Jack burst out laughing and then quickly put his hand up in apology, shaking his head as though she’d amused him beyond belief.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that we each did it, too. You’re not alone. That’s the perfectly logical response to how he makes you feel, but just try to remember that it’s not going to happen. He will never accept you for anything more than the blood you can give him. Your new friends here at the club can help satisfy those other needs and don’t worry, he won’t get jealous. I know he’d approve of his managers sticking together as well…” Jack informed her, and the look on his face told her he was more than interested in taking over whenever Marcus had gotten her all fired up and left her hanging.
Oh. So, Jack would be there after every bite to give her what he thought she needed. Sure. Such a selfless hero. She wanted to roll her eyes at his obvious come on.
But, Jack was wrong. Marcus had given her something. He’d let her orgasm. Something he’d told her was never going to happen in his presence, and yet, it had. He’d told her to go elsewhere but then had still let that happen, and she couldn’t fathom why.
“That’s what Marcus said too,” she eventually replied, feeling confused. “He told me I’m free to do what I want with whoever I want just as long as he gets his feeds on a weekend. But right now, the last thing I can think about is sex.”
Jack’s face turned cold and at first Wynter thought it was because she’d turned him down. She was about to give him hell for coming on so strongly at all, when he stood and walked back over to the glass wall as if to leave.
He stopped himself right before going through the opening and turned back to Wynter.
“He lets you call him by his first name?” he demanded, and it dawned on her how he’d referred to Marcus as ‘Mr Cole’ every time he’d spoken about him. And of course, how that woman from earlier, Joanna, had called him ‘Master’.
“He introduced himself as such, so I called him by it,” she answered defiantly. “I didn’t feel the need to ask for his permission.”
Jack seemed angry but he quickly forced his rage aside and offered Wynter a look of concern instead.
“Please just be careful,” he implored her, “it’s all well and good being strong and defiant, but if you’re not cautious he’ll get bored of it and suddenly all the fun and games goes out the window. Hold your tongue, Wynter. Don’t forget who you’re dealing with.”
“A vampire, I know,” she bit back, and Jack shook his head.
“A creature older than the history books themselves. A being who roamed this Earth before man even came up with the concept of God or Satan. Death personified and with an evil streak that has resulted in stories which puts the old tales of heaven and hell to shame.”
And with that bombshell, Jack apparently felt he had done his bit in taking care of Wynter.
He walked away and she heard him take the lift downstairs, presumably to his office, leaving deafening silence in his wake.
Six
When she felt up to it, Wynter carefully removed the line connecting the IV to her arm and placed some gauze and a plaster she’d found beside it over the tiny wound. She did feel better, thanks to the fluids, but still grabbed another bite to eat from the small kitchen area and helped herself to a tall glass of water before then taking the elevator down to the third floor.
There, she headed straight for her office, where she found a man sliding her name into what had been the empty space beneath her job title on the door. Marcus was overseeing the operation and he grinned at her as she approached, eyeing her every move.
He didn’t have to say a single word, just the headiness of being close to him almost knocked her off her feet. Wynter managed to keep it together in front of the workman, whom she thanked before ducking into her office where she made sure her handbag and things from earlier were still safely located.
Marcus had an entirely different air about him when he joined her and closed and locked the door behind him. While Wynter still felt there was much they needed to discuss about what he was and what he wanted from her, she realised quickly how there was a complete difference in their work time to their extra-curricular hours. There was a palpable change in the air and she visibly saw as Marcus changed his tune when he spoke to her.
“It’s unfortunate that you lost so much blood you were unable to start work on time, but at least I had longer to get everything ready for you,” he offered, and Wynter rolled her eyes. He really wouldn’t apologise would he?
“You mean, because you drank so much that I passed out? No need to apologise,” she countered with a sly smile curling at her lips.
He didn’t so much as rise to the bait, and simply took the seat beside her at the new desk and leaned over and fired up what looked like a brand new top of the range PC on her desk top. He made contact with her shoulder and she felt herself flinch thanks to his touch, but wasn’t entirely sure if it was with attraction or dislike. Her emotions were always in turmoil when it came to him, always conflicted, and she found it annoying how she could never truly decide how she felt about all of this. One thing was for sure though, she couldn’t feed him. Not so soon after what’d happened the last time.
“This is work time, Wynter. I won’t ever ask you to take care of my personal needs during these hours. Trust me,” he said, peering down at her with a softness to his stare that made her believe him. Wynter nodded and told herself to remember that promise at all times and make him stick to it. She was there to work, not to swoon over the boss or feel herself growing reckless thanks to his close proximity and her new inherent need to feed him.
He seemed to sense her acceptance and smiled as he passed her the mouse. “I’d like to work closely with you tonight. If that’s all right with you? Show you the ropes,” Marcus then asked.
“It’s perfectly fine,” she answered, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “I’ve got a lot still to learn.”
“That you do.”
The two of them then spent a short while in front of the computer while Marcus showed her the real business he did inside his nightclub. It was a strict front for his blood letting service. A complete cover business that not only employed hundreds of people, but in turn, hundreds of his prized walking blood bags.
It was the perfect system, and Wynter knew that like all the others in Marcus’s employ, she was just another source of food to him. One he had decided to favour above the others for some reason, but she was still expendable should he grow tired of her. Maybe Jack had been right to warn her.
After showing Wynter the real schedule for the upcoming week of member’s only nights, Marcus stood and walked over to the window that looked down on the bustling club below. She caught him watching the crowd and couldn’t help but want to ask him some more questions. It was her first day after all, so she hoped he might afford her some extra time to settle in.
“Do you ever go down there?” she asked from her seat.
“Not at weekends no,” Marcus answered, still staring down at the crowd. “I can’t stand the noise, or the smell. Filthy, sweaty humans all crammed into one space and writhing around against one another. Not my idea of fun.”
“I always quite enjoyed it,” she answered in a playful tone, and was glad to see Marcus picked up on it.
“I noticed,” he said with a small laugh. And then, still without looking at her, summoned her to his side. Wynter felt him calling for her and stood without a second thought. When she reached him, she took his hand and let Marcus lead her in front of him so that she too was looking out of the window down onto the crowd with him pressed tightly against her from behind. “I’ve watched you more than once, Wynter. I’ve seen the men you took home with you. The short skirts and the carefree attitude. You were always just one step away from garnering my full attention, but then last night, you were truly broken. It was mesmerising.”
He then brushed her dark hair away from her neck and leaned his head down to place a soft kiss against her neck. “But no
w that you’re with me, you’ll stay up here where it’s clean and the men down there can’t get their stink all over you. You will be cared for, here, Wynter. Where I can watch over you.”
Wynter gave out a small sigh and tried desperately not to swoon over him, but couldn’t deny how Marcus sure had a way with words, and she knew she was falling further under his spell.
He didn’t bite her this time though, and she was glad he’d kept his promise. He’d already taken too much as it was. Even in her haze, Wynter knew it would be dangerous to lose more blood yet.
“I thought you didn’t mix business and pleasure, Mr Cole?” she whimpered, her eyes on the glass but not watching the partygoers. She was watching him in the reflection. Lost in those bright blue eyes.
“I like to spend my time doing whatever I feel is entertaining,” he answered matter-of-factly. “And usually work is what entertains me the most. But not always.” He pressed another kiss to her neck and Wynter felt a shudder go down her spine. She was scared that he was going to take more blood. To finish her off, but at the same time, everything inside of her was urging her to let him. It was the strangest sensation to be welcoming death with open arms, only as long as it was he who delivered it. “And please, call me Marcus,” he added.
“Jack told me off for it,” she informed him, but he just grinned against her skin and Wynter could tell he already knew. Perhaps he’d been spying on them? Or maybe his curse gave him insights into his underlings’ doings no matter whether they were near or far? “I got the feeling he was jealous.”
“Yes of course,” Marcus agreed. He then lifted his head and stared back at Wynter in the reflection, his face serious. “The three other managers can be your best comrades here and worthy allies, but be careful. Each is only looking to serve whichever purpose will ultimately get them closer to me. Their jealousy will drive them, not their integrity. Joanna was envious of you and tried to come between us. Patrick was resentful of you so tried telling me it was too soon to have hired you. Jack is offended because he feels he and I have the strongest connection. As though we’re friends, while I have always been nothing but business about our relationship. Don’t trust them to have your best interests at heart. Only trust me. I will guide you.”
Wynter turned to look up into Marcus’s face and she frowned, thinking how odd it was that she trusted him at all after he’d lured her into the job under false pretences and then almost killed her, but she did.
It was the curse. It had to be. There was no one else she trusted like this. No one else she cared for so strongly. Marcus was all that mattered…
“How old are you?” she asked him. “How did you become what you are?”
“Later,” he said before stalking away, clearly not interested in divulging any more.
The moment the contact was broken, Wynter saw clearer. His power over her was strongest when they were touching. So strong it overrode every other thought and feeling she had. Marcus could say and do anything and she would let him, but when he was gone, her true thoughts were able to creep back in. Away from him, she knew better than to believe him or to blindly trust he was telling her the truth.
“No. I want to know now. I deserve to hear more,” she demanded, shocking herself with the outburst, and instantly enraging Marcus. He was across the room in a flash, like she had seen with Joanna, and he had her by the throat in the same way a second later.
Marcus sneered down at her and shook his head.
“Keep fighting, little girl. We’ll see who wins,” he growled. “You want to know how old I am? Put it this way, you’ve been on this earth twenty-five years, and I have been on it three thousand years longer than you. I was born when the world was nothing and the people were soulless barbarians. Only the powerful survived, so I became a leader. A ruler. A man with more wealth than I could ever need while those around me begged for the scraps from my table.”
Marcus then let go of her neck and forced her against the desk behind, his entire body pressed against hers. Wynter felt faint, but not thanks to any loss of blood or lack of oxygen. Marcus was overwhelming every one of her senses. Invading them one by one. “And when I was old enough to realise my days were numbered, I went to a shaman for help. He told me of the monsters that lurked in the shadows, feeding on the blood of the living to make them immortal. And so, I demanded he make me one of them. That he find a way to give me their immortality.”
“And he did?” Wynter whimpered, her eyes wide with shock and awe.
“He did,” Marcus confirmed, “I offered him and his kin my protection and untold riches in return for his gift. Those from his bloodline remain by my side to this day and theirs is the power that hexed you this afternoon. They bound your life to mine and made you my perfect little slave.”
His wicked grin irked her but Wynter was instinctually calm. His spell was overriding every other response, thanks to his body still being pressed against hers, and so she found a stray independent thought and grasped at it.
“If I was a slave you wouldn’t have had to force me to give you anything,” she countered, her smile matching his. “When in fact, you’re the one who just gave me what I wanted, Marcus.” Wynter then arched her back, pressing herself against him tighter and she could feel his hard body beneath his three-piece suit. “And yes, I will keep fighting. Even if I don’t win, it’ll be worth it just to know I’m getting under your skin a little.”
Seven
Damn, she was right. Wynter had just gotten her own way in spite of him having told her no, and while Marcus was impressed, he was also livid. It took everything he had not to strike her or force her on her knees and to submit to him.
“One-nil to Wynter then,” he simply said, leading her to believe the matter was over with, when it wasn’t even remotely. He would win. He always won. Marcus would not allow her to have any kind of victory over him and decided he would see her fall from that pedestal she had placed herself upon by the time she left his club and went home after the following night’s shift.
As if on cue to break their tense silence, his mobile phone buzzed in his pocket and he stepped away, leaving her there, looking shocked and more disheartened than victorious. The look on her face left him wondering, had she meant what she’d said? Or was she just toying with him? If so, Wynter was soon going to learn that no one played games with him. Quite the opposite.
He pressed his phone to his ear and heard Bryn’s voice come across the line.
“Sir, you’re input has been respectfully requested in the design department. The heads have called a meeting to finalise the upcoming Christmas themed special events,” he said.
“I’ll be there in two minutes,” he barked before ending the call and turning back to Wynter, who had sorted herself out and was now fiddling with the items on her desk awkwardly to busy herself.
He made to leave, but decided he would instead take the opportunity to introduce her to some of the other employees. “Come, Wynter,” he commanded as he opened her door and strode through it.
She followed without hesitation and he smiled to himself as he watched her lock the door behind them. She’d remembered his order without needing to be reminded. Clever girl.
They then walked down past the elevator doors and through to the reception desk that led into the rest of the huge building Marcus called both work and home. He barely left the premises other than to go to his other clubs around the world, and adored the domain he had built for himself in the city he now called his. He revered this building too. It had been nothing but an empty shell of an old warehouse when he’d taken possession of it and he had built the offices up around the centre that’d been purposely constructed to create a hollow space in the middle. It doubled as a completely private dance floor on a weekend and veritable cattle market during the week.
The heads of his workers all turned up in greeting as he passed them. Marcus knew every one of them had sensed his arrival and it wasn’t long before he started to feel aware of the all-consumin
g desire they each had to serve him. To worship at his feet like the God he was. He ignored them all. They were nothing but fodder. A product he sold to the highest bidder without a care.
He stopped only when he and Wynter had reached the offices where the design team were situated, and he paused to open the door and allow her through it—like a true gentleman.
She thanked him and went in ahead, where they found ten humans eagerly awaiting Marcus’s arrival.
She didn’t need to introduce herself or tell any of them why she’d come along to the meeting. Even without Marcus by her side, the news of their new manager had spread among the teams and she was the only new face there. By process of elimination alone they would know it was her who had completed his elite team.
“Good evening, Mr Cole, Miss Armstrong,” his Head of Design greeted the pair of them.
“Good evening, Marcella,” he answered, and Wynter imitated him. “As you’re aware, Wynter here is still settling in, but I thought it pertinent that she meet your team and see what it is you’re working on.”
“I agree, sir,” Marcella replied, ushering them both forward. “Please, come and take a seat and we will begin showing you the final concept for the winter designs.”
He did as she had asked and shook his head when Marcella offered him his usual tea—a concoction of his managers’ blood and hot water tinged with spices.
“I’ve already been well fed, thank you,” he told her, and then revelled in the team’s reaction as they all turned to look at Wynter. She turned her gaze away and immediately tried to hide the small scratch marks on her neck and wrist, only serving to draw attention to them. The flush on her cheeks was positively delightful and the scent of her shame only added that bitter edge to her scent he so adored.
The Beginning Page 6