Lust Born

by Jacquie Underdown

  He almost cracks a smile. “Go get dressed. You’ve got half an hour or I’m going without you.”

  An hour later, Ariana all but skips down the hallway to meet Hadeon in the living room. Despite his threats, he waited. No way will she allow him to ruin the ritual of dressing, especially not when she has a dress like this to slide into. She savored the process of showering, drying and straightening her hair, and applying lashes and makeup.

  Hadeon’s eyes widen just a fraction as he watches her sway toward him. “You’re going to snag quite a few bees in that honey trap.” A Hadeon version of a compliment.

  She spins a full circle in front of him, swinging her hips “That’s the point, isn’t it?” She threads her arm through his, linking elbows. “But you’re going to be right there with me, and I’m certain your scary, brooding face will deter any bee from coming too close.”

  * * * *

  Ariana has worked at some beautiful restaurants, but never before has she eaten at one, especially not one like this. The waiter escorts them to a table on the upper floor, private with low lighting. She peers around the expansive restaurant, at all the patrons dressed in their finery, much finer than she could pay for with a full year’s salary. Thankfully Hadeon bought her this dress. She smoothes her hands along the silk as she sits and smiles at the waiter.

  Hadeon orders champagne and the waiter leaves. Her stomach clenches just a little, always she has an uneasy feeling that she doesn’t fit in with high society, or flashy places like this.

  “The bees are buzzing,” he says. “From the very moment you walked in.”

  Ariana smiles. “Thank you.”

  “Relax,” he says, noting her tense grin. “You’re the queen tonight.”

  She breathes in deeply and nods. “Well, I’m wearing the right color.”

  “Exactly.”

  She smiles across at him. His eyes are lighter this evening. “You know, when I was a little girl, I always dreamed of places like this, but much more opulent. I always felt like I was meant for this type of destiny—beautiful silk dresses, the finest food and drink, castles and crowns.”

  “Ahh, the dreams of many young girls.”

  “A gen Y delusion.”

  The waiter comes back to the table, opens their champagne, and pours them both a glass. She takes a sip and sighs. “Delicious.”

  “So what happened to that dream, Ariana?” Hadeon asks, his gaze soft and interested.

  She takes another sip of bubbly, to swallow down the bitter pain. “After being carted from one family to the next, one abuse after the other, dreams can get lost beneath all that crap.”

  “These are the foster homes you’re talking about?”

  She nods. “It’s a tough life for a young girl.” Particularly one like me. “I think the hardest thing is never being in control. Like, no matter how much I tried to make friends, or take up extra-curricular activities, it was always taken away from me when I was shoved somewhere else with another family. I got out on my own at sixteen, and for the first time I felt like I was able to do it on my own terms.”

  “Sixteen is young,” he says. “That’s a big decision to make.”

  “It was no longer a matter of choice. The foster father in the last home I stayed in…” She focuses on the rim of her glass. “He was strong, much stronger than me, but not real bright. I had no choice but to leave once I all but bit his dick in half. He would’ve killed me if he got his hands on me.”

  Hadeon’s fist clenches and unclenches on the table, and the vein in his neck pulses. “So you never finished school?”

  Ariana shakes her head. “Could never quite balance working late shifts with school.” She smiles and glances at him from under her eyelashes. “You know, so many times I’ve looked at my life and have been bemused by it. I’ve always felt like I was meant to do something big and meaningful, not answering phones at an office or serving drunk people in a bar.” A silence falls between them. Ariana shifts in her chair, unsure now if she has said too much, revealed too much of her vulnerability. “I’m sorry. I sound like every other fool chasing rainbows.”

  “Not at all.”

  “I just want…more.” That word again—more.

  Hadeon slides his big hand across the table and places it on hers. His frown is deep.

  She moves her hand away. “My intention isn’t to gain your pity.”

  He shakes his head and lowers his hand to his lap. “I don’t pity you, Ariana. I admire your strength and perseverance. And don’t give up your dream. You’re still young. Circumstances change.”

  She laughs. “You speak as though you’re so much older than me.”

  He shrugs.

  “How old are you?”

  He clears his throat, sits straighter in his chair. “How old do you think I am?”

  Ariana grins. “Well, when you grimace like you are now, you look close to thirty. But when you smile, you don’t look any older than me.”

  The waiter interrupts again. “Sir has ordered a set menu, which we will serve soon. But first, I would just like to take a moment to wish you, Ariana, a most wonderful birthday.”

  The lights in the restaurant dim and a spotlight shines on a stage by the back wall of their level. A string quintet lines up and plays Happy Birthday, a beautiful largo rendition, while a soprano accompanies them on vocals, each word seductively slow. Another waiter carries a tray with a single chocolate cupcake, a sparkler slid into the center, and places it on the table in front of her. All breath is filched from her throat; never has anyone made a fuss about her birthday.

  Her heart flitters as the restaurant claps and give her three cheers while she blows out her first ever birthday candle. She tries to smile, but her throat is so tight.

  The restaurant lights turn on and the waiter wishes her happy birthday and leaves them alone again. Hadeon watches her from across the table, but she can’t meet his gaze. If she does, she’ll cry.

  “Happy birthday, Ariana,” he says, his voice low and gentle.

  And that is all it takes. Tears roll down her cheeks. She purses her lips together and wipes at her eyes with her napkin. “Thank you,” she says, but her words gush out with a parade of tears and sniffles. “I don’t know how you’d even know it was my birthday, but I’m glad you do.”

  He reaches for her hand and this time she doesn’t move hers away. Despite all his gruffness and impatience, this is the most thoughtful, amazing thing anyone has ever done for her. Ever.

  “My pleasure. It’s been tough for you, so I thought I’d cut you some slack, just like you suggested.”

  She smiles through the tears. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 8

  Ice once again freezes over hell. That’s what Ariana’s life feels like anyway. Hadeon resumes his night-time activities, and she maintains her daytime job and solitude in all moments in between. At least—and this is the one positive—she has plenty of time to study the spell book.

  Friday night, a week after her amazing dinner with Hadeon, Ariana opens a bottle of sweet champagne to drink while she cooks. She’s preparing a meal for Hadeon as a ‘thank you’ for making her birthday so special. With him always gone by the time she arrives home from work, and he asleep or still out when she leaves in the morning, she hasn’t had a chance to show him how grateful she is yet.

  Music plays and her body sways as she trims green beans. Cooking is not Ariana’s strength, as most foster carers didn’t bother to show her how. But being on her own forced her to learn. Tonight’s meal, which she found the recipe for online, is proving challenging—baked chicken breast stuffed with pesto and wrapped in prosciutto. But she’s determined.

  The champagne travels to her head, giving her a pleasant buzz. When finished with the beans, she grabs her tablet and sits in the living room to wait for the chicken to bake. She downloads an e-book, with a guaranteed happy ending, and reads. The storyline sucks her in and she loses time. Not until she smells burning does she remember she is suppose
d to be watching the chicken in the oven.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” she hisses, running to the kitchen and pulling the oven door open. Plumes of black smoke roll out to greet her. “Damn it.” She waves a dish towel at the smoke, trying to disperse the soot. But then a loud beeping sounds—the fire alarm.

  She races to the dining room, grabs a chair, and pushes it under the alarm. She stands on tiptoes, wanting to cover her ears to drown out the shrill beeping, and presses the button to stop the din.

  The room regains its silence, but her ears still ring. She shoves the chair and throws the dish towel on the floor.

  What the hell are you doing, Ariana? Trying to be all domestic goddess for a man who hasn’t given you the time of day for the last week.

  “Fuck him,” she says, stomping to her cellphone and opening her contact list. She dials a number. “Gaius?” she says when he answers. “It’s Ariana. How do you feel about catching up for a drink?”

  * * * *

  The club is thumping; it sends tingles through Ariana’s veins after so long in isolation. Gaius looks amazing, dressed in jeans and a tight V-neck t-shirt. She links her arm around his as they stride through the darkened room, bright staccato lights shining in time to the music.

  People turn their heads and stare as they pass. With this much attention, she’s glad she wore her short hot pants, silver stilettos, and silver halter-neck top.

  “You look gorgeous,” Gaius says in her ear, so she can hear him over the pumping beats.

  She grins. “Thank you.”

  He nods toward the bar. “Come, let’s get a drink.”

  At the bar, she eyes the collection of spirits and cocktails on offer. “Order whatever you like and grab a Guinness for me.” He passes her money. “I’ll find us a table.”

  She smiles and nods.

  Gaius is waiting at a table next to the dance floor. A great position. She places his beer in front of him and takes a sip of her potent alcoholic ice tea. Her body is buzzing with life, that aggravation she felt earlier fading to nothingness.

  They drink, chat, and laugh with each other, and Ariana knows this is what she needs. To be young and carefree like a normal twenty year old.

  “Come dance with me,” he says, standing and holding out his arms.

  She smiles, grips his hands, and follows him onto the dance floor. Her head and body is wobbly from the copious cocktails, but she’d have to be dead before she’d trip up in heels.

  Boy, Gaius can dance. Her attention fixes on his cheerful, handsome face, and moves down the length of his vibrating body. She dances closer, her body swaying in rhythm with his. He takes her waist and pulls her to him, their hips grinding against each other’s. His hands grip her ass, and his expression softens. She peers at his lips, then looks up to see him watching her lustful gaze. His lips find hers. Sweet desire sweeps across her skin. They kiss and dance, igniting each other with their hands, lips, and tongues.

  Gaius pulls away, breathless. “I want to be inside you,” he says, voice hoarse.

  She nods. “I want that too.”

  He looks toward the door. “Do we want to take off? Your place?”

  Her stomach tightens and she frowns. “Um, we can’t go back to my place, there’s special security. Facial recognition,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t bring visitors home.”

  Gaius smiles. “Are you for real? What are you, like, held prisoner or something?”

  “Kind of,” she says. Leaning into him, she whispers in his ear, letting her hot breath tantalize him, “We can go back to your place?”

  He presses his lips to hers, and he sighs into her mouth. “Anywhere is fine with me.”

  She smiles. “I’ll just quickly go to the ladies room and I’ll meet you back here.”

  He nods. “Hurry.”

  Ariana grins all the way to the bathroom. Her stomach is tumbling in anticipation of his body on top of hers—it’s been too long. She heads to the basins and looks in the mirror. Her makeup isn’t too bad, but she reapplies her bright red lipstick and adds more powder to her face.

  A group of four girls come in behind her and stand at the basins. They snicker and look at each other, then sidelong at her reflection. She narrows her eyes at them and they snigger again.

  Ariana spins to face them, a hand on her hip. “What are you all having a good laugh about?”

  The girls giggle. The smallest of the four, with bright orange hair and a spattering of freckles across her face, says, unable to contain her laughter, “Were you having a good time on the dance floor kissing your imaginary boyfriend?”

  Ariana’s forehead furrows. Jealous, she thinks and turns away from them to brush her hair.

  But another girl pipes up, the blonde one. “Yeah, what’s with that? Are you like high or something?”

  She turns to them again. “What are you talking about?”

  “You,” she says, giggling. “Kissing and dancing with the air as though there was really someone with you. The whole dance floor was gawking at you.”

  “What do you mean ‘as though there was somebody there’? Of course I was dancing with someone.”

  The girls look at each other and burst into laughter. “Oh boy, she’s quite the nut job.” They all link hands and elbows and leave the room, crying with laughter.

  Ariana looks into the mirror and shakes her head.

  Two more girls push through the door. One looks at her and smiles. She smiles back. But can’t help but overhear the intended whisper to her friend as they walk through to the stalls. “That’s the weirdo who was dancing with herself.”

  The other girl glances at her and turns back to her friend, nodding.

  All the blood rushes from Ariana’s face. Her pulse pounds hard through her veins. “Dancing by myself?” she says to her reflection.

  She pulls her phone from her handbag and opens her contact list. She scrolls down to G, clicks on Gaius’s number, and peers at the photo she took of him at the Irish pub. The image shows the booth they were seated at and joyous people in the background, but no smiling Gaius.

  She thrusts her phone in her bag and stuffs her makeup back in.

  “Oh no,” she says. “I’m an absolute idiot.”

  Ariana’s heart is beating up into her throat as she races out of the bathroom. Head down, she pushes through and past people, trying to get to the front door without Gaius noticing her. At this stage, she doesn’t know if he is good or bad, but she’s not sticking around to find out.

  Ariana bounds through the front doors of the club. She scans the road for cabs. None. Shit! As fast as she can in stilettos, she races up the darkened street. She reaches for her phone again, gulps down her guilt and embarrassment, and dials Hadeon.

  “What’s the matter?” he asks.

  “I…I think I’m in trouble.”

  “Are you at home?”

  She winces. “Um, no, I’m at a club with a guy.”

  “Who is he?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. He’s not what I thought he was. I seem to be the only one that can see him.”

  “A Shifter. Fuck. Where are you?” he yells.

  She pulls the phone from her ear and cringes. “The Ice Bar, but I’m heading home.”

  “Go back inside the club and wait for me there.”

  “Hurry, please.”

  The phone disconnects.

  Ariana spins and runs into Gaius’s chest.

  “Where are you running off to?” he says, glaring at her.

  “I was just getting some fresh air.” She smiles, but it’s tense. “Come on, let’s go back inside.”

  His eyes intensify in color, shimmering to a darker blue. “No, we’re not doing that.” He grabs her elbow and pulls her along the street.

  She struggles, but he grips tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh. Pain burns up her arm. “Fine. Fine, I’ll go with you, please just loosen your grip.”

  He does so, though barely. She yanks her arm, wriggles out of his gr
asp, and runs. Gaius whistles to the silent air. Snarls and growls vibrate out of the darkness, followed by blood red eyeballs stalking from around the corner.

  She skids to a stop, arms up in surrender. “Hounds?”

  His grin is wicked. “Just to make sure you don’t go doing anything stupid like running off.”

  Two wiry Hounds stalk out into the light, their lips curled up over jagged teeth. Ariana stiffens and forces one foot in front of the other.

  “They won’t attack unless I command them to. So be a good girl, do as you’re told and you’ll be fine. Understand?”

  She nods and creeps backward to Gaius.

  He unlocks the doors of a car parked next to the curb, opens the passenger door, and gestures for her to get inside. She does so.

  “Buckle up,” he says, then slams the door. Gaius slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine.

  “Where are we going?” she asks.

  “Your place.”

  She shakes her head. “But you won’t be able to get in. I told you that. I wasn’t lying.”

  Gaius laughs. “There isn’t a camera in the world that will detect my presence.”

  Ariana groans. “Fuck.”

  Gaius laughs again, loud and strong. “Yeah, exactly, fuck.” He slams the accelerator down and they roar away, the Hounds pounding behind the car as it maneuvers through the dark streets.

  “Why can I see you then? Why am I able to see you?”

  Gaius’s eyebrows arch high. “You have no fuckin’ clue, do you? Stupid little bitch.”

  She breathes deeply, anger now scalding her insides. That’s one thing she detests being called. Ariana bites down hard on her bottom lip. “What don’t I have a clue about?”

  He looks at her, his face twisted in disgust. “You’re a Fioren native. Only humans can’t see me.”

  All breath wheezes from her lungs and her head lightens as though she could float away on a wispy cloud. A native of Fiore. What the hell does that mean?

  The car pulls in front of Hadeon’s apartment building, and the dogs slide to a skidding stop behind the car. Gaius knows exactly where she lives, which means he must have been following her. The realization makes her shudder. Gaius jumps out, runs to her side, and opens the door. He yanks her out onto the sidewalk. She almost loses her balance, but he holds her upright with a tight hand on her upper arm and a fist in her hair.