Blood Heart

by Lexi C. Foss

  Her triumphant grin faltered as he stood and walked to her side of the table. By the time she realized his intentions, he was already behind her, hands on her chair, and leaning down to whisper in her ear. “You can resist me that easily, can you?”

  Her chest rose and fell in quick succession as her pulse beat an unhealthy rhythm beneath his chin. Mmm, not so unaffected after all, it seemed. Not that he was any better. Being this close to her felt too right for his liking. Not to mention she smelled far too sweet for his taste. He suddenly had a desire to indulge in a new fantasy—and the forbidden undertone was not helping.

  She swallowed and tried to catch his gaze by looking sideways. “I might be persuaded,” she admitted. “If you promise to bring me earplugs.” As unnerved as he clearly made her, she still managed to maintain an air of wit.

  It was fascinating, and he loved it.

  And he wanted to push it one step further.

  He nuzzled her neck and luxuriated in her sharp intake of air. It lifted her ample breasts for his viewing pleasure, something his lower half enjoyed far more than it should.

  His fingers itched to knot in her hair and introduce his mouth to hers—just for a second—but the buzzing against his thigh reminded him of his purpose.

  Attractive or not, she was still an assignment.

  And he had better control than this, not that his hardening member downstairs seemed to accept that.

  Damn.

  “Consider it a future neighborly date,” he whispered, unable to resist. And straightened to check his phone.

  Never mind. There is nothing useful in the condo. We’ll be done in about thirty minutes. Sorry to disappoint you. Grace’s defeated tone bled through the text. He would have to call her later to let her know it was fine. Jayson never expected her to find anything, only hoped. But he’d gotten what he needed through the art of old-fashioned conversation, and then some.

  *

  Lizzie fought to breathe.

  What just happened?

  Jayson had leaned so close she could almost taste his woodsy aftershave. Now he stood just behind her as he typed something into his phone. She glanced up to see him grinning—not at her but at his screen.

  Another woman, maybe?

  He could easily be a player. She knew little about him other than he enjoyed barging into his neighbor’s condo and demanding pizza dates. But his easy candor and smooth lines suggested a comfort level with women that required a lot of practice. Pair that with his gorgeous exterior, and yeah, he likely slept around a lot.

  Not that it mattered.

  They were friends on a neighborly date, as he had called it.

  And so what if his lips grazed her ear while he spoke? That could hardly be considered romantic. Even if it did set off a flurry of butterflies in her lower belly.

  “We should probably start heading back,” he said, his focus still on the phone in his hand. “It’s getting late, and we both have work in the morning.”

  Right. He went from flirting with her to wanting to leave. Either she’d misread the signals or she had done something wrong. Maybe a mixture of both?

  Irritated with herself for overanalyzing a very straightforward situation, she shoved her chair back into Jayson’s legs.

  “Oh!” She rotated to look up at him and cringed at his pained expression. “I’m so sorry!”

  He cleared his throat and took a step back to allow her to stand. “No problem.” Except it certainly sounded like a problem. She had pushed back with more force than necessary, but it shouldn’t have hurt that much.

  Unless the chair had connected with more than his legs…

  What a typical way to end an otherwise decent evening. With Lizzie being a klutz.

  Heat overwhelmed her cheeks and neck, even her breasts, as she wished teleportation existed so she could pop herself home and hide under her bed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, helpless.

  His warm gaze met hers. “I think I’ll live, Red.”

  She couldn’t even argue the use of that dreadful nickname. Although it did come off as more of an endearment when he said it. Or maybe that was just her imagination.

  He picked up her purse and slipped it over her arm. “You just caught me by surprise, which was my fault for focusing on my phone.” His fingers danced down her wrist, and then he linked his hand with hers. “Shall we?”

  So casual.

  Like holding her hand was the most natural and platonic thing in the world.

  He led her outside and toward the nearest station.

  The temperature had dropped, cascading goose bumps down her exposed arms and legs. Her dress’s short sleeves were enough to keep her comfortable in the restaurant and during the early hours of the evening, but they had stayed out later than she anticipated.

  “Sweater or arm?”

  Lizzie blinked up at the strange man. “Excuse me?” There’s that awesome phrase again.

  “Shall I choose?”

  Uh… “Sure?”

  “Excellent.” Jayson’s hand left hers as he draped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close.

  Oh, well, this is nice.

  His body felt strong and warm against hers. And who knew cedar smelled so good?

  “Better?” he asked as his hand ran up and down her arm.

  Her mouth forgot how to form words, so she nodded instead.

  Friends were allowed to keep each other warm, right?

  Yes.

  Okay.

  This wasn’t date territory at all. Just a friendly gesture to keep Lizzie from freezing her ass off. Stas would do the same and had done so on several occasions, because Lizzie had a penchant for dresses, even in winter.

  Tom would have done it, too, her heart helpfully reminded.

  She shoved that thought in a closet and kicked it closed. No sense letting the past ruin a mostly enjoyable evening with a new friend.

  Jayson’s touch left all too soon as they settled into a pair of seats on the train. They made small talk for a bit until he asked Lizzie why she chose teaching as a profession. Her standard reply about liking kids seemed to stick in her throat, not because of nerves, but because, for some inexplicable reason, she wanted to give him more.

  The truth.

  “Children are so impressionable at that age,” she murmured. “I think having a positive influence means everything, and I want to provide that since one wasn’t provided to me.”

  He stretched his arm along the back of their seats and shifted slightly to face her. It caused their knees to touch, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Did you have bad teachers while growing up?”

  His tone held a note of incredulity. Obviously, he assumed her wealthy parents had provided her with a reasonable education, and they did. But that’s not what she meant.

  “I attended private school, and my teachers were all exemplary, but when money is involved, they tend to look the other way.” And they did. All the time. “Like when a student misses classes to attend beauty pageants or is spending more hours taking ballet lessons than studying, you would think a teacher might intervene, right?”

  “They didn’t?”

  “Nope.” The word popped in her mouth, but he didn’t smile.

  “I assume the ballet and beauty pageants refer to you?”

  She nodded. “It was a constant in my life until college.”

  And even then, her mother had tried to force her into the adult pageants. However, after Lizzie turned eighteen, she exercised her legal right to refuse. But she never quit dancing. Not completely, anyway. She attended classes for fun now whenever she had time, which wasn’t much lately.

  His brown gaze roamed over her, and he smiled. “I bet you won often.”

  She didn’t return his amusement. “Occasionally.” And when she didn’t, her mother never let her hear the end of it. She studied her hands and sighed. “I went into teaching to help children like me, to help those who might be suffering from emotional or physical abuse.”
Because that’s what it was, even if her mother would never admit it.

  He lifted her chin with his thumb and stared deep into her eyes. “I think that’s very admirable, Elizabeth. And I’m sorry.”

  She blinked. “For what?”

  “For making a joke of something that clearly pains you so deeply, and that you had to go through that. Childhood is the time for fun and games, though I know from experience that’s not always the case.” He traced her jaw with his fingertip before extending his arm behind her again and relaxing. “My parents, or rather, my father, had certain expectations for me as well. Needless to say, I didn’t abide by his wishes.”

  “But you’re obviously doing well for yourself,” Lizzie replied. If he could afford a condo in her building, then he wasn’t horribly off. Unless his father bought it for him, too, something she highly doubted.

  “Oh, I’m definitely doing okay without him, perhaps even in spite of him.” Jayson chuckled to himself and shook his head. “Hmm, I believe this is our stop?”

  Lizzie smiled. “Still acclimating yourself?”

  “It’s a huge city.”

  “Uh-huh, and you still haven’t told me where you’re from originally.”

  He stood and held out his hand for hers, tugging her upward. “I think I’ll keep it a secret for now, Red.” He waggled his brows. “Gotta give you a reason to hang out with me again.”

  “Oh? You mean I’ll have a choice?” she teased as they ascended the stairs. Next time they went out, she would remember her cardigan.

  “You had a choice tonight,” he reminded.

  “I only agreed so you wouldn’t barge into my condo again.”

  His arm fell over her shoulders as he yanked her into his side. Her palm went to his abdomen to keep from falling. His chuckle vibrated the arm she wrapped around his waist to steady herself. “I see the thanks I get for buying you pizza. Twice.”

  She tried really hard to focus on his words and not the rock-hard muscles bunching beneath her fingertips. Seeing them was one thing, but feeling them? Quite another.

  He kept walking, and she hobbled along with him as she searched for her brain.

  “Thank you?” She thought that’s what he wanted her to say. Maybe. She really didn’t know. Being this close to such a fine specimen of male short-circuited her thoughts. It was a miracle she didn’t fall on her ass with these heels.

  At least she wasn’t cold anymore.

  “That almost sounded believable, Red.”

  “Sorry?”

  He laughed again and led the way to their building while she focused on remembering how to walk.

  What the heck is wrong with me?

  Stas always called Lizzie boy crazy because of her obsession with boyfriends and marriage, but a lot of it was said in jest. Lizzie wanted her best friend to be happy, while never really considering her own happiness because she always wanted Tom. Or she thought she did.

  But Jayson left her questioning everything; the way she felt around him was decidedly different. Not love drunk, but happy and protected. And warm.

  She barely acknowledged the night doorman and navigated the stairs in silence with Jayson right behind her. When she stopped at her floor, he waved her on, and she laughed.

  “Oh, this is the part where you demand entry for dessert.”

  He grinned. “No, this is the part where I ensure you’re safe before I go upstairs.”

  “Well, that’s good, because I haven’t baked in days.”

  “You bake?”

  She turned to relax against her door and stared up at him. “I’ll neither confirm nor deny my hobbies until you tell me where you’re from.”

  “I see what you’re doing.” He leaned his forearm over her head, caging her between the door and his solid form. “If you bake me cookies, I’ll tell you more about all the places I’ve lived.”

  “Why cookies?”

  “Because Dennis tells me they’re amazing.”

  Damn it. The doorman was giving away her secrets but she had to laugh. “He loves chocolate.”

  “I do too,” Jayson murmured, holding her gaze. “But then again, I like a lot of things.”

  She swallowed, unsure how to respond to that. The innuendo in his tone left her breathless. Most men who stood this close to her only left her uncomfortable—including the ones who had kissed her—but something about Jayson was different. She experienced happiness with him, an emotion few people had ever evoked from her.

  “I had fun tonight, Red.”

  “Me too.” She swore her pulse was louder than her voice right now. It sounded like a drum in her ears.

  Thud, thud, thud.

  And she’d thought his music was obnoxious. Ha! She couldn’t even think over this pounding.

  “I’ll text you after I get back from my trip next week, and we’ll plan that concert. Or maybe a movie.”

  She nodded on autopilot, unsure what she was saying yes to exactly, but agreeing nonetheless.

  His chuckle tickled her lips, sending tingles through every limb.

  “Friends can kiss good night, right?” he asked as he brushed his mouth over hers.

  Another nod, because no way could she argue with that logic.

  His opposite hand lifted to cradle her cheek as he pressed his lips to hers in a firm but chaste kiss. He stepped back all too soon, leaving her dying for more, and his smoldering gaze suggested the feeling was mutual.

  “Good night, Lizzie,” he murmured. “Don’t forget to lock up.”

  Right.

  Door.

  Somehow she managed to open it and mumble, “Good night.”

  That kiss left her quivering long after Jayson left.

  She sat on the couch, staring at nothing and feeling everything.

  It was as if he’d imprinted himself on her soul, which sounded ridiculous even to Lizzie. But his presence melted into her blood, leaving her a trembling mess of uncomfortable need.

  Over a single kiss!

  Not even Tom’s hugs had made her stomach twist like this, nor had any of her previous experiences.

  Friends can kiss good night, right?

  Not like that, they don’t.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  5

  A Game of Cups

  Day eight without human food and subject’s vitals fall within adequate levels. Next phase will include blood ingestion.

  —Entry Log 105.02.4-7

  Lizzie’s skin crawled as she stepped into the elevator of the last building she wanted to be in right now. She much preferred her silent condo on a Sunday morning, but her mother would kill her if she skipped brunch.

  Stas’s hand found hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s going to be okay, Liz.”

  “The last brunch wasn’t,” Lizzie muttered. Tom skipped several family brunches while he was deployed, but this one he had missed for an entirely different reason. One his father and her parents refused to talk about during their last brunch because it contradicted her mother’s etiquette rules.

  “Well, this one will be different,” Stas promised. “Because I won’t put up with the Evil Bitch’s shit.”

  Lizzie’s lips twitched. Her best friend had given her mother that nickname after their first meeting. “How did you convince Issac to come to this?” They had been an item for a few months, but he never attended previously.

  “Doctor Fitzgerald asked him to attend.”

  “He did?”

  “Yep. So you have at least two of us on your side, Liz. Because Issac won’t tolerate Lillian’s bullshit, either.”

  The elevator announced their arrival before Lizzie could reply. Issac Wakefield stood just outside the door, waiting for them in the lobby in one of his hand-tailored suits. Black on black today, which paired nicely with his dark chestnut hair and striking blue eyes. He didn’t smile as they exited, but his gaze glimmered with satisfaction as it slid over Stas’s navy dress and matching heels.

  “Aya,” he murmured as he tugged on on
e of her blonde strands of hair. “I missed you this morning.” Stas brushed a kiss against his cheek and whispered something in his ear that caused his lips to curl upward.

  They weren’t outwardly touchy-feely, but a genuine love radiated between them. Not the fuzzy, quick-and-easy kind, but the soul-destroying, heart-wrenching kind. It almost hurt to watch. A connection like that didn’t exist between normal people, and it certainly didn’t apply to the older couple watching the exchange from the reception desk.

  Lizzie’s happiness died upon spotting her mother’s overly done profile. The woman needed to loosen a few brown curls and maybe stop using eyeliner altogether. It seemed to have permanently damaged her face. Or maybe that was from the frown lines.

  She appeared positively petite next to Lizzie’s well-fed father. He wasn’t necessarily overweight, just a little chubby in the belly, especially when compared to the lithe, blond male beside him.

  Her chest ached to behold him. He resembled his son in every way, and it didn’t help that he didn’t look a day over forty despite having to be in his midfifties by now.

  “Hello, Elizabeth,” Issac greeted. His English accent gave her name a sexy appeal she didn’t hear often. “How are you, love?”

  She forced a smile. “I’m okay. You?”

  “Eager to get this over with,” he admitted quietly. “Shall we?”

  His honesty was refreshing and just what she needed. She nodded.

  Stas looped her arm through Lizzie’s and took on the role of bodyguard as they approached the waiting party. Formal greetings followed despite everyone already knowing each other very well before they claimed their usual table near the windows.

  Let the countdown to two o’clock begin.

  *

  Jayson’s heart ached for Lizzie. Discomfort and sadness radiated from her as her mother whispered in her ear again.

  Verbal poison.

  Stas sat to her right, irritating Jayson even more. The woman should be in Hydria, not at a brunch in the middle of Manhattan. Apparently, she’d worked out some sort of arrangement with Issac that Luc had begrudgingly approved.