Blood Heart

by Lexi C. Foss

  Her cheeks flushed. “Uh, I…”

  “I’m joking, Red.” Not really. Her virginal ears weren’t ready for his suggestions yet. “Now, tell me, why did I need flour again?”

  Her lips curled. “Cookies.”

  “For me?”

  “For your guests.”

  “Oh, Red, that’s not going to work. I never share what’s mine.” And that applied to more than just cookies. Sure, he’d enjoyed a woman, or several, over the years with both Luc and Balthazar, but never the ones he wanted for himself. Like Lizzie. Not that they were talking about that right now.

  “Who said they’re your cookies?” she taunted, her eyes shining with mirth. This playful side of Lizzie appealed to him on a base level. He would even say he found their banter fun.

  “First of all, you promised to bake me cookies,” he reminded. “That’s the only way I’ll tell you more about where I’ve lived. And secondly, I paid for the ingredients. So they’re my cookies, Red.”

  “You paid for the groceries because this is your party. And technically, you owe me for saving your butt and helping you provide snacks for your guests.” A taunt glimmered in her gaze. “Furthermore, maybe I’m no longer interested in learning more about you.”

  “Oh, we both know you’re interested,” he countered. “Don’t lie to yourself.”

  “That’s not cocky at all.”

  “Darling Red, you haven’t even skimmed the surface of my cockiness, but feel free to explore me more in depth at your leisure.”

  “How very neighborly of you.”

  “Hey, I try to be hospitable.” He showed her the four bags in his hands. “Proof.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Do you want me to carry one of those?”

  “Now she asks, as we round the corner to our block.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “And she calls me a bad host.”

  Her mouth opened and closed. “Crap. I should have offered… I’m—”

  “I’m joking, Lizzie. Like I would let you carry these for me. I might not be the best host, but I do know how to behave like a gentleman.” Even when all I want to do is drop these bags, shove you against the wall, and fuck the hell out of your mouth.

  She skipped ahead to open the door to the building and flashed Jayson a triumphant grin. “Now I’m being socially acceptable.”

  “Pretty sure you’re always acceptable,” he replied with a nod to the doorman, who stood behind Lizzie with a welcoming expression. “Hi, Dennis.”

  “Evenin’, Jayson. Lizzie.” He tipped his hat and secured the front area after they walked through it.

  Jayson considered giving him a heads-up about the party, but Lizzie was already on her way to the stairwell. Her ballerina legs sure were quick when she wanted to move them.

  He trailed after her with a chuckle and took the stairs two at a time to keep up. When they reached his hallway, he sent a prayer above for the silence. Either Balthazar wasn’t back yet or he’d recruited fewer people than expected for their little soirée.

  “It’s probably open,” he said as they approached.

  Lizzie twisted the handle and froze as sensual music spilled into the corridor. “You said maybe twenty people…”

  He peeked over her shoulder. “I said at least twenty.” It appeared to be closer to thirty or forty. He recognized several Guardians in the crowd. They were loyal to a fault. As long as they didn’t leave the condo, it would be okay. The rest of the attendees were harmless mortals, if a little loud. Not an Ichorian in sight, with the exception of Tristan.

  That explains the sound control in the hallway. Clever man.

  Lizzie elbowed him. “We need more food, Jayson.”

  “It’ll be fine, Red,” he assured. “Jacque can hop out to get us more if needed.”

  “Jacque?” she repeated.

  “’Sup.” The teleporter appeared in front of her. Literally. Not that she saw it, because her eyes had been on Jayson.

  “Oh.” Lizzie took a step backward, pressing her back to Jayson’s chest. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Jacque returned. “You rang?”

  Jayson lifted his grocery-laden arms, bracketing Lizzie between them. “Can you please walk these over to the kitchen, Jacque?”

  His friend grinned cheekily. “Sure, Jay. I’ll walk them over.” He grabbed the bags and skipped away a little too quickly. His energy levels were through the roof.

  “That’s Jacque,” Jayson murmured as he wrapped his arms around Lizzie’s waist. She hadn’t stepped away from him, so he interpreted that as an invitation. “He’s a good friend who happens to enjoy running errands.”

  “Oh,” she said again, her body warm against his. “Okay.”

  “We should go inside,” he whispered against her ear. A trail of goose bumps stamped a path down the column of her neck, encouraging him to take it a step further. He pressed firmly into her backside as he forced her forward into the foyer and kicked the door closed behind him. The scene before them matched what he anticipated.

  Dancing.

  Drinking.

  Debauchery.

  Typical Balthazar. He went by Bacchus once, a few thousand years ago. His legend still haunted mythology books, though Dionysus was the more popular version of the name thanks to the Greeks. He had perfected his party-throwing skills throughout his very long life, and the scene in Jayson’s flat proved it.

  The music was pitched at just the right volume to allow casual conversation while also encouraging everyone to move to the sensual beat, and the lighting was bright enough to see while also lending an erotic feel to the air. Almost like a nightclub and a lounge combined, but in a residential flat.

  Incredible, really.

  The notorious god approached with a woman on each side, his expression welcoming in more ways than one. “I hear you left us for some domestic shopping?”

  “Lizzie insisted we grab some snacks for the party,” Jayson explained as he eyed the two gorgeous brunettes under his friend’s arms. Argentinian?

  Balthazar winked in confirmation before saying, “That was a lovely thought, Lizzie.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, sounding quite pleased with herself. “You were very right about Jayson being a poor host.”

  Oh, the little minx.

  “Careful, Red,” Jayson murmured into her ear as he tightened his hold. “Or I’ll show you how I usually host a party.”

  Her cheeks warmed against his nose.

  Mmm.

  What other parts of her body could he make blush? Her breasts, definitely. And her thighs would redden beautifully beneath his attentions, as would other more intimate parts of her. His cock woke up at the thoughts overriding his brain, and he didn’t bother to hide it. What was the point anymore? She had to know he wanted her, even if he couldn’t have her.

  His hormonal drive tonight proved how badly he needed to get laid, but it seemed only one woman would satisfy the fire Lizzie evoked inside him. Good thing he had that woman in his arms.

  “Without food?” she guessed, her voice breathier than when she teased him seconds before. That she was able to focus enough to answer his taunt said he needed to up his game.

  He nibbled her ear before whispering, “Depends on the menu.” Her responding shiver pleased him immensely.

  “Operating at a level six now,” Balthazar said, interrupting the moment. “I approve.”

  You and I both know that I operate at an eleven on your scale of one to ten, but I’m toning it down out of necessity, Jayson replied mentally as he smiled against Lizzie’s neck. Her floral scent teased his baser needs and invited him to explore more.

  Balthazar merely grinned. “Well, now that you’re both back, we can get this party started properly.” His sinful gaze fell to the woman at his right. “This is Delfina”—he looked to the left—“and Sofía.” Those lips curled into the picture of seduction as he gestured to Jayson. “Ladies, this is the friend I told you about.”

  Two sets of amorous, light-c
olored eyes fell on Jayson, which should have triggered all manner of sordid thoughts yet didn’t. He smiled but didn’t quite feel it. Not the way he did ten minutes ago while bantering with Lizzie, anyway.

  “Ladies,” he greeted as he openly appraised the women. Their sky-high heels and short dresses suggested Balthazar had picked them up at a nightclub, likely in Buenos Aires. The majority of the humans here appeared to be from various parts of South America. All gorgeous with curves for days and reminiscent of his last trip to the southern continent.

  Nice work.

  Of course, his friend’s eyes replied, cocky as ever.

  Jayson murmured a few complimentary words in Spanish that the women returned in kind. He loved a sexy accent, but his focus shifted as the redhead in his arms tried to step away.

  “I’ll, uh, leave you all to chat while I get the snacks ready,” she said when his arms locked around her waist. He’d been going for polite, not interest, which she’d clearly misinterpreted.

  This isn’t going to work, B. Not with her here.

  Or perhaps even then. Only one woman seemed to be tickling his fancy lately, and that was the one trying to escape his unyielding hold.

  “Lizzie promised me some cookies.” He skimmed his nose over her neck to calm her down. “And I owe her a glass of wine.”

  “Really, it’s okay. I can manage on my own.” She tried again to leave, but his arms remained locked around her.

  “I hate to break this to you, Red”—he threaded his fingers in her hair and angled her head backward to hover his lips over hers—“but I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

  Her pupils flared in the way he wanted. Tonight had been about sating his lust with a random female or two, but Lizzie’s presence changed everything. The notion of being with another woman no longer appealed to him, which meant he was in for a painful evening. But at least he could satisfy some of his cravings by spending time with his favorite redhead. His fixation would pass once the mission ended and he took some well-deserved time off.

  He brushed his mouth over hers and smiled when her breath fluttered over his lips. At least he wasn’t the only one fighting the desire between them.

  “Wine?” he asked softly.

  “O-okay.”

  “Good.” He spoke the word against her mouth and followed it with a gentle kiss because he couldn’t help himself. “Let’s go, Red.”

  Jayson righted her and started to say something to Balthazar and his guests, but the trio had melted into the party scene again. His friend stood in a circle of women, including the duo from before, dancing and managing to make each of them feel equally adored.

  He lifted his gaze in a way that said, Enjoy your evening, Jay.

  A show of solidarity, respect, and understanding. Lizzie was forbidden fruit, but if Jayson took her to bed, there would be no judgment from Balthazar. His ability to sense and control emotion, as well as read thoughts, granted him a deeper insight than most.

  Jayson acknowledged the acceptance with a nod. Not that he would do anything about it. His steadfast control would serve him well.

  But there were other ways to sate his needs.

  Maybe he would explore some of those.

  10

  A First Time for Everything

  Sensation and pleasure are incomprehensible to the subject. Benefactor is displeased and requests hormonal updates. Lab technicians are working on a cocktail to fix the oversight.

  —Entry Log 116.03.4-7

  Lizzie needed more wine. The three glasses from earlier had worn off after her walk to the store with Jayson, and this new one wasn’t enough to dull the insanity spiraling inside her.

  Every touch set her blood on fire.

  Every seductive glance elicited goose bumps.

  And, oh God, the kisses.

  She clenched her thighs.

  What is he trying to do to me?

  Never in her life had a man worked her into a frenzy like this. Not even Tom. She didn’t know how to handle it, and the wine seemed to do nothing to cool her off.

  “What do you want me to do with these?” Jayson asked, showing her the bag of grapes she’d picked up at the store. Even those simple words seemed underlined in suggestion. She had to be misunderstanding him.

  But all the touching… is irrelevant.

  A man who craved the kind of relationship Lizzie wanted did not openly flirt with other women in front of his romantic interest. And he’d certainly flirted with those models in the other room. Not that she could blame him—they were gorgeous.

  Just friends, she reminded herself and focused on his task.

  “We need to wash them and put them in a bowl.” She pulled one from the cabinet and handed it to him. “I’ll focus on the cheese and crackers.” Lizzie had thought wine snacks would be appropriate given his drinks of choice, but his friends didn’t seem very interested in food, as they were too busy bumping and grinding.

  To each her own, she supposed. Lizzie would set some food out on the table for those interested and leave Jayson to host his party. She doubted he wanted her to stay. These were his friends. She understood that.

  Maybe she would call Kristin or Cam. She still owed them a girls’ evening out, and it wasn’t too late. They were probably out drinking somewhere. Lizzie preferred to join them over returning to her lonely condo. Issac and Stas were probably still there, and after the way she’d left, Lizzie didn’t want to see them.

  She finished arranging the cheese and found Jayson watching her. “What?”

  He stepped into her space and gently pressed his thumb to the area between her eyes and started to massage it in slow circles. “I’m trying to figure out who or what put this frown here. I thought we were having fun.”

  “We are… No… I mean, it’s not.” For crying out loud! His hands really impacted her ability to form proper sentences. She cleared her throat and tried again. “My mind was wandering.”

  “Do you need help bringing it back?” His warm fingers plucked the knife from her hand and set it aside as he crowded her against the counter. “Because I’m happy to help with that.”

  Her heart skipped a beat as she forgot how to breathe. “Okay,” she somehow managed.

  His lips lightly caressed hers in another one of his infamously chaste kisses. Oh, she enjoyed them, but each one only deepened this feeling of need churning inside her, and she couldn’t handle much more. It felt like an inferno—curling, flaring, and dying for an outlet only he could provide.

  She slid her hands up his arms, luxuriating in the Italian silk of his blazer. Lizzie adored the sleek and sexy look, and Jayson wore it so well. She traced the collar of his shirt before dragging her nails up his neck and into his luscious hair.

  All their previous kisses were controlled by him, but she desired more.

  She locked her fingers in his thick strands and leaned into him.

  “Stop teasing and kiss me,” she demanded. The voice sounded nothing like hers—so throaty and hot—but it inspired the reaction she wanted.

  “Careful what you wish for, Red.” He lifted her onto the island counter, yanked her forward, and stepped between her thighs. “You just might get it.”

  Her body went up in flames as he took her mouth in a kiss meant to devastate her feminine senses.

  Oh. My. God.

  His tongue… Lizzie didn’t know they could move like that.

  She fought to keep up, her nails digging into his scalp as he ravaged her inside and out. No way did she regret this request. She’d demanded, and he delivered.

  His palms slid up her sides, scattering goose bumps in their wake and hardening her nipples. When he reached her neck, she was putty in his hands, allowing him to do whatever he wanted.

  He tilted her head to an angle that allowed deeper entry into her mouth while aligning his lower body with hers.

  A jolt of electricity shot up her spine from both shock and something carnal. No man had ever touched her there, but she could feel him through t
he thin barrier of her panties.

  Because she was in a dress.

  With her legs wrapped around a man.

  In his kitchen.

  How deliciously wanton.

  Never in her wildest dreams did she expect this, yet it felt so right and natural. And positively terrifying at the same time.

  The mixture of emotions traveled from her mouth to his as she tried to return his kiss with equal skill. But she knew her experience paled in comparison to his, as was evidenced by the easy way he dominated her mouth and controlled her body with a few practiced moves.

  She couldn’t bring herself to care, not when it produced this level of euphoria. His fingers knotted in her hair, tugging just enough to keep her grounded while he continued his sensual lesson.

  Her legs tightened around his hips as she fought for something she didn’t quite understand.

  Friction.

  Heat.

  More.

  He broke the kiss with a curse, his breath hot against her lips.

  “Come now, don’t stop on my account.” The unfamiliar voice sent ice cubes dancing down Lizzie’s spine.

  Jayson’s embrace had erased all thought and reason, including the fact that they were very much not alone in his condo. Something she hadn’t even considered while he consumed her on the countertop.

  And, apparently, they had acquired an audience of at least one.

  Jayson combed his fingers through Lizzie’s hair before lowering his hands to her sides. She expected him to step away, but he didn’t. Part of her wished he would so she could stand up and straighten her dress, while the other part of her felt protected by his possessive stance.

  The conundrum left her speechless, if a little mortified at having been caught in the act, but at the same time, hot and bothered. Lizzie never broke etiquette rules—they were ingrained in her after years of training—but Jayson had plowed right through those barriers with his addictive kisses. And she didn’t regret it for a second.

  “Pity,” the voice murmured as he opened the fridge behind her.

  “Tristan,” Jayson growled. “Is there something I can help you find? The door, maybe?”