Fear in Her Eyes (Fire & Vice Book 5)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Sneak peek – Book 6: Bound by Blood
Bonus – Excerpt from Book 3: King's Command
Bonus – Excerpt from Book 4: Savage Vendetta
Other books by Nikita Slater
Connect with Nikita!
Copyright © 2017 Nikita Slater
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
ISBN 978-0-9958624-0-1
Book five of Fire & Vice
Fear in Her Eyes
by Nikita Slater
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Sneak peek – Book 6: Bound by Blood
Bonus – Excerpt from Book 3: King's Command
Bonus – Excerpt from Book 4: Savage Vendetta
Other books by Nikita Slater
Connect with Nikita!
CHAPTER ONE
He didn't believe in telepathy or the unexplained. If there wasn't an explanation for something, then that explanation just hadn't been discovered yet. The fact that he knew Addison Sterling was standing down the hall on the other side of a solid steel door from where he stood was simply heightened senses and intuition. He was in tune with this woman's every movement, every breath, every heartbeat. He imagined, if he closed his eyes he would know at any given moment where she stood in her apartment. Right now she was preparing to leave, like she did every morning at the same time. If she belonged to him, he would break her of that dangerous habit.
Lucky for her, she would never belong to him.
She stepped out of her door and turned gracefully on her ballet flats, her long white and blue pattered dress swishing around her legs. Her long, slim fingers unerringly found the lock on the door, where she inserted the key as she'd done a thousand times and turned it. Dropping the key into a small knit purse, which was strapped across her body, separating the lovely mounds of her breasts over the elasticized top of her dress. She bent her knees and reached to pick up the leather case containing her cello.
As he did every morning when he came down to her floor, he ruthlessly stopped himself from reaching out to snatch the case from her, the muscles under his shirt bunching in anger. The case was too big for her. She was too fragile. She loved it too much, far more than she loved anything else. He wanted to take it from her and destroy it. Which confused him. He didn't usually have impulse control issues.
She strode confidently toward the elevator, stopping only steps from where he stood, and reached for the button, her fingers so close to his stomach she nearly touched him. He planned it that way, imagined for a second what it would feel like if she did touch him. The elevator dinged, letting her know it had arrived. She waited for approximately three heartbeats and then stepped forward as the doors swished back. He stepped out in unison. As the doors closed, she turned to face them. He used the sound of the elevators closing to move swiftly around her.
Confident she was alone, she relaxed her stance, allowing her shoulders to soften. He stood so close to her back that if she'd leaned just a little she would've touched him. It was worth the risk for him to be able to reach out and touch the ends of her soft, wavy chestnut hair. To lean in close and smell the delicate tropical, flowery lotion she used on her skin after her morning shower. He inhaled deeply, savouring her scent, imagining her in the marble bathroom of her condo, naked, rubbing the hemp lotion over her curves in circular motions, as was her routine.
In his desperation to be near Addison, he must've gotten closer than he'd dared before, because she suddenly went rigid beneath the shadow of his body. Her face snapped to the side, her lips nearly brushing his where he'd bent into her neck. Her blank, dark eyes were wide with apprehension.
He stopped breathing. Not for fear of being caught. He was more than capable of taking down a dozen mercenaries, let alone one small blind woman. No, he needed to protect her. For some reason he cared for Addison Sterling, and if he got involved with her, he would hurt her, probably irreparably. The black part of his soul already called for him to reach out and grab her, to make her beg, to subjugate her, to hunt, hurt and humiliate her. Already, he couldn't leave her alone. He'd never experienced such driving need to possess a woman. At best he usually considered them unnecessary distractions that he usually avoided.
Somehow Addison was different.
"Is someone there?" she whispered, the sweet warmth of her breath rushing over him.
His cock answered her, though he stayed silent. His pupils dilated and he vibrated with the effort not to grab her, pin her to the wall of the elevator, tear her ugly dress away, force her onto her knees and enjoy the fear in her eyes while he took that beautiful mouth of hers.
The door dinged and Addison jumped, her head snapping forward once more. She visibly shook herself, pushing her shoulders back and forcing her confidence back on like a cloak of independence she wore whenever she left her apartment. "Stupid Addie," she said beneath her breath, before stepping off the elevator. He watched her like the predator he was as she shook open her white cane, smiled and cheerfully greeted the concierge. The elevator doors closed, cutting off his view of her. He wanted to go after her. To follow her and speak to her like a normal man would.
He couldn't. He was a savage through and through. He'd seen and done things normal men couldn't even imagine. That was why he was Tyson King's head of security. That was why he couldn't have Addison Sterling.
Unfortunately for her, he cou
ldn't seem to let her go. Her lush curves, delicate beauty and helpless attempts at independence called to the predator in him like nothing else. He knew, eventually, he would answer that call.
CHAPTER TWO
Addison's lips stretched in a tight smile as she greeted Oscar at the concierge desk. He was always so kind to her, and indeed, rushed to hold open the door for her. Shaking off the chill she'd felt in the elevator, she forced her smile to come more naturally and thanked the older man before stepping lightly onto the pavement. It wasn't like her to get spooked so easily. After all, she'd lived in perpetual darkness her entire life, if she allowed herself to become jumpy over every little thing she would live in a state of constant anxiety and become a complete shut in. She couldn't abide the thought of that. She was way too interesting of a person not to share herself with the world.
But for a moment there, as she stood in the rapidly descending elevator she could have sworn that she’d felt something. A presence in the elevator with her. An elevator she would have sworn was empty when she'd stepped on. A shiver had run down her spine as her heightened senses picked up the tiniest hint of a masculine scent. Not cologne, or anything strong, but something natural, like warm male skin. It was so subtle she would have thought she was imagining it, except she had learned to trust in those senses long ago to compensate for her lack of sight. It must have been just the impression of a man who'd been on the elevator before her.
Taking a breath of the warm, exhaust filled air, Addison turned right. With her cane, she walked the fifteen steps to the corner. She listened carefully for footfalls against the pavement indicating oncoming foot traffic. Most people politely moved out of her way when they saw her cane, but some who weren't paying attention. Without being able to determine their size, she had occasionally taken an elbow in the chest or been sent flying into a window. People were generally kind and apologetic, but that didn't cure a painful bruise, so she learned to be careful.
Addison quickly made her way down to her usual subway line and waited at her usual pillar, approximately two steps to the left of and ten steps in front of where the door would open when the train arrived. Her colleagues always found it astounding that she would use the subway alone. They didn't understand how a blind woman could navigate the city with such ease. She just smiled vaguely and waved off their amazement and concern. What they hadn't seen was the painstaking hours she had put in when she’d first moved to the city to count every single step. The endless maps she created and memorized in her head that she retraced on a daily basis so she would never get lost. She often went back to certain streets and parks just to make sure that the maps were still accurate and to draw out new ones when the city changed or expanded.
She had gotten lost many times during her first year in the city and fought back panic attacks as she forced herself to find her way back to a familiar place. Some might call her brave. She could think of at least two people that would call her stubbornly stupid. Or was that stupidly stubborn? Whichever. She had lived in one of the seediest parts of town then, too. She was pretty sure her parents had upped her life insurance policy at that point in her self discovery journey.
She had done exactly as she'd sworn she would do though. She'd moved to the big city by herself, worked on her music, eventually caught the notice of one of the greatest cellist’s in the world and created a name for herself in one of the best orchestra’s in the country. Now she was First Chair in that same orchestra despite being one of its youngest members. Addison was tough, driven and precise. Yet she played with such passion and natural talent that the others could rarely keep up with her. Their relatively new maestro, who had replaced Addison's mentor two years earlier, often lamented that she wasn't a violinist like himself, which sometimes led to good-natured debates on the merits of their respective instruments.
Addison disembarked at the station nearest to the symphony, several stops away from her condominium. The symphony hall was in a busy, trendy district of downtown filled with shopping and restaurants. She made her way up to street level and paused to adjust her sharp hearing to the abrupt rise in noise level. She shifted the heavy, but comforting leather cello case so it wouldn't bang against her knee as much and began walking.
"Addison!"
She turned her head with a smile and stopped for Mikhail Lewinsky, her friend and colleague in the orchestra. She wasn't surprised to hear him rushing toward her. Mikhail was always in a rush. Like her, he preferred city transit to a car and had no doubt just disembarked from his bus. They often ran into each other on this corner. He approached on her left and gently took her elbow in his hand, which was her preference, since she needed her right hand for her cane.
"How are you today Mikhail?" she asked brightly.
The Polish man dug around in his coat pocket for something, juggling his instrument and bumping her elbow. He blew his nose loudly. "I am okay, as you see I'm not quite myself today."
Addison bit back a smile. Mikhail was never himself. He was a man of perpetual woes unless he was in the company of his extremely pious and opinionated wife, whom he happened to be very much in love with. Then he was magically all better. Mikhail also had a habit of commenting about Addison's ability to 'see' like he never noticed she was blind, which she found funny. She never corrected him.
They made their way into the back of the theatre together and followed the chatter into the rehearsal room. Addison was immediately whisked away by Erica Pennington, Maestro's assistant, for some administrative work. After half an hour of the other woman's presence, Addison had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping. She really tried, each and every time she came to work, to remind herself to be nice to this person. No one else in the orchestra bothered. The Maestro treated her like an annoying espresso-fetching squirrel-type person who was union and non-fireable, and everyone else saw her as an in-the-way, one-screw-loose kind of person that could talk for an hour without ever actually saying anything.
Addison went out of her way to try and include Erica whenever possible, especially in social situations. This had the unenviable side-effect of Erica believing they were practically BFFs and the rest of the orchestra keeping their distance when Addison's 'friend' was near.
"Erica, I have to get to my seat. I think they're about to start and I have a solo in the first movement," Addison said, trying to soften the edge she knew was present in her voice.
"Oh, of course! I just wanted to make sure you're okay with Maestro signing you up for Mrs. Channing's birthday bash.” Erica rushed in, following Addison when she tried to edge away. "I know you prefer not to do these private engagements, even though they're in everyone’s contracts, not that I blame you one bit! But he was pretty insistent that the old woman wanted no one else but you since she saw you in last season's show. And who can blame her, you're so beautiful and talented and..."
"Whoa!" Addison said sharply. "Thanks Erica, but I really do need to get back to the orchestra now, I won't have time to warm up. I can do the birthday party, tell Maestro it's fine."
"Oh, wonderful!" Erica clapped her hands together and seized Addison's right arm, throwing her off balance. Addison stumbled and then straightened up, annoyed. She would have pulled her arm away, but she learned ages ago that Erica wasn't easily deterred from her 'task' of leading the blind woman around like a cow.
"The birthday bash is Saturday. I'll come get you in a town car and we can go together!" Erica sounded way more excited than Addison thought was necessary. Once more she reached for patience when Erica took her hand and placed it on the back of her chair.
Addison pasted a fake grateful smile on her face. She hated being grateful to others for guiding her when it was completely unnecessary. "Thanks Erica, but I'll find my own way." She sat, turned her back and her mind away from the other woman and reached for her cello.
***
Saturday
"Oh my goodness, it’s her!” squealed Eleanor Channing loudly enough that Addison was certain even the kitchen staff wer
e aware someone important had arrived.
Addison's lips twitched in humour and she almost wished she wasn't blind just so she could see the looks of consternation on the other guests faces as they craned their necks to look toward where Mrs. Channing was pointing excitedly. Given the elderly woman's wealth and status, they probably expected a famous actor or at least a politician. Instead they were left pondering a somewhat mismatched, curvy woman wearing sunglasses indoors.
She grinned and waved. She felt someone approach her left side, deftly remove her cello for her and take her elbow.
"Couldn't find the servants entrance, love?" asked Maestro.
Addison shrugged. "What's the fun in that?"
He sighed and led her through the crowd toward the corner where a chair had been set up for her. He'd specifically asked Mrs. Channing to await her greetings and accolades until after the set. "Is this my punishment for forcing you to take these engagements? In that tuxedo and sunglasses you look like a white Ray Charles. Would it have killed you to wear a gown, Addison? You know I would choose another if it were possible, but they all want you. You should be flattered."
Addison took the seat he led her to and held her hand out for her case. "I'd much rather be flattered in the comfort of my own home. Just one weekend, Charles. That's all I want,” she grumbled as she bent over to snap the case open. “Just one weekend away from pimping the darn orchestra. I thought Erica was supposed to be here?"
“I sent her out to buy your favourite brand of sparkling water, my dear. So you would be at your best during the performance,” he said, taking her case once she’d removed her cello and bow.
She turned in his direction. “I didn’t know I have a preference of sparkling water, Charles.”
“You can thank me later, Addison. The brand I chose is very difficult to find, you’ll probably be finished and possibly gone before she gets back.”
Despite her somewhat odd entrance and appearance, Addison won over even the worst music skeptic in the room. It was clear that when she played, everything around her faded to nothing and she entered a world where only she and the instrument existed. Energy snapped around her as each note took on life and meaning for a split second before it was replaced by another and then another. Her audience was enthralled as she played quickly through her set. And when the last note died away, silence filled the room. Only Maestro moved, used as he was to her ability to spellbind.