I’m not that stupid, regardless of how handsome he is, or how that dominant tone in his voice makes me squirm in a good way.
Just the memory of his invitation makes my core clench, and I let out a frustrated groan, slamming the palm of my hand against the steering wheel as I wait at a red light.
A man that devastating probably already has a girlfriend or wife, and if he doesn’t, he’s likely a shameless flirt. And I’ve had enough of men like that, thank you very much.
Still, though. I bet he’d be fun to play with. The trouble with womanizers is often that they’re so very, very good at the art of seduction—and following through. Experience is the best teacher.
I’m still kicking myself inwardly for letting the entire evening spiral so madly out of control when I pull into the little parking spot I rent along with my condo. It’s not until I’m about to get out of the car that I remember I’m only wearing Maximus’s suit jacket and my panties. Luckily, it’s so early in the morning, the chances of there being anybody to witness my walk of shame are low. Even on a Friday night, most sensible people are in bed right now.
Usually, I’m one of them.
I unlock the iron gate, lock it again behind me, and hurry up the little path to my front door, wincing as I catch a small pebble with my bare foot. The complex I live in is expensive but fairly secure, something I’m glad of as I let myself in and drop my clutch on the coffee table. Even though I’m beyond tired, I desperately want a shower before going to bed. I need to wash every last trace of that creepy Ethan from my body.
So much for a wild night of play.
My condo is on two levels but the master bedroom and bath are on the first so I don’t have to climb any steps as I head to my bedroom. Felix is lying on my bed, a disdainful look on his fluffy face. “Hey, sweetie,” I tell him, dropping a kiss between his little ears. “Did you miss me?”
He hops off the bed and slinks away in response, and I suppress a chuckle. Usually I’m a dog person but this condo is too small. Nor would I want to leave a dog home alone all day while I’m at work. So I wound up getting a cat from the local shelter. One look at his golden eyes and I was a goner. “I’ll take that as a yes,” I tell him anyway, and shrug out of Maximus’s jacket before laying it carefully over a chair.
The shower is as soothing as I had hoped and I stand in the spray for a long time, wishing I could just shut my mind off as easily as a faucet can be twisted. I’ve tried so many things… meditation, therapy, medication… nothing quiets and calms me the way pain does. I guess I’m just wired differently, although it took me a long time to accept that.
Zeke didn’t get it, which is one reason why I broke it off with him. The main reason, though, was his weird attitude and volatile temper.
I had enough histrionics growing up, thank you very much. Now I’m in my mid-thirties, I try to maintain as much calm in my life as I can.
Rinsing the last of the conditioner from my hair, I breathe in the sweet-smelling steam and try in vain to stop the image of Maximus’s handsome face from once again appearing in my mind. It’s almost like he brainwashed me—I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s calm, almost too calm, with his soft-spoken voice and pale blue eyes. But there’s something simmering beneath that cool exterior; a sense of white hot passion. And a worldliness I can’t really describe.
Not many men I’ve met have a natural, easy dominance, but he definitely does. The way he took charge the minute he came to rescue me. The way he wouldn’t let me leave right away. It could have come across as creepy but instead I felt weirdly safe, despite what had happened.
God, I’m still not entirely sure what exactly happened. I’ve been blind drunk before, but I’ve never felt like I did when I woke up in Maximus’s lap. Ethan must have spiked my wine; there’s no other explanation for the fogginess, the inability to remember details.
Bastard.
I wonder what would have happened if I’d met Maximus first. If his invitation to play had been genuine. Just the memory of the way his soft voice suddenly changes to a growl makes my tummy clench. I can almost hear him now, keeping me on the edge, that low tone in my ear telling me, “Not yet, don’t you come yet…”
It’s no good, I realize as I dry myself off and slip naked between the sheets. I’ll never be able to sleep unless I do something about the pounding desire between my thighs.
My clit is already rigid before I begin to stroke it softly, my eyes closed, picturing that attractive couple in the booth. The way the welts on the girl’s breasts stood out stark red against her pale flesh. The way the man’s fingers were working between her thighs. She was trembling with lust—I could so easily put myself in her place—leaning back against a strong, commanding man as he brings me ruthlessly, relentlessly to the very edge of pleasure, my slick pussy coating his hand as he rubs… rubs…
My own thighs are trembling as I imagine it’s Maximus behind me, his breath warm on my neck, his heady scent surrounding me as he drives me closer and closer to orgasm. My fingers have become his fingers sliding up and down on my swollen clit as he growls in my ear, “Don’t you dare… not yet… not until I say… don’t you fucking dare come—”
My climax is long and hard, my whole body shaking with the force of it, my moans muffled by my tightly compressed lips. My sex floods and clenches, feeling suddenly, achingly empty.
“Wow,” I murmur at length, pushing my hair out of my face and letting out a ragged breath. It’s been a while since I came that hard. It’s just as well Maximus can’t read people’s minds—he’d have a field day if he knew the effect he has on me.
As I drift off to sleep, my last thought is of him. I already know I have to see him again.
Maximus
Sunrise is creeping ever closer, and I can’t help but feel relieved as Club Toxic slowly but surely empties out. I’m exhausted, even though there’s no real reason to be. It was a fairly standard night—aside from the fact that I met the most fascinating female I’ve come across in a long time.
The odd thing is that I can’t even say why I find her so interesting. But tall, blonde, stubborn Sabina has been in my thoughts ever since she hurried away in my suit coat and very little else.
Maybe it’s because she turned down my offer to play. Women don’t usually turn me down. That probably sounds arrogant—who knows, maybe it is—but it’s a fact. Working security at a club is definitely a great way to meet ladies. Or gentlemen, if you’re so inclined, I think, nodding to Tiberius as he strides past.
I’m sitting on the stool Sabina sat on earlier, sipping my glass of ethically-sourced blood, asking myself why the fuck I’m not balls-deep in a willing female right now.
When she left, I had every intention of seducing an easy sweetblood, of losing myself in a pretty girl’s seductive scent and soft skin. But as I looked around, for some reason all I could see was Sabina’s face. Not one of the numerous women still milling around the club—both upstairs and down—managed to raise so much as a flicker of interest.
Wonderful.
For the millionth time, I wonder what was in that text message she received. What made her smooth forehead crinkle with concern, what made worry flash in her big blue eyes. Fucking technology. We managed without all that shit for hundreds—thousands—of years. Now people are glued to their screens, accessible within seconds no matter how far apart in the world they are. It’s not healthy, and I dread to think where it will all lead.
Still, if I had her number, I can’t say with absolute certainty that I wouldn’t do the same thing: send her a message to find out whether she got home safely. Which is another strange thought. Usually, once a guest leaves the club, it’s out of sight, out of mind.
As much as part of me hopes she’ll return tomorrow—tonight, technically—another part of me is praying she won’t. Something tells me I wouldn’t let her go again so easily, and that would go against my strict nothing-deep policy. I have too many people to take care of. I can’t afford to focus on j
ust one person.
If anything, this evening was the perfect proof of that. What if someone else had got themselves into trouble? What if someone did, and I don’t know about it because I spent all fucking night either with or thinking about the blonde with the Roman name?
Ethan isn’t the only predator around. I wasn’t lying, we do have a strict policy with regards to vampires who attend the club, but you don’t get to be centuries old without learning a thing or two about manipulation. We have a good team here at Toxic, we weed out the nasties fairly swiftly, but there are always new ones to take their place.
“Maximus.” Alaya’s soft voice cuts into my thoughts. I turn to see her wiping down the bar. “I’m about ready to head off, is there anything else you need before I go?”
“No. Thanks.” Draining my glass, I set it down for her to take, suppressing a shudder at the stale taste of old, chilled blood. Yes, it’s better than the old way; yes, it’s more civilized, and I guess many of us have got used to the taste. But I will always prefer it hot and fresh, straight from the source. Fun fact: vampires can taste the chemicals in a person’s blood, and fear and pain make it sweeter. As does arousal—to me, anyway.
And yet again, I’m wondering what Sabina tastes like. If this continues for much longer, I’ll have to perform a mind wipe on myself. I suppress a grin at the thought.
A quick glance at my pocket watch confirms what years of instinct is already telling me: it’s time to head off if I want to be safely home before the sun rises.
“Jesus, Maximus, why don’t you come into the twenty-first century and get yourself a newer watch?” Liam asks me as I slide off the stool and slip the timepiece back into my pocket. “That thing’s ancient! A relic.”
“That’s why I like it,” I say. “They don’t make quality like that these days.” It was brand new when I received it; glistening gold. Flawless. A gift from Caroline on our first anniversary. She’d saved and saved to get it for me, putting aside every extra penny she earned making accessories for hats. She had nimble fingers and a good eye, and specialized in silk flowers. People came from all over, wanting her personally to create unique pieces to adorn their outfits. I told her she didn’t need to work, but she was stubborn like that. She was good at it, and she loved it. Who was I to deny her something she loved?
Women don’t wear hats anymore. Or corsets, or girdles, or garters. No, they wear men’s jackets and ridiculous shoes.
I run a hand back and forth over my head—a bad habit of mine—as I finish saying my goodbyes, emerge into the night, and make for my car. It’s time to go home, to hole up in my basement boudoir and await the setting of the sun.
Hopefully, a solid day’s sleep will erase a certain blonde from my mind.
Somehow, deep down, I don’t believe it will.
And that’s unfortunate.
6
Sabina
I don’t know why I’m so nervous but I can’t help it. I’ve been jittery all day, and Zeke’s stupid text messages are probably the main cause—although some of it might also be due to the fact that I’ll be seeing Maximus again.
I woke up to yet another message from Zeke: We need to talk.
Of course I ignored it. Either he wants to get back with me, in which case he’d be wasting his breath, or he wants to give me a piece of his mind, in which case he can go to hell. Either way, not for a single second did I entertain the idea of replying.
A few hours later, my phone vibrated again. You can’t ignore me forever. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.
For the life of me, I cannot figure out what his deal is. What exactly is he trying to accomplish with these texts? True, we only dated for a short time, but four weeks is long enough to figure someone out, and if he paid any attention to me at all, he’d know that I’m not the kind of girl to be bullied. Not by anyone. I didn’t go into specifics about my past—it’s none of anybody’s damn business, as far as I’m concerned—but I told him enough. That my father skipped out on us when I was five. That my mother sought refuge in a bottle shortly after that. That raising my two younger siblings somehow became my job from that point on.
When you have to grow up fast, you get tough. I didn’t have a choice. And to this day, I have a real problem with people who think they can boss me around. Had Zeke just one ounce of sensitivity, he would have realized that. If he wanted me to agree to talk to him, he would merely have had to adopt a different tone. Instead, it’s like he’s rubbing me the wrong way on purpose, and it’s enough to make a girl want to scream.
I’m in my car on my way to the club when my phone sounds off again. I switched Zeke’s ringtone to the Jaws theme, and my fingers tighten on the steering wheel when I hear that ominous tone. Once I’ve parked, I take my cell out of my bag. Stay away from Club Toxic, Sabina. Last warning.
What the actual fuck? Is he watching me? I realize how little I really know about Zeke. He hangs out at some motorcycle club or something, but I only ever saw a couple of his friends, and he never took me there. He works as a mechanic, or so he says, and he tends to get aggressive when he’s had a few beers. He wasn’t particularly sensitive or loving towards me, and when I dumped him, he merely nodded and said, “Fine,” so this sudden display of interest is taking me by surprise.
Not a little unsettled, I slip my phone back into my bag and clamber out of my car, reassuring myself as I shake back my hair and get Maximus’s jacket off my backseat. Zeke always did like a good head-fuck, and that’s probably all this is. Just immature posturing. Maybe he went to Toxic at some point and had a bad time. Maybe he knows someone who works there. Maybe he’s just guessing correctly that the first thing I would do after we broke up was what he’d expressly forbidden me to do.
I’m sometimes contrary like that.
A tiny voice inside my head asks whether this might be his weird way of looking out for me, but I quash that thought quickly. Even Zeke, who has all the sensitivity of a doorknob, would word well-intended messages better. At least, I’d hope so.
Taking a deep breath, I lock my car and smooth down my dress. At first, I debated whether or not to wear another one of my special dresses after one of my favorites got ruined last night, but then I figured it was highly unlikely that the same thing would happen again. Besides, the thought of seeing Maximus again made me reach for this one automatically. It’s a deep purple color, and clings to my body in all the right places. Even though it looks pretty demure from the front, it has a plunging back, so wearing a bra with it is out of the question. I added some black, strappy sandals—a little kitten heel, but nothing outrageous this time—and left my hair loose to complete the look. I can only hope Maximus likes it.
Although why I want to impress him, I still don’t know.
The queue of people waiting to get into Club Toxic is already stupidly long again but I put on a confident expression, push my shoulders back, and walk straight to the front, thanking the heavens that the two guys at the door are the same ones who were here yesterday. I vaguely remember Ethan referring to one of them as Liam, so I try that when they notice me.
“Hi, Liam,” I say loudly, paying close attention to see which one reacts. The blond one. Right. “Maximus is expecting me.”
My heart is pounding and I hold my breath, hoping against hope that Maximus is even in the club. To be sent away now would be both devastating and humiliating, considering dozens of people are watching me.
For once, I’m in luck.
“Go on in,” Liam says, stepping aside.
Not until I’ve passed under the refreshing blast of air-conditioning do I allow myself to exhale. And it’s then that I realize I never planned further ahead than this moment. In all likelihood, Maximus is downstairs. And I have no idea how to get down there without an express invitation. Seeing as the entrance is hidden in the coat check area, I highly doubt that just anyone is allowed to march on down the steps.
Crap.
There’s a bored-looking guy sitting in the c
oat check booth, and I approach him with my most winning smile. “Hi,” I say, glad I sound more confident than I feel. “I’m here to see Maximus.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“Yep.” It’s only half a lie. I did tell him I’d return his coat today. But if I say that, this guy might take the jacket and promise to pass it on, and I can’t bear the thought of having to leave again without seeing the man who’s been on my mind for nearly twenty-four hours now. “He said I should just ask for him here and that you’d let me go down.”
The guy’s eyebrows rise and I suppress a groan. Maybe that was too far-fetched? “He said that, did he?” The dude sounds skeptical.
“He did. If you don’t believe me, call him up here. It’s no difference to me.” I shrug as casually as I’m able to.
“It’s just—I can’t let you go down there unescorted,” the guy says. He has a narrow, attractive face, albeit a bit pale.
I lift my chin. “Can’t you escort me then?”
The corner of his mouth lifts and he shakes his head. “Someone needs to man the booth.”
“Then I’d say we have a bit of a dilemma, don’t we?”
Another man in a dark suit arrives then, and the first guy visibly brightens. “Augustus. Would you please escort this young lady down to the club?”
What is with this place and Roman names, anyway? I wonder.
Augustus’s eyebrows go up and he looks first at me, then back at the coat check guy. “Sure.”
It’s all I can do to suppress the grin of triumph from spreading over my face.
Result.
“Thank you,” I say sweetly, entering the booth without an invitation and threading my arm through Augustus’s.
“She’s here to see Maximus,” the first man says. It seems like Augustus is superior to him, and he feels the need to explain himself.
Her Vampire Addiction (Midnight Doms Book 9) Page 4