by Primo, Jaz
I attempted to leverage my upper body strength to push myself up from the floor, to no avail.
Okay, this really sucks.
“Let go!” I yelled. “And get your damned foot off my back!”
“I have all day,” she said.
“For what?”
“For you to see the difference, Caleb,” she said. “What I’m doing now is undoubtedly emasculating.”
“Fine, let me go,” I said.
“Apologize first,” she said.
“No,” I said. “You’re full of crap if you think---”
She lifted my arm ever slightly while maintaining the pressure of her foot on my back.
More pain ensued.
“Okay, okay. I apologize,” I said.
I battled between the conflicting feelings of confusion and mortification over having to apologize.
Dammit, she was the one at fault, not me.
And like a swiftly passing storm, her right foot disappeared from behind my back and she let go of my arm, which flopped down beside me.
Before I could push myself up from the carpeted floor, she moved with that fast, vampire-like speed to perch on the side of the bed again, casually crossing one leg over the other.
My arm and shoulder ached as I rose to my knees, only to see her right foot hovering playfully in the air before me.
I fought against the sudden urge to bite her big toe, just for spite.
“I’ve never done anything like that to you, either privately or in public, and I didn’t relish doing it just now,” she said. “When I first met you, you were practically afraid of your own shadow, and I’ve worked so damned hard to help build your self-esteem and self-confidence. Why then, would I ruin your progress?”
I was too angry with her at the moment to give her question a passing thought.
“You accused me of emasculating you. What a low blow, Caleb,” she said with narrowed eyes. “Oh, I’m sure your tender ego is bruised right now, but it’s important that you truly understand what the hell you’re talking about before you dare accuse me of harsh things like that. In fact, I feel very hurt and insulted that you’ve such a low opinion of me.”
To say I was still furious with her was an understatement of epic proportion. With one fluid motion, I rose to a standing position and glared daggers at her.
“Yes?” she asked. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone else about this. It’s just our little secret.”
My mouth opened to say something but I was too pissed off to respond. I’d only end up saying something I’d later regret.
Instead, I stormed from the room.
Dammit!
Maybe there’d been occasional extremes with Kat but she had never done anything to me like that before.
She’s way out of line this time!
I darted for the doorway to leave, reaching into my pocket for the keys to my SUV.
The air swirled around me and I felt my keys being snatched from my grip.
“Give ’em back,” I said.
She held up my keys and jingled them.
“No, you need to cool off first,” she said. “Take a walk if you have to sulk.”
Screw you!
“Whatever,” I said.
I barreled down the hallway, and on my way through the kitchen I snatched my wallet from atop the counter. Then I grabbed the SUV’s spare set of keys from inside the cabinet.
Satisfied that I’d outwitted her, I stormed through the door leading into the garage. With door knob in hand, I heard Kat’s voice calling after me.
“Leave me alone,” I said, slamming the door behind me with one hand while slapping the button that opened the garage door with the other.
I jumped into my SUV and started it up with a flick of my wrist. The tires squealed as I pulled out of the garage and onto the sunlit driveway.
I pressed the remote to close the garage door and caught a glimpse of two pale feet inside the garage as the door lowered.
Revving the engine, I came close to scraping the edges of the SUV against the wrought iron gates at the end of the driveway as they slowly swung open before me.
My cell phone rang but I pointedly ignored it.
It’s probably her, anyway.
Minutes later, I barreled down I-20 out of Mableton toward downtown Atlanta as Nine Inch Nails’ “Survivalism” blared over the speakers.
Weaving in and out of traffic, I relished the freedom of the open road and letting my vehicle’s tires grind away against the hot summer asphalt.
My cell phone rang on three separate occasions and I finally grabbed it and put it in silent mode before tossing it over my shoulder to the back of the vehicle.
That felt very liberating.
The bright sunny day ensured that no vampires, particularly one red-haired menace, would follow me.
Not yet, anyway.
By the time downtown Atlanta loomed before me, I was in the mood to get a beer. I wanted somewhere new and different, untainted by any previous experiences with Kat.
I needed somewhere where I could be alone to think.
To sulk, she’d said.
Whatever.
At the moment, I didn’t care either way.
I pulled into the parking lot of the first bar that looked interesting, a large warehouse-looking establishment called Old Skools. The overly large parking lot was lined with pine trees, giving it a secluded appearance.
There were only a few vehicles in the lot.
I glanced at my watch.
Late afternoon; too early for the evening rush.
I slammed the door shut on the SUV and walked toward the main entrance as the chirp-chirp from the vehicle’s alarm system sounded behind me.
The entrance to the place consisted of two large faded wood doors with blackened ornate crosses etched into them.
Old Skools? Surely this isn’t some church or something.
Who knew? Non-descript churches seemed all the rage in the Bible Belt in recent years.
I pulled one door open with a creak, only to be presented with a small, dark entry area that hosted another set of brushed metal doors adorned with industrial-sized bolts and rivets.
I heard the subdued thrumming of music.
Pulling one of those doors open revealed a large, roomy interior interspersed with square black columns and a dark tiled floor. Alien Sex Fiend’s “I Walk the Line” pounded over a speaker system.
Much like the parking lot, the place was devoid of patrons. However, I was somewhat surprised to see that the few customers present were dressed in leather, latex, PVC, and dark clothing like something from a fan gathering for The Matrix films.
Then it hit me.
Great, I’m either in a Goth rave or a dungeon.
Could I pick a place or what?
I half-considered turning on my heels and leaving.
“You’ve really gotta’ work on that outfit,” came a woman’s voice to my left.
I frowned and glanced down at my faded jeans and black T-shirt.
My gaze shifted to a woman wearing a fitted black leather dress and matching stilettos. Her black hair was in a bob and dark eyeliner gave her an edgy appearance.
Great, probably a dominatrix with my luck today.
“You’re no graver, but you could be a weekender with a little work,” she said.
“Stop harassing the customers, doomcookie,” the bartender called from behind a nearby black laminated countertop that looked like a narrow runway.
“Keep your smithing to yourself, Frankie,” she countered and shot him her middle finger.
I sighed, fully aware that I had definitely chosen the wrong establishment.
That’s what I get for stopping at the first place I come upon.
I turned to leave.
“Hey,” called the bartender. “Gonna’ have a drink?”
Glancing back over my shoulder at him, I reconsidered my options.
He seemed welcoming enough.
Aw, hell. W
hy not? The beer’s probably as cold as the next place, and I’m not here to make friends.
I walked over to the bar, noting the bartender’s nearly gray eyes and dark hair. His dark T-shirt was decorated with silver barbed wire imagery, which seemed strange for a bartender.
“What’ll ya’ have?” he asked.
“Whatever’s on tap that’s fully-leaded,” I said.
“Didn’t figure you for the light stuff,” he said.
He turned to pull a glass of Budweiser for me while I discreetly surveyed the place using the mirrored wall behind the bar. It was a useful trick that Paige had taught me earlier that spring.
It didn’t take long to assess where I was.
Yep, a Goth bar, for sure.
Paige would probably love the place.
My eyes caught the bartender’s curious gaze as he turned to place the glass of beer before me.
“Thanks,” I said as I placed a twenty-dollar bill on the countertop.
“No hurry. We’ll settle up before you leave,” he said.
I nodded and took a long swig from my glass. The cold beer tasted pretty good and felt soothing going down my dry throat.
“Nice place,” I said for lack of something better to say.
“Thanks,” he said with an amused expression. “Except you didn’t know it was a Goth bar until you walked inside, did you?”
I shrugged. “Maybe not.”
“Thought so,” he said. “Well, everyone’s pretty tame in here; no troublemakers or anything. I won’t have that.”
“Good to know, thanks,” I said. “Colorful clientele.”
The edges of his mouth upturned in wry amusement. “Takes all kinds in this world, doesn’t it?”
Too true.
“We just opened the doors for today, so the really serious crowds haven’t started coming in yet. But just wait, it gets more interesting. You already met Beth over there. She’s a local attorney, but most of the others are local college students or weekenders.”
I looked up into the mirror to gaze back at the woman who I’d met when I first came in.
I caught her stealing a glance at me, as well.
People will surprise you, I suppose.
“I’m Frank, but everyone calls me Frankie. You from around here?” he asked.
“Caleb,” I said. “From around Mableton.”
“Well, Caleb-from-around-Mableton, just call me when you’re ready for a refill. And in case I’m not around, we have two beautiful lady bartenders who can also help you,” he said before turning to line up bottles of liquor behind the counter.
“Sounds fine,” I said. “I’ll hang around a bit.”
I took another swig of beer. Then my mind returned to stewing over my ‘episode’ with Kat.
What the hell had gotten into her all of a sudden?
Chapter 6
Katrina
As soon as I heard the tires on Caleb’s SUV peeling out of the garage, I knew that I’d probably gone too far with him. But he’d really burned my ass with his insinuations over how I’ve injured his delicate masculinity.
Men are so damned sensitive when it comes to their egos.
Even so, Caleb had caught me off guard with his accusations.
How dare he accuse me of emasculating him, of all things?
I recalled how angry he’d been when he stormed out of the estate.
Just great. He probably thinks I’m a crazy bitch now.
I dialed his cell phone for the umpteenth time since he had left.
Voicemail again.
I sent him yet another text message and waited.
Minutes passed as I thrummed my fingernails against the granite kitchen countertop.
He’s ignoring me.
I slapped the countertop, being careful not to hit it too hard. I’d already had it replaced once since I’d moved in.
It had taken decades to master my own strength, and there had been so many broken things to replace over the years.
Hell, so many broken people, as well. Humans are so very fragile.
But I had been careful with Caleb earlier. The only thing damaged was his ego.
I rubbed at my eyes with my fingertips as I sat down at my computer console in our bedroom.
Our bedroom…where we’ll probably not be having sex for some time after what I did.
“Men,” I said, tossing my cell phone over onto the bed. I’d just keep texting or calling otherwise.
A longing washed through me as I recalled the last time that we had made love on that big, soft bed; that glorious, wonderful location where I could spend a lifetime with him.
I sighed as our argument replayed in my mind
It had to be Paige that got into his head again.
Wasn’t it?
I logged into the web-based environment that allowed me to track the transmitter in Caleb’s SUV. Fortunately, I’ve never mentioned that technological aid to him or he’d probably have simply walked away from the house this afternoon.
I did tell him to take a walk, after all.
Then again, I could’ve tracked him by that chip that I placed into his shoulder back in Slovenia, too.
I absently watched as the miniature blip associated with his SUV moved across the on-screen map.
What am I going to do about him?
“I could always let him do something humiliating to me, if he wanted,” I said.
I couldn’t help but smile at that. The man didn’t have a harsh bone in his body, which was yet another reason that I loved him so dearly.
A pang of guilt shot through me as I realized how my self-control had lapsed with him, allowing my own harsh side to come through a bit more strongly that might have been prudent.
He really knows how to push my buttons sometimes.
I queued up some music on the computer and The Lady Lamb the Beekeeper’s “Hair to the Ferris Wheel” started to play.
I recalled the angry expression on his face as he glared up at me from his prone position on the floor. A feeling of guilt washed over me as I realized how satisfied I’d felt at that moment.
Okay, maybe I’m an evil bitch, but it’s really kind of hot to have a sexy guy at your feet.
I sighed with a bitter realization.
It’s better when he actually wants to.
Dammit, I’ve worked so hard to bolster his self-image and self-confidence, sexual and otherwise.
The truth was that I’d finally found a man who knew how to please me, and someone who I loved more than eternal life itself.
In his own sincere way, he already worships me.
So what the hell is wrong with me?
Thinking back, all of those years of partnering with alpha males had been such an infuriating waste of time and effort. I’d spent more time fighting with them for dominance in the relationship or uncovering their ulterior motives instead of being able to enjoy an honest, open relationship with them.
Which was another reason that I’d killed all but one of them in the end.
But Caleb changed all that. He didn’t challenge me for the alpha role in the relationship; instead he selflessly offered me kindness, honesty, and trust.
And love.
I smiled at that thought.
Then another realization dawned on me.
Truth be told, I know it really turns him on when I’m being assertive with him.
Then again, he is a beta male, after all.
Either way, I’d do most anything to please him.
It’s all about him. Doesn’t he realize that?
He still doesn’t understand that he’s the one who actually commands me most of the time, albeit subtly.
There’s virtually nothing I wouldn’t do to fulfill his needs.
Heaven help me if he ever realizes that in full. I may lose all influence over him then.
Except regarding issues involving his security and welfare.
I’ll never relinquish those.
However, as with today, I’d l
et the ‘bitch out of the barn’ a little too much with him.
Still, it’s a woman’s prerogative to overreact on occasion, right?
I glanced up at the screen to note that Caleb’s SUV had stopped, so I zoomed in on the location.
“Old Skools?”
A quick Google search revealed what I needed to know.
“A Goth bar?”
Okay, that confused me a little bit. I couldn’t recall him ever going to a Goth bar before.
I glanced at the clock and sighed, realizing there were still a couple of hours of prime daylight left before I could do anything.
Well, kudos to him for making his grand escape in the afternoon. I can’t go after him until after sunset or I’ll be burned to a crisp.
I went back upstairs to heat up a ceramic mugful of blood in the microwave.
As I waited, a thought struck me and I raced to the phone near the counter, causing a stack of mail to flutter onto the floor.
I dialed with one hand while tossing the mail back onto the countertop.
“Hello, Sexy Blondes Incorporated,” answered a familiar perky voice.
“Paige, I need your help,” I said. “Caleb stormed off a little earlier.”
“Another fight, huh? What up with dat’, girlfriend?” she asked in a sarcastic tone.
“Paige,” I growled.
I had a sneaky suspicion she knew more about it than she was letting on.
Being careful not to reveal any details that might embarrass Caleb, I quickly explained to her a little of what had happened.
As we talked, I went upstairs to the second floor master bedroom that was rarely used. I fleetingly recalled how Caleb and I had made love for the first time in that room.
“And you say he went to a Goth club?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, while rummaging through the lesser-used clothes that I’d stored in the closet.
Suddenly, I spied an outfit that just might fit the occasion.
“Shorty, you’re the only one of us who’s currently equipped for a daytime mission,” I said.
My limited mobility during daylight was something I intended to address in the not-too-distant future.
“Please, just talk to him and see if you can coax him to return home,” I said.
“C’mon, Red,” she said. “Let the kid blow off some steam; give him a little space. You smother him sometimes, if you ask me.”