big deal that a handsome billionaire, owner of everything, just stopped by for a drink. Sadly, I fail.
I fumble around in my bag, digging out the keys to our apartment when I feel her hand on my shoulder. “Stay away from Jaxon Krieger. He’s—”
“Moody,” I interrupt, repeating what Leif mentioned earlier almost verbatim.
*~*~*
By the time we walk into the apartment, I’m not in the mood for small talk or even hearing mention of Jaxon’s name. No, all I want to do is go to bed and forget this entire strange night ever happened. Which was precisely what I don’t do. Instead, I lie in bed, playing the whole night over and over in my head.
I want to be angry, or at the very least, not completely enamored by him. But all I keep seeing is his handsome face and his almost playful smile, not to mention the way his eyes lingered on my body. Those eyes and sultry voice have my mind wandering to places it has no business going. I want to see what he keeps under that suit that costs more than my rent back in Boston.
I close my eyes and let my mind wander to thoughts of Jaxon and hands roaming down my body. I think about his encounter with the beautiful woman from the lobby and how I heard her say she was on her knees.
I’m not usually one to play subservient to a lover, but Jaxon exudes a dominance I have never seen nor felt before. I picture myself down on my knees before him, looking up as he wraps my hair around his fist, pulling my head back, so my mouth falls willingly open for him.
My fingers move past my panties and find my clit. I am already so wet, my desire coats my fingers. I circle my clit with my finger and let out a quiet moan as I think about how Jaxon would tease my lips with the thick head of his cock. Closing my eyes tightly, I slide two fingers inside as I imagine his thick girth sliding past my lips — his dominating hand on the back of my head, guiding himself into my mouth.
My fingers mimic the rhythm in my fantasy, and the deeper and quicker he plunges into my willing mouth, the quicker my fingers move in and out of my tightness. I imagine him taking my mouth roughly, my fingers digging into the tight flesh of his perfect ass. My fantasy Jaxon will give me no warning, other than telling me he wants me to taste his cum as he shoots his release down my throat.
As I picture him coming in my mouth, my back arches off the bed as my orgasm rips through my body. I am panting as I roll over, pulling the comforter up around my neck. Fuck, I need to get laid.
I lie there, for I can’t tell you how long, thinking about Jaxon and that beautiful mystery woman from the lobby. Is she his type? Is that what men are looking for? Tall, sexy, and always put together, unlike me, whose life is literally in shambles.
I let out a deep, frustrated sigh as I think about the mess I made. I am a hot second away from being thirty, with no career, no fiancé, and an unhealthy obsession with my boss. Which, if I’ve learned anything, is not a good situation in which to find myself.
When sleep finally does claim me, my dreams are dark, cryptic, and strange, with Jaxon front and center.
JAXON
My stupidity knows no bounds tonight, or so it would seem as I stand outside Maitlin’s brownstone apartment. I lean against the light post just opposite her place and watch as she exits the cab with her friend, Kap’s niece, Shel
lie.
I didn’t have to ask or do much research on where she lives after the conversation with Kap. Her mere mention that Maitlin is living with her niece, and I know exactly where to look for her. I purchased the brownstone years ago for Kap’s mother, Shellie’s grandmother.
I lurk in the darkness and watch transfixed by her beauty as she ascends the stone stairs to the front door. She briefly pauses as Shellie scoots in before her and looks over her shoulder, scanning the surrounding area. She doesn’t only look at street level, she looks skyward. What or who is she looking for?
The simple action has me questioning more about who she is. Has she sensed the presence of a predator? Something dark and dangerous lurking in the shadows of darkness, or is she merely surveying her surroundings? I recall earlier in the evening when she took a few tentative steps away from me just as my anger at Zach flared. I dismissed it as a heightened human nature to her fight or flight reflex, but now I’m not so sure.
I feel my phone buzz within my pocket, pulling my attention away from Maitlin’s door. The text is from… speak of the devil himself, Zach.
Z: Where the duck are you?
Z: Duck
Z: Duck
Z: I hate this phone.
Me: I’m out.
Z: Out where? I saw that hottie of yours, Dannella, come through the bar.
Me: Just out. Is there a point to this?
I watch as the three little dots jump. It isn’t like I am going to tell him that I followed Maitlin home, and am now outside her apartment like some deranged lunatic. I’ll never hear the end of it.
Z: Yeah, it’s about Gabe. I said I needed to talk to you. He’s missing. Call me when you’re not “out.”
I need to get my fucking head on straight and get back to my structured, organized, and uncomplicated life. Or is it just an existence? I picture Maitlin’s beautiful blue eyes staring up at me from our bed. The thought springs into my head as if maybe there can be something more, something meaningful.
My delusional thoughts of domesticity are interrupted when I catch the scent of something… off. While a Blood Angel's sense of smell will never be as good as someone with Leif’s heritage, it is still thousands of times better than that of a human. I am not the only predator out tonight who has decided to take up residency in the murkiness of the shadows.
I can’t quite identify the smell, but it isn’t entirely human, and it most definitely is malevolent. The scent is faint, and I have to wonder if anyone but a Blood Angel or a shifter can smell it. Then the tang of something slightly demonic hits my nose, and I know it is no coincidence that they are here.
I silently curse under my breath as I make my way down the deserted street. After all, it is nearly four in the morning, and even in the city that never sleeps, there aren’t many out. At least not in this neighborhood. I don’t even bother to try to hide as I do so. There are very few creatures who can hold their own against someone like myself. Aside from being trained as a warrior since the time of my birth, Themis endowed her Blood Angel creations with several other formidable survival skills.
My fangs lengthen, and I salivate at the thought of a fresh kill, something I haven’t allowed myself for quite some time. After all, I am a businessman, not a vigilante. Most Blood Angels or vampires, as we are more commonly called in folklore, prefer to keep a low profile. Or as low as possible. I surmise that being one of the richest men in the world is arguably not keeping a low profile, nor is Zachriel’s rock star fame. But our nocturnal tendencies are kept entirely secret.
The black BMW SUV is parked across the street, not far down from Maitlin’s apartment, and the man sitting in it is blissfully unaware his role has changed from predator to prey. I move with precision and speed, and stand just out of view from the SUV. It is summer and a warm evening, so the windows are partially rolled down, allowing air to circulate through the vehicle. It also gives me an unobstructed view into the car. I’m not Superman, so x-ray vision isn’t among my skillset.
I am not one to kill indiscriminately, regardless of how hungry I am, and there is nothing but the feeling in my gut that this creature is here to harm Maitlin, so I wait. There are still a few hours before dawn, and I have time to kill—pun intended.
I don’t have to wait long to get my answer as to why he is sitting not fifty yards from her front door. His phone rings, and I listen. With my superior hearing, I can easily hear both sides of the conversation.
“Is she home yet?” the voice on the other side of the line spouts in place of any greeting.
“She and the other chick just went in about a half-hour ago.”
Rage courses through my veins, and I don’t know where the strength to keep listening comes from. All I want to do is rip this asshole's throat out and bleed him dry simply based on the confirmation that he is, indeed, watching Maitlin and her friend.
“Did you go through the house as I asked you?”
“Yeah, I didn’t find anything.”
“And no one was there?” the voice on the other end asks.
“I’ve been here all fucking day, Neil. No one has come or gone but those two.”
The fucker was inside her apartment. I clench my fists and inhale deeply to try to calm my animalistic side, but it is nearly impossible to tamp it down. I am going to kill this unlucky stranger, painfully. And who the fuck is Neil?
“I’m gonna give it another hour, until I know they’re both asleep. I unlocked the alley door and a window, just in case they check doors before going to bed. Then I’ll go in and get her. We should be back in Boston about nine,” the soon-to-be-dead bastard informs.
“Call me when you have her. If you so much as harm a hair on Maitlin’s head, I will kill you without a second thought. Am I making myself clear?” the voice snaps.
“Yes, sir. I won’t hurt her. I’ve got the chloroform to knock her out. But what if the other girl wakes up?”
“I don’t give a shit about the other girl. Do what you need to with her, just get Maitlin back here.”
He isn’t going to have the opportunity to take what is mine. Fuck, where did that come from? Mine. I have known her for less than an hour. Yet here I am outside her apartment, about to kill a man, for threatening her saftey.
I am also sworn to protect Kap’s family, and that includes her niece. Not to mention the fact that both women work for my company. I should get an award for the boss of the year. After all, that’s why I am concerned. She’s a good employee… Who the fuck am I trying to kid?
I don’t have the time to analyze my motives right this second. I walk up to the passenger side of the car and tap my knuckles against the window. He rolls it down the rest of the way, and I look inside.
“Step out of the car, please, sir.” I give him my best good cop imitation, but he is going to see my lousy cop imitation regardless. But I figure I’ll start nice.
He looks me up and down and smirks. “Fuck you. You ain't no cop.” Well, he’s got me there.
“Fair enough, but remember, I did ask nicely.” I am in the car with my hand pressed against his throat before he can even take his next breath. I smile down at him, revealing my sharp fangs, and the sweet stench of his fear permeates my nostrils. “You want to tell me why the fuck you're skulking outside my girl’s apartment?”
“Fuck you,” he chokes out. I’m a bit surprised at his audacity in telling me to fuck off. Most would be slightly shocked at a vampire about to suck them dry. He is more familiar with those of us who go bump in the night than I gave him credit for.
I inhale his stench again. He is one hundred percent, dirt-bag human. Whatever demonic scent lingering on him is from close contact, not genetics. Which was even better for me, as I don’t much care for demon blood. I squeeze his neck a bit tighter.
I look into his eyes and ask my question again. The human mind is so easy to control, it is actually considered a crime among most in the Blood Angel society to manipulate such a feeble mind. I feel his body relax as his mind begin
s to cooperate.
I loosen my grip only slightly and ask again, “Now, why are you here?”
“I need to bring the girl to Neil.”
“Why?” I more or less growl out my question.
I hate that he is so vague with his answer, but he may know nothing but to come here and fetch the girl and bring her back to Boston. I’ll have to remember to ask her about Boston when we speak at our meeting tomorrow. I am also going to be keeping a much closer eye on her, whether she likes it or not. Because our friend here, regardless of his answer, isn’t going to be making it back to Boston… ever.
“I don’t know,” he squeaks out through my now tightened grip.
He was instructed not to hurt Maitlin, but I heard the conversation. This man has no conscience and will harm either one of those women without a second thought. I grab his cell phone from the cup holder and give him a full-fanged smile.
Fear makes his body shake, and rightfully so. “I’m just going to go now,” he quips.
“I don’t think so.”
He doesn’t even have time to think before my fangs rip through the tender flesh of his throat. The warm, coppery tang of his blood hits my tongue, and my body comes alive. It has been nearly a century since I fed on anyone so violently. And so help me, I fucking love it. I am on him so quickly, he doesn’t even struggle or scream. I have no regrets that I can taste the fear in his blood, and it is so fucking sweet.
Adrenaline races through this dirt-bag’s body, and I can feel his heart struggle to keep pumping even as its precious blood supply drains. I feel his life slip from him as his heart makes one final effort to survive. I pull back and swallow down the last of his life-giving blood and wipe my lips across my custom-tailored sleeve. Blood covers nearly his entire body and drips down the driver’s side window.
Jaxon (Blood Angel Chronicles Book 1) Page 5
