by Leeah Taylor
Ramsey left early and got the room hours before she was supposed to show. Maybe it was his nerves, but he wanted everything ready. She gave him the impression that if one little detail was off, she’d either run or take him down.
He just needed her through the door to get it done and over with. Make it quick and painless. Killing her was just business. If he thought she wouldn’t be an issue after the fact, he’d let her live, but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she’d be a pain in his side. Especially when he was threatening everything she loved and cared for. The Frosts. Sterling. Her precious Damien.
Not that he’d blame her for coming after him. But once again, he had come too far for Juliette Marquis to stand in his way. Killing her was the only option.
He gave the room a sweeping glance. It would pass an inspection on first look, but if he took the time, he’d probably find things better left unseen. Like the stains he’d find if he pulled the hideous floral duvet back and revealed the sheets underneath.
He didn’t want to think about it.
Even the guy at the front desk gave him the heebies. Probably had peep holes through the entire building. He shuddered. How did Juliette put up with meeting guys here? Why did she meet guys here? The backseat of a car would be better than this place.
She was running with the werecat princess. Maybe it had to do with her? An extra layer of protection to keep anyone from tracking her back to the werecat. Seemed like the kind of thing Juliette would do.
Protect the ones she cared about no matter the cost.
Rebecca liked him to believe that Juliette was a cold-hearted bitch, but really it was her. There was a cold callousness to her that he didn’t understand because she was capable of warmth and love. But he couldn’t ignore the facts. Rebecca did vindictive things to get vengeance. Like getting Chelsea Greaves’ mother, Sterling Regent Corinne Greaves, killed for her hidden marriage to a vampire.
He rubbed at his arm. The raised faded scars roped around the forearms were a dark reminder of his own mistakes. His darkest memories tried to creep into his mind, and he forced them out. He didn’t need the distraction tonight. Or ever when it came to Tess. No reason to wallow in that misery anymore.
Yet when he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, it was Tess’s big blue eyes that stared back at him. Pleading for him to find another way.
“There’s a better way handsome.” Her voice, deafening, echoed between his ears. “You’re better than this.”
Maybe, a long time ago, he was a better man. For her. His precious, sweet Tess. Full of piss and vinegar. He smirked. And a bit of sugar. She was everything. Blessed him with four beautiful children. As beautiful as her and filled with the same bright spirit.
He blew out the breath, heart slamming in his chest. “Forgive me, Tess.”
God, I miss her.
Rebecca was the furthest from Tess. Night and day. She even played her role in getting Juliette ousted from Sterling twenty years ago. Though he was sure it wasn’t as fantastical as she told it. He listened, and not just to Rebecca, but to the whispers that floated around.
Juliette and Lucien were very naughty.
Still, Rebecca had her hand in it. Ramsey had to wonder if she had a line. He sighed. Probably not, and he didn’t want to know what that looked like one day, but he knew it would be ugly.
Probably for her.
He was under no illusion of what they were up against. And he had made sure she understood that the consequences could be as steep as death if they failed. It was, after all, the Kings of Sterling. The powerful Frost family. But giving up, accepting defeat, wasn’t an option anymore. If death was waiting for him on the other side, he’d happily and proudly embrace it.
At least he’d be reunited with Tess.
Just after nine, he messaged Rebecca. He needed to check in. Keep her accountable.
What are you doing?
Several minutes without a response, and annoyance, an emotion he rather loathed, blossomed.
Sweetheart, don’t make me ask again.
When the message went unanswered again, he tapped the call button with a growl. Damn well won’t be ignored.
“Yes?” she purred.
“Not playing games, Rebecca.”
“Who’s playing games?”
“I’m serious. What are you doing?”
Music and chatter came in from the background. She had to be at Juleps.
“Rebecca, answer me.”
“Got my eyes on Damien Frost. Looks yummy tonight.”
He fisted his hand at his side while gritting his teeth. She’ll pay for that.
“You get what I need?”
“Haven’t even gone over to him yet. Relax. Have some patience.” She clicked her tongue into the phone. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Better not be him.”
He shuddered.
“He’s putting back whiskey like it’s water. I need him a bit more liquored up. Plus, I need to make sure Chelsea Greaves isn’t around. Don’t need that bitch in my face.” Her tone took on a vehemence. She needed to stay focused.
“Don’t get yourself into trouble.”
“I’m not going to get into any trouble. Relax. I know my job. Just remember yours.”
His heart thudded in his chest. Kill Juliette.
Killing didn’t make him squeamish. Not the first time he’d end a life. But this one was different. She hadn’t done anything to deserve it other than being the witch hybrid. And that was by default. Something she didn’t ask for.
“I know what needs to be done, Becca. Call me when you have it.”
“Call me when it’s done. Better yet, send me a picture of her cold, dead body.”
Ramsey cringed. “I’m not sending a picture.”
“Fine, but call me when it’s done.”
“Just behave yourself.”
He hung up before she conjured up a comeback. She liked a good verbal lashing. Giving and receiving. Getting caught up in one of her games would only serve to rile him up, and he needed to be cool, calm, and collected.
Ramsey|6
The hum of an engine made his ears perk up and he stopped pacing. Gut twisted in knots, he went to the window and peeked out, trying to keep from disturbing the curtains. A beat-up car passed through the parking lot before disappearing to the other side of the building.
Damn.
He checked his watch. She’d be there any minute. The same whining hum caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes on the same car as it crept slowly through the parking lot. Like before, it disappeared.
Oh, it must be her.
Waiting, listening, the car made it around the building, but this time it slowed then parked in front of the room.
Cautious little hybrid.
An admiration grew in him. He appreciated the caution. She should be cautious. Meeting random guys in sleazy motel rooms was bad enough. Meeting a random vampire? Even worse. A surge of panic burst through him.
Why do I care what she does?
She hesitated before getting out of the rundown car. It was dark, and the flickering light outside his door did nothing to give him his first good look at her.
She gave the parking lot a glance behind her. Eyed his truck a few parking spots down. It was still too dark to get a good look at her when she turned toward the door. He needed to see her. To see what it was that Rebecca envied so much. What about the witch hybrid threatened her to the point of insanity?
He went to the door and blew out a breath. He needed to focus on the task at hand. Get her through the door and kill her. Take what he needed.
That was it.
Two soft knocks, and his heart slammed into his throat.
Sorry, little hybrid. It’s just business.
He pulled the door open, eyes like a galaxy met his, and everything fell away. Not because they were stunning but like he was getting a glimpse into her soul. Those eyes struck him in
his very core. Something about them, about her, stirred up a foreign familiarity in him.
Shit.
There was no rational reason why, suddenly, he felt the inherent need to protect her. From him. From Rebecca. From anything and everything. She was nothing to him. Just an idea, until now.
Panic tightened in his chest, and he had to force himself to step out of the doorway. She looked him over before stepping over the threshold. He needed to get it together. Focus.
“I’m—"
She quickly held up a hand. “No names, that’s not how this works.”
He threw his hands up, taking a few steps back to give her space. No matter what, he needed to make sure she felt some sort of control. At least the illusion of it.
“Okay, how does this work?”
She looked the room over, eyeing him at the same time. Overly cautious. Wary.
Good girl.
The thought startled him. He had no reason to give a damn about her. Her safety. He was supposed to kill her. Yet as he watched her cross the room to the bathroom, pushing its door open, he wasn’t sure if he could go through with it. All he knew was he needed to calm the nerves trying to scratch to the surface.
“Just you and me here. If that’s your concern.”
She stared back at him, scrutiny bubbling up in her expression. “Just making sure.”
Juliette looked at the bed and cringed.
Yeah, me too, kitten.
“You get five minutes. No more. There will be no sex, oral or otherwise. No other physical contact other than where I tell you. No kissing. No petting. And for the love of God, no self-gratification, or it will be the last time you’ll have anything down there to gratify.” She paused. “And it’s three hundred. Understand?”
She likes rules too. I kinda like her.
Again, the thought rattled him. He couldn’t afford to like her. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that she meant something to him. Something important. If he killed her, he might never find out why. Rebecca would kill him if he didn’t do as he promised.
Swallowing, leaning back against the wall, and crossing his arms, he smirked. “Yeah, I think I got it.”
“Don’t think. Be sure you understand because if you deviate from any of the rules after this at any point, I will not only castrate you, I’ll defang you too. And no, I’m not bluffing.”
He chuckled low. Feisty little thing.
“Somehow, I believe it.” Pushing off from the wall, he started toward her. “So, on the bed?”
Why? He inwardly cringed. I don’t even want to touch that bed.
She arched her brow and crinkled her nose. “Not a chance in hell. There will be fine.”
She pointed to the small table in the corner on the other side of the room and thought he saw her fingers tremble. To get to it she would have to walk by him through the very little space on either side of him. He rather liked that idea.
Juliette eyed the bed, and he wished he could read her mind in that moment. An odd amusement sparkled in her expression and vanished just as fast.
Your move, kitten.
He didn’t move, not an inch, when she tried to squeeze by him. When her arm brushed against his, she gasped, and a surge of energy rushed through him, catching him off guard. Her very essence warmed over his skin. Mouth running dry, he met with the purple galaxy. Strawberries and cream engulfed him. He itched to reach up and graze her cheek. Tuck the dark strands of hair out of her face. Just to feel that power again.
The same familiar, powerful need to protect her coursed through him. Screwing with his head. Compromising his plans. She should be dead already.
I can’t fucking do it.
He needed to improvise. Get what he needed without killing her. Rebecca would be furious, but he’d deal with her. And, when the time came, he’d deal with this girl when she no doubt came for him.
“Excuse me,” she whispered.
He stepped back to give her more space possible. “My apologies.”
She swallowed and scurried past him to the table. He didn’t move a muscle. Almost content to watch her. She was calculated. Always taking in the space and situation. She had to know how dangerous it was.
If only she knew she had just skirted death. All because, for the first, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not her or the brilliant glow of her soul piercing through him with those damned eyes.
Why do I know those eyes?
“And here I thought I’d be the nervous one. No worries, Kitten, I’ll be gentle.”
Why the hell do I keep calling her that! Knock it off. Fuck.
Juliette glared. “I thought I told you I wasn’t your kitten?”
He threw his hands up. “Won’t happen again. Take your time.”
He was fucking it up. Risking it all because he was enraptured by her. Filled with too many questions and no answers in sight. Not yet. Maybe never.
Juliette settled in the chair. A smirk pulled up on her adorable lips. How in the world did Damien deny her? She was so stunning. Beautiful. Inside and out. In such a small amount of time he saw all the ways she was perfect. Damien was a fool and deserved to be betrayed like he was.
She cocked her head up at him. “Have you done this before?”
“Blood share?”
“We aren’t sharing.”
“You aren’t my first if that’s what you’re asking.”
She chuckled, a sound that cut through him. Filling him with a need to know her more.
She relaxed. “Yes, I am. Maybe not the first you’ve fed from, but it will be the first with an experience like this.”
“I’m sure I can hold my own.”
It was a lie. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do now that he couldn’t kill her. There was only one option, and he didn’t like it. The bite would put her on her ass for hours, but it wouldn’t kill her. That much he knew, but it didn’t make him feel any better.
I don’t want to hurt her.
“Money?”
“Right.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled three hundred dollar bills out. He laid them on the dresser behind him. “Satisfactory?”
The uncertainty oozed from her, but she nodded as she removed her white blouse, eyes never leaving him.
Shouldn’t meet strange men in motel rooms, kitten. The pet name was going to stick.
Laying the blouse across her lap and pulling the straps from her tank top and bra down her shoulder, she swallowed and nodded. He took careful, calculated steps to her. As jumpy and cautious as she was, he couldn’t afford for her to bolt. Or try to. He also didn’t feel like going head to head with her because he was certain she’d match him in strength and power.
If he let them, those eyes could undo him. Stop him and make him give up this pursuit. Tell her the truth about all of it. He wanted to believe that maybe she was the key but not like this. Nothing that required hurting her.
He couldn’t afford to stop now. Not when he was so close.
Cradling her neck with one hand, her magic prickled over his skin. Warm and inviting. Familiar. He locked onto her with a quiet apology. It’s just business, kitten. He pressed his lips to the base of her neck as her heart raced.
“Remember the rules,” she breathed out.
You and your rules.
“Oh, I will, Kitten.”
He let up on the reins of his wolf, dropped his canines, and sunk his bite into her neck. She jerked back with a whimper, but he tightened his grip. Her panic ebbed against him as her realization must have set in.
Not a vampire, kitten.
A hot prickle blazed through him as her hand shot up and he slapped it away before gripping to her wrist. A purple flash of heat brushed over his cheek, and his chest rumbled deep. Glass shattered behind him. If she didn’t know before that he knew who she was, she sure as hell did now.
Blood like decadent, velvety chocolate coated his tongue with a hint of spic
e. Not metallic like he’d expect. Better than he imagined. Blood wasn’t a necessity as a wolf witch hybrid. He didn’t need it to live, but he’d make an exception for hers. He got lost in the taste of her. It went straight to his head. Settled a blanket of warmth in his chest as the euphoria swept through him.
She jerked away, crying out as the flesh tore against his bite. He held tighter to keep from hurting her and drank deeper.
I have to let her go.
The venom took hold, draining the fight from her. She went slack in his grip. He took one last heady pull from her neck, pooling her blood in his mouth and resisting the urge to keep drinking before releasing her.
The thought of drinking blood never felt so good. Soon, it would be his reality.
He needed to get rid of the blood before he succumbed and swallowed it. Stumbling back, he staggered over to the dresser and snatched up one of the mugs. He emptied every drop of her blood into it. With heaving breaths, he looked over his shoulder at her laying on the floor as her eyes rolled back in her head.
I should kill her.
The thought made him sick, heart pulling tight in his chest. He had gotten what he needed from her. Killing her wasn’t part of the plan anymore. He’d regret it later, and Rebecca would lose her mind, but he couldn’t do it.
His head spun as he staggered back and crouched down beside her. He sighed, pushing strands of dark brown hair out of her face. She tried to blink to focus on him, but no doubt she was too far gone.
He dipped down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, kitten.”
Ramsey|7
The vigor of her blood raced through his veins, but he managed to make it to his truck, start it, and get the hell out of there. His head spun with a steady pulse behind his eyes. It was potent but alluring. The potential to become addicted to it was bigger than him. He needed to put distance between them. The urge, an irrational pull, to go back and nurse the wound too great.
Who the hell is she? Fuck. Who the hell is she to me?
He put several miles between them before pulling off the side of the road. Sucking in ragged breaths, he eyed the mug in his hand. Holding tight to it like it might vanish.