“No, Miss. The room has been cleared already and everything has been binned. It’s now’t but an empty shell,” he replied, and then left in the awaiting elevator.
Wynter stormed over to the desk where Bryn was sat typing at his computer, and he turned to her with a smile, which dropped when he saw how enraged she was.
“Miss Armstrong, what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone gentle in a practised bid to diffuse the tension.
“What’s Marcus playing at?” she demanded, and then lowered her voice. “My handbag was upstairs. Please tell me it’s not been thrown out in all the rubbish?”
Bryn looked sheepish. He checked down the corridor to ensure they weren’t going to be overheard, and then leaned closer to her with a frown.
“If it was up there, then it left in pieces,” he told her, “this was not a planned redecoration, put it that way. It sounded like an animal had gotten loose in there.” Bryn then looked her up and down, one eyebrow raised in questioning.
It was obvious he thought she had something to do with whatever had gone on upstairs, and Wynter knew he was right, but she wasn’t going to say so.
“He was fine when I left,” she lied, “thank you anyway.”
Wynter then headed for the main stairs and she bounded down them to the basement. She told herself that she wasn’t looking for a certain someone, but for the group of people she felt safe amongst. The team she was part of, despite what she had told Warren the last time she’d seen him. She just needed somewhere safe to hide out until she could figure out what was going on with Marcus, but as she stalked down a bunch of questions were whirring around in her head.
Had he trashed the office because of what had been said and done between them? Was his refusal of her all lies and bravado? Did he truly care?
His soul had been shining out at her from behind those pale blue eyes numerous times, and Wynter knew that reaction had been real. It wasn’t a lie or something she’d imagined thanks to her raging hormones, but Marcus had still pushed her away, in spite of it all. He had let her go, rather than beg her to stay, and so he was to blame for however he’d felt in the aftermath of their fight. If he was angry enough to lay waste to his own office, then it was on him. She’d tried and tried to get him to stop hiding, so wouldn’t let herself feel guilty about how he chose to unleash those emotions when her back was turned.
Inside the open-plan IT office, Wynter went straight for the kitchenette and she poured herself a large coffee before grabbing one of the bagels from the cupboard and popping it in the toaster.
She then spied Phoebe across the room and offered her a wave, and was pleased to see a welcoming smile on her face as she dropped what she was doing and came bounding over.
“Hey, where have you been?” Phoebe asked when she reached her, “we’ve missed you.” Wynter gave her an awkward smile. She’d stayed away on purpose after her fight with Warren. She’d told him she wasn’t one of them and didn’t want to be, but it was all lies. Pain she had to put upon him to help her force him aside. It was nice to know he hadn’t relayed her hurtful words to the rest of the team though.
“Missed you too, Phoebe,” she replied, and then gave her a small hug. “Things have been mental upstairs. Plus I had a run in with Warren yesterday,” she added, thinking a bit of honesty wouldn’t hurt.
“Ah, so that’s why he’s been such a delight,” Phoebe replied with a knowing smile. “I know he hates Fridays and Saturdays because of the obvious, but he’s not usually such a miserable arse as he has been this weekend. I thought it must’ve been because he took a bigger beating both days than usual.”
Wynter frowned. Warren was hurt?
She looked around for him, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t even in his makeshift office behind the frosted glass partition. Surely he wasn’t home sick?
“Is he okay?” she asked, and Phoebe shrugged. “Where is he?”
“He’s still in one piece. We all have good weeks and bad. He’ll get over it,” she replied sullenly, “and he’s up in marketing helping Marcella with something. He’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Wynter sighed in relief. She couldn’t have handled it if Warren was in too bad of a state. Not after she’d seen for herself just how nasty it was in that ring.
They sat down and she started eating her bagel with a frown. She tried to pretend she didn’t care, but truly did. She wanted to see if he really was okay, or if Marcus had somehow hurt him some more. She didn’t trust that he would’ve left Warren alone while her back was turned.
She’d seen Marcus lash out at him on Friday morning after Warren had rejected her, but other than his fighting in the ring, as far as Wynter knew they hadn’t had any altercations. Unless perhaps Marcus had given him more vampires to spar with over the Saturday daytime? Had he given him a heavy workload in the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to cope, just to spite him, and also Wynter? Had he done his best to make sure Warren was beaten and broken so that she no longer desired him so?
Wynter didn’t doubt he would be capable of such things, and felt her despair surge within, as if it were a growing, living thing.
“And he’s miserable? Or just in pain?” Wynter asked, and she couldn’t deny the ache she felt in her chest when Phoebe reached across and put her hand over hers. It was such a gentle, tender thing to do, and still the gesture spoke volumes. Kindness. It cost nothing, and yet Wynter felt it was just another debt she owed. Another person she would have to fret over.
“Both,” Phoebe answered, “and something tells me you’re exactly the same.”
Wynter burst into tears and didn’t even try to quieten them when half the room turned to stare at her in shock. She even let Phoebe gather her in her arms and hold her. It was wonderful, but still her tears kept flowing, no matter how many minutes ticked by.
Her week had been hell. Wynter had hated her new life one day, loved it the next, and then feared it just enough to earn back some semblance of her freedom by the end. She was glad of her new job, yet her heart was now full of nothing but contempt for the vampire who had given her it.
“What the fuck?” Warren’s voice permeated the chaos, but Wynter ignored him. She kept her face buried against Phoebe’s shoulder and clung to her tighter.
“Back off,” Phoebe replied, and Wynter heard Warren mutter beneath his breath, but he did as she had asked. He stayed away.
The sound of a spoon hitting the inside of a mug then reached her, as did the smell of fresh coffee. Next, she heard a chair being pulled out near to her and someone took a seat with a thud.
Gulp. Gulp.
Did he have to drink it so loud?
Gulp.
It took Wynter a few moments to realise she was no longer crying. To notice how she was listening for him, rather than pouring her anguish out onto poor Phoebe’s blouse. She shuffled a little and turned her head just enough so that she could see him out the corner of her eye.
Warren was sitting two chairs away, his back straight and his arms out in front of him on the table, a mug still cradled in his hands. He had cuts and bruises all over his face and neck, as well as on his knuckles and wrists.
Wynter could also see the feeding marks. So many littered his skin, not hidden even by the tattoos etched upon every inch of his flesh. And there were too many. It wasn’t fair.
“Is that my fault?” she croaked.
Warren didn’t even look at her. He just stood and stormed back over to where the pot of coffee was sat waiting.
“You guys want one?” he asked.
“Yeah,” said Phoebe.
“Yeah,” echoed Wynter.
He delivered them without any care for whatever sloshed over the side, and Wynter had to laugh. Warren certainly wasn’t the delicate sort, so she wasn’t surprised in the least. In fact, she smiled to herself in spite of the ache still radiating in her chest.
The three of them sat in silence for a while, and Wynter eventually peeled herself from Phoebe so she could pluck up her coffee
and take a sip. It was perfect, and made just as she liked it. Fresh tears threatened, but she beat them back and took a deep breath before finally looking up and over at Warren. He was sitting waiting patiently and she appreciated him giving her the time to gather herself. He hadn’t pounced, and he hadn’t come in shouting or screaming either. He’d simply let her be.
“None of this is your fault, Wynter,” he groaned, and then sighed, “don’t ever think that.” She didn’t believe him. “Those bloodsuckers did this. Not you.”
The air between them then suddenly heated and Wynter glared at Warren.
“Don’t be so naïve,” she demanded with a frown, “he knows I—” she hesitated, but knew she had to be honest. She had to tell him.
Phoebe seemed to sense that things were about to head towards the deep and meaningful, so she pushed back in her chair and deposited her mug beside the sink. She hovered there a moment, waiting for Wynter to give her the go-ahead to leave, which she did.
A second later, she and Warren were alone. He moved into the empty chair between them and took her hand in his, peering into her eyes intently.
“He knows what?” he asked her, “that I care for you? That I want you? He does know. Mr Cole told me himself.”
“He did?” she cried, and Warren nodded. She softened and leaned into him ever so slightly, craving his warmth and comfort. “Well, I was going to say that he knows I care for you, Warren. He isn’t jealous with any of the managers, and yet with me it feels different. He added the extra day for me to feed him, but there’s more. He touches me. Acts like he wants me in ways I’m not sure I can handle.”
“It’s all part of his games, Wynter. He plays them with all of us, but just stay strong and be his slave when he needs you to be, and then be yourself in between. The curse can only invade us so much,” Warren replied, and Wynter cringed. She was free of at least that one element, and being close to Warren now, she knew it was worth giving up that freedom for. He was alive, albeit a little battered, and it was all because of her sacrifice.
Totally worth it.
“I think I can manage that,” she replied as she turned her face up to look into his. Warren was rugged and hardened. His features weren’t soft, even hidden behind his beard and the dark eyes that now burned into hers. He had seen his share of evil and yet had remained a good and honest soul. And one she wanted to know. Perhaps, even wanted to fall for.
Before she could say another word, his lips were on hers.
Warren’s kiss was as wild as he was and his beard scratched at her face, but Wynter loved it. She put her hand on his cheek and kissed him back, and it wasn’t long before their kiss turned feverish and full of longing.
She wanted him and knew now how he wanted her just as much. There was no question of their attraction to one another, and when he eventually pulled away, Wynter felt lost without him. This was dangerous, they both knew it, but she didn’t care.
Six
Warren stood and pulled Wynter to her feet with a grin. She quickly followed his lead and soon they were heading away from the kitchenette and over towards the back of the room where the pillars of servers were located, and she saw how their kiss hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other members of the IT team. Eyes were on them and followed the pair as they passed, as well as the smiles and nods of approval. It was good to know their team approved of what had just sparked to life so publicly between them.
“This is where we come to rest or to get some peace,” Warren told her when he eventually came to a stop, and he turned the handle on the door to what Wynter had assumed was a broom closet or an electrical cupboard. Inside, she found a small space that had been cleared of janitorial goods and they’d been replaced with cushions, blankets and even a massive beanbag that she figured she might actually be able to fit her entire body on.
She let out a giggle and kicked off her shoes before clambering straight onto the beanbag, and then held up her hand to let Warren know how she wanted him there with her. He took it and obliged her, taking up the entire leftover space with his huge body when he joined her on the small makeshift bed.
“Hold me,” Wynter whimpered, shuffling closer, and Warren did as she asked. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close. Their bodies were soon pressed tightly against each other’s, and while Wynter wanted more, she didn’t push for it. Fear held her back. Terror over what Marcus would do if he caught them. If he figured them out.
Warren let his hands roam over her back and up to her face though, where he cradled it and pressed his lips against hers once again.
His next kiss was ferocious and somehow gentle at the same time. His lips caressed her mouth, his tongue delving inside and taking charge of her senses, and Wynter swooned. She hadn’t felt like this since when she and her ex were first seeing each other. In fact, even before then. Back to when her heart had still been full and she had been ready to love. Open to anything. The endless possibilities and a determination to prove her mother’s cynicism about men wrong.
And yet, Wynter knew it was her who had been wrong. Her heart had believed in something that hadn’t existed, or at least that was what she’d come to believe after nothing but heartbreak after heartbreak.
She bristled and pulled away, and Warren looked at her with a sorrowful expression. Did he feel it too? She thought he must do. Did he know their best-laid plans were fruitless in the face of the powerful and predatory boss they were both fighting against in their own way?
“This isn’t over. He hasn’t won,” he groaned, confirming her suspicions, “we’ll find a way to be together.”
“He’ll kill you if he discovers we’re fooling around behind his back, Warren,” Wynter croaked. She knew Marcus would do it, but she also knew something her beau did not. She was only still under his employ because of her deal with the vampire tyrant to keep Warren alive. If he went back on their deal, then she’d be gone, and Wynter hoped that’d be enough to ensure he never lashed out at him to spite her.
Marcus would always be selfish. Always put himself and his needs first, even if that meant having to keep Warren around, and that gave her a certain amount of control. It was only a little, but it was still something.
“Then we shall lie,” he answered with a smile, “we’ll still know the truth, but when he’s around we’ll both hide how we feel. Keep it secret.”
“Even if we have to keep our distance and hide our feelings, we’ll know the truth,” she agreed. “But what if he kisses me, or touches my body in the throes of the feed?”
“Then you close your eyes and think of me, Wynter,” he groaned, and she felt heat rage from inside of her at the thought. “Imagine it’s my hands on you. My lips,” Warren continued, and she arched herself against him, desperate to feel his body crushing hers.
One day, she told herself. When Marcus was over his infatuation with her and he’d calmed down with his mind games. When she was free to live and work in peace through the week, and then feed without all the chaos at a weekend. That was when she and Warren could be together for real. When she could spend the day making love with him and being a normal couple. They might even fall in love and live happily ever after.
Maybe…
Thud, thud, thud!
“Guys, you need to wrap up whatever you’re doing in there and get out here quick!” Phoebe’s voice permeated their little bubble, and Warren jumped to his feet in record speed. He opened the door and reached down for Wynter, who was just climbing up onto her shaky legs. She felt exhausted and in need of some sleep, but the look on Phoebe’s face told her they weren’t going to be allowed any more quiet time. Her eyes were wide and she seemed terrified, as if she had seen a ghost.
“What is it?” Warren asked her.
“It’s David… he’s dead,” she replied, her voice shaking.
“Oh, God,” Wynter croaked, holding her stomach that’d just begun to ache at the news finally being out amongst the others at the club.
“Mr Cole called directly to i
nform me and to say he’s going to come down and see me. There was some kind of accident and he fell down three flights of stairs,” Phoebe explained, and then her knees buckled and Warren caught her in his arms, holding her close.
Wynter was frozen solid. She didn’t know what to say or do, and wasn’t sure why Marcus had told Phoebe the news, or why he’d lied. There had to be a reason. She got her answer when Warren eventually turned to her with a grim expression on his dark face.
“Her cousin,” he whispered, and she nodded.
“I know he had his moments, but he was a nice guy. Wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Phoebe said, still looking shocked, as if she couldn’t get her head around the sombre news. “Oh my poor Aunt Nancy.”
“When did it happen?” Warren asked.
“Sometime this afternoon while everyone was either out or working their overtime hours,” she replied, and began to sob. “He was just found by some contractors because they were using the service entrance rather than the usual one. Everyone just thought he was off doing his checks.”
Wynter couldn’t listen to any more. She put her hand on Phoebe’s arm in a bid to be supportive but all she wanted to do was escape. She couldn’t bear to hear how he was such a great guy, when he was dead only because he’d tried to attack her. Marcus could play it off as an accident all he wanted, but she would always know the truth.
“I have to go,” she groaned, before adding a robotic, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Warren opened his mouth as if to stop her, but Wynter just walked away. She couldn’t stay and listen to this fabricated story any longer. She felt bad for what’d become of poor David, but at the same time she was also angry. She had been attacked and no one would ever know it. They’d never learn just how horrible David had been or how much he’d hurt her.
She reached the huge open-plan office and ignored the quizzical looks from the engineers as she passed through the small group and headed straight for the door. The last thing she wanted to do was explain what’d happened between her and Warren, or discuss what Phoebe had gone running to tell them both. Wynter just wanted to hide herself away again.
Round Two Page 5