by Angel Lawson
Even in the shadows, I could see the flash of anger pass across his face at the mention of his shirt. It was brief, only a there for a moment. Okay, maybe we hadn’t worked through that yet.
"Well, yes, you did massacre my shirt. But I guess that makes us even?" he said this as a question and his jaw arranged in a slight grin.
The grin softened his features and I noticed his eyes pulsed, dilating a shade darker. The weariness I’d seen earlier was back, obvious in the dark rings under his eyes. I wondered if he was as tired as I felt. I leaned my head back and rubbed my inflamed wrist, suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion.
"Does it hurt badly?" he asked and gestured to my arm, his voice soft with concern. I closed my eyes for a moment and soaked up the richness of his voice. My mind wandered for a moment and I wondered if he could sing. "Amelia…" his voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
"No, it's okay,” I said, and held it up for him to see. "I bruise easily, I'm sure it appears worse than it actually is."
He stared for a moment at the splotchy skin. Suddenly he blurted, "Will you come back to work? I'm afraid in the two weeks you've worked for me I've become quite dependent." I checked his expression to see if he was serious and to my astonishment, he appeared sincere. "I promise to back off some and act like an appropriate boss. And no more scrubbing the furniture." His lips curved into the most dangerous smile I'd ever seen.
"I'll think about it," I said, not sure, but afraid if he kept smiling at me like that I would agree to just about anything he asked.
He frowned but wrapped his fingers around the door handle, pushing it open. I followed his lead and got out of my side of the car.
"I'm fine from here. Thanks for the ride.”
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm walking you in," he said. His demeanor back to annoyed.
"Fine," I replied, once again trying to determine if I wanted a seat on the emotional roller coaster of Grant Palmer.
We walked together up the stairs to my second floor apartment. I fished for my keys in my purse, pulled them. He offered a courteous, "Let me," and he quickly took the keys from my grasp and unlocked the door. I had a terrifying moment of wondering if I should ask him in but sighed with relief when he dangled the keys in front of me to take.
"Goodnight, Ms. Chase," he said. “Please consider returning to work. If you decline my offer, I will draft a referral letter and send it to you next week.”
"Goodnight," I replied, unable to commit. "And thank you."
I watched as he stepped around the corner. Exhausted and spent, I closed the door and stumbled into bed.
Chapter 22
Grant
Later, I stood in the shadows listening to the sounds of the night as a slight breeze whispered across my face. I touched the key in my pocket, rubbing the grooves over and over, memorizing the pattern.
It was late. The apartment was quiet except for the sounds of sleep. Drew had come home an hour earlier and fallen into bed without checking on Amelia. His breathing and heart rate were steady and even. Clearly, he was unaware of the horrors his roommate had suffered that night.
I’d returned out of some instinctive need to see her. If I had to explain why I wouldn’t have the words to do so. Her home was locked and safe. I'd delivered her there myself, yet I felt the compulsion to see her. I slipped the stolen key into the lock and silently twisted the knob until I felt the click of the chambers as they released.
I moved inside, shut the door, and quietly replaced the key on Amelia's key ring by the door. I entered the living room and inhaled deeply. The result was a burning desire, harsh and painful, but it signaled the one thing I wanted.
Amelia.
I wanted her alive much more than I wanted her dead. That wasn’t to say her scent didn’t ignite my hunger. It did. The difference was that I could resist it. I wouldn’t harm Amelia. Now I wanted to immerse myself in her. Protect her.
I crossed the living room until I stood outside her door. Entering quietly, a thin sliver of light traveled across her face. She slept in her bed, curled on her side, wrapped in a mass of sheets. Her blonde hair was tangled and snarled, splayed across the pillow. My eyes traveled the lines of her body, assessing how her hands were clenched under her chin, balled into tiny fists. Her bruised wrist pulsed with heat in the dark.
I picked up the blouse she had worn that evening and pushed it to my nose, burying myself in her exquisite aroma. Dizzy with lust, I found another shirt on her dresser and inhaled. Intoxicating.
Amelia shifted in the bed, rolling to the opposite side, moaning. I dropped the shirt and froze.
I watched her lips and waited, the pink tint visible to my sensitive eyes in the dark. I held my breath, unnecessarily straining to hear that sound escape her lips again. It only took a moment before another low whimper left her mouth.
I was instantly flooded with desire. Unexpected desire, strong and all-encompassing. The reaction traveled down my body signaling, with no room for doubt, the true nature of my cravings. Horrified and shamed, I forced myself to retreat though the apartment. It was one thing to prey on sustenance, it was another to spy on a woman and yearn for her body. Aware of the difference, I left Amelia, the object of my ultimate desire, to her unsettling dreams and prayed we would cross paths again.
~*~
The last time I called a family meeting, I moved out of the house.
Now I required the coven’s help.
In both situations they came willingly, each person taking their particular seat, until the large table was full. Together we formed a formidable group. Five men, two women and centuries of experience.
“Thank you for coming together on such late notice,” I said, greeting each member of my family. Miles sat at the end of the table, flanked by Ryan and Sebastian. Brothers, twins actually, that came to live with us in the mid-1930s at the age of sixteen. Italian by decent, the boys had matching dark curly hair. Ryan was strong, built like a giant and immensely powerful. Sebastian was smaller in physique, but had an identical face—other than the massive scarred gash that ran from the space between his eyes, down the left side of his cheek, all the way to his jaw. Similar, grotesque scars marked his chest and lower body as well.
Elijah sat at the opposite end of the table from Miles, laptop open, and Olivia sat by his side, making no effort to hide the concerned frown on her face. Genevieve settled directly across the table from me, placing her glass on the table. To the casual observer the liquid looked like red wine. Of course, it was blood. Human blood. She’d agreed to stop killing humans when she joined our coven but animal blood was out of the question.
“Genevieve,” I said, in greeting. “How are things with the Council?”
Genevieve and Miles met at the Council two hundred years ago. They both maintained positions of authority although she took a brief sabbatical to work as my assistant over the last two years. I hadn’t been happy about her taking the position as we’d had friction in the past, but Miles insisted. After hearing her forewarnings to Ms. Chase about my behavior, I suspected she was more than happy to return to her original job.
“Just catching up on what I’ve missed over the last couple of years.”
I nodded. “I’m sure that won’t take long.”
Although Miles was the “oldest” in the coven and brought us all together, in our home we collaborated as equals. His long-standing position with the Council made it easier for us to operate as an approved coven. He sat at the end of the table, bald head reflecting the dimmed overhead lights.
“Grant would like to talk to us about the murders taking place near Asheville,” he said. “Things have escalated.”
“As Olivia may have informed you, last night the Predator, who I learned is named Caleb, sent one of his companions to kidnap my assistant while she was out socializing with friends.”
Sebastian and Ryan glanced at one another—obviously they had not been informed.
“In a public location?” Sebastian asked.
“Yes.”
A small crease appeared on Ryan’s forehead. “Did you intervene?”
“With Olivia’s help, I managed to get there in time. Other than a few superficial injuries Ms. Chase seems fine,” I said. “The assailant, Sasha, made a variety of threats but it was clear killing Ms. Chase was not the intention.”
“Then why kidnap her?” Genevieve asked. “Did he want to use her as a hostage?”
“No, not exactly,” I replied.
“He wanted to change her,” Olivia interjected.
“As a companion?” Sebastian asked.
“Unlikely,” Miles said. “From this, and other information Grant has gathered, it seems like he’s building his own coven.”
Elijah shook his head. “It’s not a coven as much a gang. Loosely formed based on one strong leader and a couple of lieutenants. I’ve also developed another theory; that the majority of the gang is made up of fledglings.”
“Fledglings?” Sebastian asked. His eyebrows furrowed together. With the scar he looked downright terrifying. “Why would you want to wrangle a bunch of feral vampires?”
“They’re expendable,” Elijah said. “And scary as hell. They’re hard to fight off even for an experienced fighter like one of us. Difficult to manage, but if trained appropriately they can ultimately be an effective weapon.”
“You think Caleb wanted Ms. Chase as one of his fledglings?” Miles asked.
“I have no idea what his true intentions are, but Sasha made it perfectly clear they would not be leaving the area any time soon and were looking forward to an altercation of some kind. She also made it clear that Ms. Chase is under continued threat.”
“Why didn’t you end her right then, Grant?” Ryan asked, fist clenched.
“I wanted a warning to go back to Caleb. I’ve given him one opportunity to leave this territory, if he doesn’t take it then I have to go forward with a full assault. I felt like this would go over better with the Council if they became involved.” Miles nodded in approval.
“And that’s what you wanted to meet with us about?” Genevieve asked, always the bureaucrat. I can see why some would consider us a good match. Neither of us had much time for lengthy discussion.
“I need to know if everyone is willing and prepared to help me with this battle.” The group nodded and murmured their support. I sighed and added, “I also need to know you will help me protect Ms. Chase at all costs.”
“The girl,” Sebastian asked, as though he’d missed something.
“Yes,” I said, refusing to make eye contact with Elijah. “Although she no longer works for me, I feel responsible for her involvement. Sasha made it undeniably clear their interest in her is because of me.”
“You fired her?” Genevieve asked, leaning forward. “Grant, she was perfect!”
“Not exactly.”
“She quit,” Olivia chimed in.
“Olivia,” I warned.
“What did you do?” Ryan asked. Miles simply looked intrigued. Sebastian shook his head like he knew it was inevitable. Was it not? Were my behaviors truly that predictable?
“It wasn’t a good match,” I lied. “And that’s not the point. Are you willing to help me protect her? I have requested she come back to the Foundation—just to be safe, but it’s doubtful she will accept my offer.”
Sebastian narrowed his eyes and asked, again, “Seriously, what did you do?”
“Grant, we will assist you in any way you need. Protecting humans has always been a priority. That isn’t going to change now,” Miles declared. “I have to ask, did she recognize Sasha as a vampire?”
“No. She was too scared and confused.”
“Did you compel her memory? Wipe it, per protocol?” he pressed.
I looked down at my hands. “She is difficult to influence.”
“No way,” Sebastian said, glancing at his brother.
“Wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Olivia whispered so low only I heard.
“I had no idea,” Genevieve said, holding back a snort of laughter. “No wonder she wasn’t a good fit, you can’t pull her strings like a puppet.”
“Genevieve,” Miles said, before returning to me. “Please notify me if she becomes aware of our nature. If she’s truly immune to your gifts then we’ll need to be prepared to take alternate measures. Be careful, Grant. Keep your distance from the girl. The situation with Caleb is already too public. We do not need any other issues.”
“Not a problem.”
Elijah coughed at the end of the table. This wouldn’t be an issue except, typically, vampires do not cough. It was time to wrap it up before more of my inadequacies were revealed. “Thank you for your support. I know together we can stop this bastard.” I looked around the room at the family I knew so well. “Anyone want to go for a hunt? I’ve got a little pent-up energy I’d like to release.”
“Hell yes!” Sebastian cried, glancing at Ryan. The boys leapt up and ran to grab their gear.
“I’m in,” Elijah said.
“Miles?” I asked. It really had been too long.
He smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 23
Amelia
"You look terrible," Drew informed me as I felt the bed give under his weight.
I had my head back on the pillow and my eyes closed tight. Groaning, I pulled the blanket over my face and snuggled into the bed further. Maybe, I rationalized, if I stayed in bed it could all be a nightmare. Drew picked up my hand. I could feel his fingertips gently touch the swelling on my wrist. It definitely wasn't a nightmare.
"What happened?" he asked. "Holy shit, Mel, are you okay?"
I pulled the blanket off my face and looking into his worried eyes I felt my own start to burn. I sat up, leaning back into the headboard. I wiped my eyes and nose with the hem of my shirt. "I'm okay. Really I am. I don't really know what happened. It was all so strange."
Drew and I sat on the bed for over an hour as I told him about my encounter the night before. His eyes were big as saucers the entire time and I got to the point where I convinced myself that I must be exaggerating.
"Do you think she was high?" Drew asked. “Maybe she was off her meds.”
"That’s what I thought, too! But I don't know. I mean, who says that kind of stuff?” I kicked off the blanket to reveal my scraped knee. “I fell when she was chasing me, and then I have these." I pulled the neck of my shirt to show the finger shaped bruises and small scrapes from Sasha's nails.
“Woah. Do you want to go to the doctor? Those look pretty nasty.”
“No. I’d rather just forget it ever happened.” I went on to explain the part where Grant Palmer showed up and saved the day.
“I saw him last night,” he said. “He was looking for you.”
"Well, he found me, although I’ll never understand how. One minute I was at the mercy of a deranged woman and the next, my boss, well, my ex-boss, was saving me." I snorted at the irony.
We both sat quietly for a moment until Drew cleared his throat. "So he just swooped in like some kind of Superman and saved you. Don’t tell Thomas you have your very own superhero, he’d nerdgasm all over the place."
I grunted. "Yeah, if Superman had OCD and was a pain in my ass."
We looked at each other for a moment and burst into laughter, collapsing back on the bed. Drew sat up, shoulders heaving, and said, "I wonder if Superman had separate tiny drawers like how Mr. Palmer separates his socks."
I had described to Drew how Mr. Palmer had a whole dresser full of socks. There were athletic socks, and dress socks. Thick wool socks for hiking or backpacking. Colorful stripes, argyles and plaids. Each style had its own tiny sock-sized drawer in his dressing room.
I rolled my eyes and said between giggles, "Drew, Superman wears tights, not socks. I guess Clark Kent wears socks though to the Daily Planet. I'm not sure, but I suspect Clark Kent is a little OCD. He seems kind of uptight."
Drew nodded, "I don't know if Superman is a good fit, though
. I'm thinking he is a little more like The Boy Wonder. You should have seen his face when I yelled at him last night!"
I sat up straight. "Drew, you didn't."
He smiled smugly. "I did and I don't care. He had it coming. Of course I had to force myself to look away from his gorgeous eyes. You're right. He is better looking in person." His eyes glazed over for a moment. I couldn't blame him. He had the exact same effect on me. "He apologized, right? And offered you your job back? Are you going to take it?"
I shoved the pillow under my chin, using it to prop my body up while I sat cross-legged and thought about his barrage of questions. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go back and work for Mr. Palmer. He was such a pig before, but at the same time there were some nice moments where I felt like I saw the kind person who came to my rescue last night. He had promised to behave better and didn't I owe him the opportunity to prove it?
I glanced sideways to the Rolling Stones T-shirt hanging over the edge of my hamper. It probably wouldn't hurt my reputation to go back and prove myself as well. Part of me felt a sense of gratitude for last night. How do you turn away from the man who saved you from a psychopath? I wasn't sure I could. And even though I was putting on a brave face for Drew, I was scared of Sasha and her threats, and Mr. Palmer made me feel safe.
I sighed and said, "I have to think about it, but I may. I feel the need to do this the right way. If I have to leave again it will be on better terms."
He nodded and stood. "Let's go get some lunch. I need a major dose of carbs after all those drinks last night. Plus, I have to tell you all about my night with Jess and then tell you about the silly girl Thomas left with!”
“He left with another girl?” I couldn’t decide if I was offended or not.
“To be fair, you left with another guy.”
I got off the bed and straightened up the blankets and pillows. I put my dirty laundry away, shoving it on top of the ruined shirt, and began gathering my things for the shower. I heard a tap on my door and Drew cracked it open with a thoughtful expression on his face.