First Frost

by A Lyrical Press Anthology

  Wait. He squinted and blinked hard. As she painted her toenails in the front lobby?

  No one else seemed to be paying attention to her inappropriateness. She stared at her feet as she worked, unblinking, as if each stroke hypnotized her. Something was wrong. Her phone trilled from her purse but she acted as if she didn’t hear it, and at the ceaseless sound, people started to take notice.

  “Hayes! Have you heard anything I’ve been telling you?” Tristan, his replacement, asked. Liam’s replacement was already striding for the elevator.

  “Uhh, sorry man.”

  Tristan squinted, looked from him to the girl in the red dress and nodded. “Ahh, I get it. She’s hot alright. Look, I don’t care what you do tonight, but you better be here to relieve me by eight in the morning.”

  Graham still hadn’t taken his eyes from the girl, but he clapped Tristan on the back. “Have I ever let you down?” He headed for the strange woman.

  “No,” Tristan called. “Now’s not the time to start either. Eight o’clock.”

  Graham loosened his tie as he approached and stood over her. Clearing his throat, he said “Are you okay, Ms...”

  Silence, except for the rhythmic miniature brush over her nails.

  “Ms...”

  Slowly she shifted her gaze to him. Soft and gray, made even brighter by all the dark makeup, her eyes were glazed and she seemed to look right through him. Into his soul, if he’d had one. A poignant pain pierced him. He smelled it then. Sickness. She’d die soon. Why did that realization hurt so badly? Like a twisting of his innards that left his body in the knot of a dead man’s noose. He was helpless to leave, but it hurt to stay there, trapped in her empty stare. She was too damn beautiful and young to be this sick.

  “Waste,” she whispered.

  He squatted beside her until he was on eyelevel with her. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

  “They don’t even know this is my last night with them,” she said in an emotionless monotone.

  “Who?”

  Like the filling of an empty well, life returned to her eyes. Her dark, perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed. “My friends. They’ll be here any minute.” She looked around as if she didn’t know where she was. “They should’ve called by now.”

  “I think they did. Your phone was ringing.”

  Wide-eyed, she held up the tiny brush tipped in glossy red, and a look of sheer mortification came over her. “Oh my gosh,” she breathed.

  Yep, others had definitely taken notice. Gary held up a phone with a questioning glance. Graham shook his head. No need for security on this one.

  She dumped her purse onto the table with shaking hands and a small mountain of feminine bejeweled gadgets fell out. “Where is it, where is it?” she murmured, sifting through the sparkling rubble.

  As her elegant hand landed on an orange pill bottle, she sighed, a trembling breath. He stood and jogged to Gary, begged a sparkling water and was back before she’d even managed to open the lid. “Here, let me,” he said, handing her the drink. “How many?”

  “Two.”

  He dropped the white pills that looked like harmless aspirin and smelled much more potent into her outstretched hand. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, he’d been careful not to touch her skin. Her sickness wasn’t catching, but the thought of brushing his skin against hers seemed dangerous somehow.

  As she shoveled the paraphernalia back into her purse, her phone rang again and she answered it. “Sorry, I’ll be right there.”

  Her full red lips turned up in a tremulous smile but she didn’t meet his eyes. The loss of seeing their gray beauty was an unexplainable lash against the flesh of his heart. Desperately, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay to be going out in your condition?”

  With a steely glance, she snorted. “My condition is none of your business.”

  Well, she had a point. He didn’t know a thing about her, so why was he still standing there, taking up space next to her? “Fair enough.” He pulled out his wallet and dropped a business card into her purse. “Call me if you get into too much trouble.”

  “Is this how you pick up women?” She pulled his card out and scanned it. “You drop your card and walk away so we can see the fancy job you work and run after you?”

  She wobbled on her way up so he gripped her elbow. Sensation zinged through him, and he jerked away. Frowning at his fingertips, he said, “Oh yeah. Telling women I’m a mediocre paid bodyguard has them flocking to my bed. Was just trying to help, is all.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I just thought— I don’t know what I thought.”

  “Great, well I have work early. Are your friends here? If so, I’ll walk you out.”

  “Linden.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “My name’s Linden Ashby.”

  The way her name rolled off of her lips was probably the sexiest thing he’d ever encountered. With effort, he drew his gaze from the glossy red and smiled politely so she wouldn’t see the devil in him. “Graham Hayes.”

  She perched her fingers into the crook of his proffered arm, and he rolled his eyes heavenward in silent thanks that there were two layers of cloth beneath her touch. The last thing he needed was his wolf thinking he needed to get laid tonight. This one seemed too risky by a lot. If his pack mates saw him so wobbly in the knees over a human, they’d never let him live it down. “Where’re you going tonight?”

  She gave a wicked smile that made his heart thump against his ribcage. “Why, you going to stalk me?”

  Surprised, he huffed a chuckle. “Just making conversation, is all.”

  He held open the door and followed her down the burgundy cloth-covered steps to the black limousine waiting for her. The doorman held open the door, and three smiling women were framed in the doorway. “Linden!” they called.

  A red-headed woman made a claw with bright pink fingernails and winked. “Who’s your date?” she asked.

  Linden pursed her lips and giggled. “I’m sorry about them. These are my friends. Meredith is the one waggling her eyebrows. That’s Lauren and Diana. Ladies, this is Graham. He saved me from some embarrassment tonight.”

  “Well, come on!” Meredith called to him.

  “Mere,” Linden answered through what sounded like gritted teeth. “He’s not my date.”

  Right, that was his cue. “You ladies enjoy your night. Make good decisions,” he called, pulling away from Linden. He bowed his head. “It was nice to meet you.”

  “Ha! Yeah, that was an awesome impression I made on you.”

  “First impressions aren’t everything.”

  Her expression fell and the corner of her mouth twitched. “First impressions are all I have, Mr. Hayes. Thanks for the water.” She slid into the limo, and it drove through the dark slushy snow and away from him.

  He clacked his mouth closed and pulled his phone out. Linden Ashby, he typed into the search engine and was rewarded right away. The first link advertised posts from a site called The Adventures of a Real Life Zombie and outlined Linden’s three-year battle for her health, complete with a cartoon, buck-toothed blob named Toomey that danced across the header.

  He muttered an oath. Jerking his head in the direction the limo had gone, he started to jog. He was about to do something so stupid it could get him killed—and the biggest part of him was convinced it would be worth it.

  Chapter 3

  “That man was delicious,” Meredith said into Linden’s ear over the blaring music in the limo. “Why the hell didn’t you bring him along?”

  Why hadn’t she? Because he knew she was sick and pitied her, that’s why. When she’d come back to reality, there he’d been, a real life, sexy suited knight in shining Armani, and he’d witnessed her painting her danged toes in public like a lunatic. Nope. Sympathetic looks all night weren’t what she had in mind. She needed a lover who was oblivious to how broken she was. Meredith didn’t have to know that, though.

  “He wasn’t my type.”

  Meredith’s green
eyes were the size of flying saucers. “Your type isn’t gorgeous?”

  So she had a point. Graham Hayes had destroyed the human mold and slid right into demigod territory. His dark brown hair was cropped short and his chiseled jaw housed two perfect dimples under radiant sky blue eyes. Even the slight lines etched into his perfectly masculine face said he smiled a lot, and the way his muscles worked against his suit revealed he was every bit as fit as his V-shaped jacket suggested. And he was tall. Not lanky, but built like an unwavering redwood. Though he’d been self-deprecating about his occupation, she’d watched The Bodyguard so many times, she’d finally given in and bought the danged movie a few years back. He was exactly her type.

  If she weren’t dying.

  “Shots!” she yelled, successfully putting a happy smile back on Meredith’s face. Her best friend was many things, easily distracted among them.

  One stiff drink of whiskey later, and the limo stopped in front of a ritzy nightclub called The Boom Boom Room. “Heh,” she chuckled as they piled out of the stretch. Aptly named for her intentions.

  “So,” Meredith said with a squeal, tugging her hand and trailing Lauren and Diana, “my boss rented this place out for the holiday party and everyone who’s anyone will be there.”

  “How much do drinks cost at a place like this?” Linden asked, sliding on a slick patch of late autumn frost. The frigid night air turned to matching chugs of steam in front of their faces, and she rubbed her gooseflesh-covered arms.

  “Who cares? You won’t be buying a single drink in that dress, honey. We’ll be fending the boys off you all night.”

  Dark with red lit-up accents, The Boom Boom Room had a circular bar. Meredith made a beeline for a group of co-workers gathered around it, and Linden followed her and the other girls with a polite wave for the small horde of expectantly smiling, half-schnockered friendlies. Introductions dragged on for eternity until Linden felt the first dust bunny swirls of dizziness and excused herself to the bathroom to medicate in the peace of an empty stall. When she emerged feeling a little more present, the girls were nowhere to be found. The crowd had grown substantially, and she tugged at the hem of her skirt, self-conscious. How did one secure a one-night-stand?

  Hey, you wanna diddle? My name’s Linden, let’s do the dance without the pants?

  For crap’s sakes, she couldn’t even flirt right.

  “Let me buy you a drink,” a man said in her ear.

  “Aack!” she squawked. Where had he come from?

  He looked decent. Shorter and no dimples and his hair was blond, but well, time wasn’t on her side...so, okay.

  “Gin and tonic,” she said with what she fervently hoped was a flirtatious smile.

  “Brack,” he introduced himself as he offered a gray suited arm.

  “Linden.”

  He pulled her toward the bar, weaving in and out of the murmuring crowd.

  He said something to a man sitting in a plush chair at the bar top and the man tipped his head to her as he stood to offer his seat. Once settled and with drink in hand, Brack gave her a wide smile. His perfectly straight and blindingly white teeth were mesmerizing in the dim red light. “Tell me about yourself,” he purred in a voice dripping with huskiness and liquid velvet.

  Linden opened her mouth to lie but a giant of a man shoved his way between them. “She’s taken,” he said. Warning permeated every word. “That’s all you need to know.”

  Brack’s face went slack with whatever he saw in the intruder’s face, and he scurried off to find an easier meal. Graham took his seat.

  “What the hell?” Linden breathed. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Saving you from that bad decision. You’re welcome.”

  Was he serious? She looked around, surprised everyone around her wasn’t as offended at his audacity as she was. “Who I choose to talk to is none of your business!”

  “You’re in no condition for this and you know it.”

  “I’m in no— Are you insane? You don’t even know me!”

  “Ma’am,” a pudgy man with a cocky smile said, “is he bothering you?”

  “Yes.”

  “No,” Graham said through gritted teeth simultaneously.

  The man left under Graham’s thunderous glare. Son-of-a-biscuit-eater. She was being cock-blocked by a sexy giant in a suit. Or the equivalent, if she’d actually sported a cock.

  Even giants compromised though, and if she had to use underhanded tricks, she’d do it with little remorse. He was killing her mission. “Look, I’m going to level with you. I want to get laid tonight.”

  He snorted. “Obviously. You don’t dress like that and come to a place like this with a chastity belt welded to your undies, Linden. Are you ready to go?”

  Was he out of his mind? “No, I’m not ready to go. I’m dying, you creeper, and I want one last joyride. A joyride which you are single handedly slamming the brakes on. You’re like, the opposite of the Make a Wish foundation!”

  His mouth twitched with humor, and he arched an eyebrow. “I’ll do it.”

  She choked on the gin and tonic she was furiously sipping. Little sprinkles of liquor flew onto the crotch of his suit, and she awkwardly patted it with the drink napkin.

  His grin was infuriating. “So that’s a yes?”

  She stood and spun away from him. “I’m going to find my friends.”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her into his immovable chest. His strong hands gripped the small of her back until the material of her dress bunched and he leveled a look at her with those sensuous blue eyes of his. Her heart beat like the pounding of a bass drum. He was so close, his breath tickled her hair and the warmth of his body seeped into her marrow.

  Why were her traitorous lips throbbing with wanting to touch them to his? Slowly, he leaned forward until only an inch stretched between them. It felt like a mile, like way too much distance still lay between his skin and hers. Her skin was aflame where he brushed the back of her low cut dress with his thumb. He covered her mouth with his and as his tongue grazed her teeth, a tiny, helpless noise escaped her.

  Oh Mylanta, she was melting. In seconds, she’d be a worthless puddle on the floor and they’d have to mop her up to avoid a lawsuit fall.

  A delicious rumbling noise reverberated deep in his throat, and she clutched his suit jacket until her knuckles hurt.

  “Say yes,” he whispered, teasing her with the closeness of his lips.

  Her head swam as if she were in a giant whirlpool. She’d have said yes then and there, but he’d kissed her so thoroughly, she didn’t remember her own danged name at the moment. She shook off the dizziness. “I don’t want a relationship.” Oh God, she was cock-blocking herself now. Stop talking! Retreat.

  “Nor do I.”

  “And I don’t want a pity-diddle.”

  His laugh was so abrupt, she jumped. “Pity-diddle?” He pressed her palm on the seat of his stiff pants. “You’re a beautiful woman. I swear I won’t talk about you being sick anymore. We’ll do this right. One night, no feelings. I won’t even make you breakfast in the morning. That’s how a one-night-stand is done. Right?”

  “Fine.” For lack of any other ideas, she held out her hand for him to shake. “I agree to our business arrangement then.”

  His lips twisted into a bitter line, one that seemed completely at odds with his face. “Great.”

  Abandoning her half-spittled libation, she padded across the plush carpet as he pulled her toward the exit.

  “Wait, now? I have to tell my friends!”

  “Call them.”

  Touché to the genius gargantuan man. She scrambled to find her phone in her cluttered purse and dialed Meredith.

  “Where are you?” her friend asked. “We’re over by the windows on the couches. You have to see the view of the city!”

  Oh geez, she was the worst friend ever. Abandoning her friends within the first half hour of her goodbye night with them? No problem. Apparently she’d do anything for dimples. “M
ere, don’t be mad, but I’m leaving with a guy.”

  “Wait, what? Linden Ashby is leaving with a guy?” Her tinkling voice sounded mock scandalized. “Who? Do I know him?”

  She weaved in and out of the crowd behind Graham. “You met him earlier. At the hotel. He came and found me here.”

  “Gasp! Okay, tell me where you’re going. If you don’t call in an hour, we’re coming to save you.”

  Linden couldn’t help smiling. Meredith was her best friend for good reason. “Back to the hotel. Room eight fifteen. I’ll call you soon.” She hung up in the middle of her friend’s squeal.

  Outside, Graham hailed a taxi with the confidence of a native New Yorker.

  “Do you live around her?” she asked.

  “Nah, I live across town. Small paycheck, remember?”

  “Mmm. Same here.”

  A taxi stopped for them. He held the door open and climbed in beside her. “What do you do for a living?”

  “Nothing now. Brain’s on the fritz, remember? I was a court reporter, though. You know, those people who type out word for word transcriptions of the cases as they’re happening? That was me. How’d you find me, anyway?”

  “I Googled you. And then I read part of your little online diary.”

  She frowned. “It’s called a blog.”

  He wrapped his hand around hers and the warmth of the gesture turned her insides molten. Holding hands with a man had never felt so intimate before, yet there she was with moments left in her life, and feelings she hadn’t known existed were stirring her to an inferno. Suddenly, a fling with Graham seemed like a very good idea.

  Chapter 4

  Graham stayed crouched by Linden’s bedside as her breathing slowed. He’d killed her and she didn’t even know it yet. His teeth marks against the tender flesh of her neck had curled inward until only a red mark remained. By the time anyone found her, all traces of his Lycan venom would be gone. He’d kept his pack’s secret, and given her an easy death. She’d go quietly into the night, not screaming into insanity before she passed, leaving friends and family traumatized over their last memories of the beautiful, vibrant woman.