by Unknown
“Are you well, my love?”
“I’m fine, Jacques.”
He stared into her stormy eyes and knew that she was lying to him.
It was a first.
He could feel the pain radiating off of her and wasn’t sure if it was because of what she had to do, or if it was because the detective’s words had stung. Since his mate was hurting, he let the lie go.
“Do you want me to wash your back?” he asked, feeling the temperature of the water with his hand. Apparently, she was trying to boil herself alive.
“No, I think I’d like to be alone.”
His eyebrow went up as she stood in the tub.
“I think I’ll go and read.”
Okay, this was a travesty in the making. Jolie was hurting, and the detective was sulking. Jacques knew what he needed to do. It was time to make a little visit to the man who made this mess.
At the detective’s room, he didn't knock. Instead, he scanned and found the man in the shower. As he made his way in there, he stood not far from Flynn with his arms crossed.
It eased his anger a little that he was suffering too. He would fix both of them with one attempt.
Brogan turned off the water and leaned his forehead against the tiles. It was hard to not be miserable. When he was connected to the vampyres, he could feel some peace, and now he believed himself to be on the outside looking in.
When Flynn reached for the towel, he saw motion from the corner of his eyes and nearly jumped out of his skin. There stood Jacques, leaning against the wall.
“Detective.”
“Jacques.” He stared at the towels. “You do realize that I’m naked, and any conversation we have really isn’t fair. Do you think I can at least get a towel?”
Jacques tossed him one.
“You need to fix what you broke.”
“Excuse me?”
“Jolie is in the library alone. She never does that. You wounded her heart, and you need to fix it,” he stated, staring into Brogan’s eyes. “She needs you to patch this up, not me. This is beyond my ability.”
“Okay,” he said, wrapping the towel around his waist. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, if it’s any consolation.”
“I know, Detective, or I would have ripped your heart out when it occurred.”
Jacques headed out to the bedroom, giving the man time to get dressed. As he stared around his old quarters, his attention was drawn to the fireplace. Gone was the old painting and in its place was a new one.
It was Van Gogh’s sunflower portrait.
Jacques smiled, knowing that Jolie had it brought in there. If his lecture hadn’t been enough, this certainly would be.
As Brogan approached, he noticed the painting right away. “That wasn’t there before.”
“Did you tell her you liked it?”
“It’s one of my favorites,” he replied, “I think she heard me tell my partner.” It confused the hell out of him. “Why?”
“Jolie likes everyone she cares for to be happy. She most likely wanted to brighten your day, and the idea that you would see it every morning when you woke up, made her happy.”
“Well shit.”
“I’m not sure, Detective, but that doesn’t sound like a soulless killer to me.” With that, Jacques walked back to their quarters and headed in to take a shower himself.
His job was done.
∞ ∞ ∞
Jolie sat in the library in front of the fireplace, watching the flames burn. It wasn’t about the heat. It was about the fiery solace. This room used to be her favorite place to hide, before Jacques became her mate. She felt bad for leaving him alone, but something was missing inside her.
Closing her eyes, Jolie curled up on the couch and pulled a chenille throw across her body. She had fought it as long as she could, but now the floodgates opened. Jolie wept for the woman she had to hurt tonight and cried for the soul that she was born without.
Saying that life was unfair was an understatement.
He watched her from the doorway, and his heart broke. He had used his new skills of moving silently to sneak up on her. As he remained quietly watching, it hurt him that he was the cause of all her tears. Why had he not seen the truth before he had thought such horrible things?
Jolie wasn’t soulless.
She was beauty and brilliance.
Walking into the room, he knelt in front of her, afraid to be rebuked if he tried to touch her. As soon as she sensed him, her entire demeanor changed.
“What do you want, Detective?” she asked, sitting up and moving away from him. Right then, Jolie didn't think him touching her or looking at her was a good idea.
“I want to make you stop hurting, but I need you tell me how I can make it better.”
“Don’t concern yourself with my pain, Detective. I’ll be fine. You’re not the first to think that my kind are nothing but killers, and you were right. I am a soulless monster.”
Her words slashed wickedly at his heart. “Jolie, I’m so sorry. I had a lot to adjust to today. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You’re not any of the things you saw in my head.”
Jolie stared at him and opened her mind. She showed him all the people she had to kill, all the bodies that she had stepped over, and how ugly her past had been at moments.
Patiently, he just sat there taking in the barrage of angry memories.
“I’m everything that you called me, and so much more, Detective Brogan.”
“So?”
She looked at him incredulously, like the man had lost his mind. “After all that truth, you can only say ‘so’?”
“You think that I haven’t killed people?” He opened his mind and tried to do the same thing that she had done. The pictures moved slower, but she saw the killers he stalked, and the victims whose blood he knelt in daily.
“The point is, Jolie, that you’re not cruel, and you’re not soulless anymore.”
“I hated having to hurt that girl, Flynn,” she whispered, using his name again. “She was so young and ripping into her mind was horrible. It was as if I was taking every secret in her life and throwing it out for everyone to see. She was guilty, but I still hate what I had to do,” Jolie admitted, as the tears started again.
Brogan got up off the floor and sat on one side of the couch. “Jolie, you’re a lot of things, but horrible isn’t one of them,” he reassured, and then paused. “Why did you put that Van Gogh in my room?”
“You said you liked the sunflower series.”
“Yeah, and? Why did you do it?”
“I wanted you to enjoy it, and it made you happy,” she admitted, sniffling.
Brogan sat with his eyes closed and was amazed at his fortune. “When I was little, my mom used to collect these pretty pictures. She would cut them out of art books and put them in frames for our house. My dad bought her a Van Gogh art book one year for Christmas, and she loved the sunflowers. She hung the pictures in our living room, and then planted them every year outside our home. The painting reminds me of my mom.”
“I knew it made you happy. To me, it’s just another Van Gogh, but to you it had meaning. I figured it belonged to you, and I was only holding onto it until you came along.”
“Many people would suspect it made me happy, but how many of them would go out of their way to put the original over my fireplace?”
She just stared at him.
“How many, Jolie?”
“I get your point, Flynn, except I’m heartless. You have to be in order to survive as a killer.” The tears started rolling down her face even harder.
“You’re not heartless either, Jolie. He’s sitting up in your room waiting for you. Jacques is your heart. He will always love you unconditionally. I was thinking, as I stood in the shower, that I would very much like the opportunity to be your soul, if you’ll let me.”
She didn't have words. In eight hundred years, no one had caught her off guard more than he just did. He was freely and knowingly giving himself to her, just as Jacqu
es had done.
Could she be that fortunate?
To have them both?
“Excuse me?”
“I watch how you are with Jacques, and you’re far from heartless. If you feel that you’re truly soulless, let me fill that role for both of you,” he offered, holding out his hand.
Jolie took it.
“I’m part of your lives now, so let me be a big part.” Flynn wasn’t sure what to expect, but he definitely didn’t expect her to burst into tears. “Oh shit,” he muttered, sending out a call to Jacques.
“I need you!”
He pulled Jolie into his arms and started rocking her, like he would a small child. “It’s okay, baby. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you. Please stop crying.”
Jacques walked into the room and saw Jolie curled up in Brogan’s arms. He thought the first emotion he would feel would be jealousy, but instead it wasn’t. There was warmth at seeing Jolie being protected.
“Mon amour, you need to stop crying,” he said, sitting beside the detective. “Bébé, it’ll be fine.”
Glancing over at the man, he looked scared out of his mind. Jacques lifted Jolie from his lap and crooned into her ear.
Jolie curled into Jacques’s warmth.
“My love, we are very lucky.”
“Yes bébé, we truly are.”
“Flynn told me that you’re my heart,” she said through her tears.
“Yes, mon amour, forever,” he said, placing kisses on her forehead and hair. He stroked her like a wounded child and wondered how he existed without her before this moment.
“Flynn has offered to be our soul.”
Jacques glanced over at Brogan, knowing that the man did a good job of healing Jolie’s heart.
Mission accomplished for the human detective.
“That was very kind of Flynn. He truly is our soul now, isn’t he?”
“He is.”
Brogan placed his hand on her back and gently stroked it in comfort. “I meant what I said,” he reiterated his feelings.
Jolie turned and moved back into his lap. “Thank you, Flynn,” she said softly.
Before he knew what was happening, her lips were pressed firmly to his. It wasn’t a sexual frenzy, but a loving meeting of mouths.
It was cathartic.
“Thank you for healing her heart,” said Jacques, standing and holding out his hand. “Let’s go to death, Jolie,” he offered, as he waited for their kiss to end.
Jolie stared into the icy blue, cop eyes and smiled warmly. Yes, the day she saw him, Jolie knew that he was a good, kind man.
Today was her proof.
She lightly ran her hand across his cheek as she stood. “Good night, Flynn,” she whispered, as she left with her mate.
Brogan watched the two of them go and suddenly he felt lonely. How did he become such a part of their lives so quickly?
Was it because he was bonded?
He shook his head as he moved toward his room. It was late, and he needed to get some rest. A slow ache was starting behind his eyes, but it was nothing six hours of sleep wouldn’t cure.
Maybe.
∞ ∞ ∞
Saturday Afternoon
Jolie could feel death clawing at her as its control slipped from her body. She could hear it screaming to her to stay and be at peace, but she could also hear Jacques beckoning to her with sweet words. Jolie pushed past the haze and broke through the surface, like a drowning swimmer sucking in her first lifesaving breath.
“Mon amour, bonjour,” he said, looking down at her face from his inclined position on the bed.
“What time is it?”
“It’s around midafternoon. I figured that you would want to get a jump on the day.”
“I do. I want to go back to the club this evening and see if we can observe anything that’s going on. I have a big fish to lure to my hook.”
He kissed her lips. “I assume that you’re referring to the next piece of the puzzle.”
“I’m talking about that enculé that tried to kill us.”
“And which bastard would that be? Sergei?” he asked, admiring her beautiful eyes that had hazed briefly with anger and hostility.
He loved when she was all afire.
“Yes, it was in Medea’s mind. She knew that Sergei had called out the dogs on us. This is all because of him and his stupid vendetta. I’ll rip his heart out myself,” she promised, glancing over at the bedroom door as it opened.
“Hey, what’s all the anger for?” asked Brogan, coming in to sit at the foot of their bed. Immediately, his hand sought contact with her ankle.
“We were discussing the next piece of the puzzle. It seems, that our old adversary, Sergei, sent the killers for us,” said Jacques, watching the ease in which the man was adjusting to the entire situation. It pleased him to see Flynn become more like family and less like a house guest.
It would make their long future together much better if he lost his inhibitions and fear.
Brogan whistled. “So, are we going there to question him about what’s going on?” he asked, watching a very naked Jolie slide out of bed and head to the closet. He noticed that Jacques had done the same thing.
Men were, after all, men, and Jolie was quite the sight.
Jolie spoke from the closet, “Actually, we are going there before the club opens when it’s not quite dark. I want to catch him when he’s still weak. Well, him and his guardians, that is.”
She walked out dressed to kill.
Literally.
She was laced up in black leather pants and a black leather vest that hugged her body tightly. Strapped to both her calves were sheaths that she was busy sliding silver daggers into. “I say we return the courtesy and stop in to say hello.”
“I have a question,” asked Brogan. “Actually, I have a couple of questions. The first is, can you actually breathe in that vest?”
Jolie laughed, winking salaciously at him.
Jacques also snickered as he headed into the closet to get into his own clothing.
“The other is, exactly how much leather do the two of you own?” asked Brogan, still lounging on the bed. “Is it mandatory with vampyres? Do I need to get some of my own?”
Jacques walked out of the closet buttoning a black silk shirt over his snug fitting pants. “Mon ami, it’s natural and comfortable. We already ordered you clothing. I believe it’s hanging in your closet.”
“Great, I’ll go get changed.”
“You’re not coming,” said Jolie from where she stood. She was sliding on her leather boots to cover her daggers.
“Hell yes I am,” he replied, getting angry.
“No, you’re not. We’re going into a closed club filled with possible killers. You’re a cop, and can’t be breaking the law. Plus,” she began, “I plan on killing him.” She watched his face closely for some sort of reaction.
“It’s not a matter of needing to be there, it’s a matter of it’s my job to be there. I’m the only one who should be questioning anyone, legally,” he emphasized the last word.
“Flynn, there will be no ‘legal’ interrogation.”
“I can live with that.”
“No, you’re not joining us.”
“Bullshit. I’ll go by myself then. How much trouble can I get into alone?” he asked, walking toward the door. “See you there,” he added, waiting to see if she would call his bluff.
“Damn it! Wait!” called Jolie. “Fine, but you stay by Jacques and don’t leave his side,” she said, irritated at the prospect of giving in to him.
Brogan smiled, triumphantly. “I thought you would see it my way,” he said, winking at Jacques.
The vampyre allowed the corners of his lips to curl up in entertainment. What just happened was a testament to the affection that Jolie had for the human. No one spoke to her like that with the exception of him.
“I saw that smile,” she accused.
“What smile, my love?” he asked, kissing her fingers.
Jacques called for Chloe and Mina to meet them in Brogan’s quarters.
If this was any indication, the next few centuries were going to be very interesting.
Brogan was exiting his closet with the leather boots and pants in his hand, when he saw Jolie and Jacques sitting on his couch. They were feeding from Chloe and Mina.
The energy in the room pulsed around him, and he could feel the hunger rising up in him. When Jolie broke away from Chloe, she shifted her gaze to him and his heart began to race.
“Hungry?”
He only nodded. As Flynn approached, he dropped everything in his hands to get to Jolie’s side.
It was all that mattered in that moment.
Jolie slid closer to Jacques, making more room on the couch for Flynn.
When he sat, he waited for her to climb into his lap and straddle it, but instead, she surprised him. Reaching out, she pulled him to the front of her body, and then leaned back into Jacques.
They created one big sandwich of bodies, her pressed between them.
He couldn’t think.
And just as her lips hovered lightly over his, Flynn could feel the energy seeping into him. It was hard to concentrate, but he did allow his hands to slide over the cooler leather covering her body. In the back of his mind, he hoped that Jacques wouldn’t snap and lose his mind.
The more energy she sent, the more he craved. When her hands slid up into his hair, a gasp escaped his lips. Slowly, Jolie released him.
“Okay, that really never does get old,” said Brogan, shaking his head as he tried to focus.
“I agree,” stated Jacques.
Brogan knew he needed to get dressed, or they would be late. “Now, I have a question.”
“Yes?”
For the first time since meeting him, the man looked embarrassed. This had to be something big.
“What do you wear under these pants? You can’t wear boxers. I already tried and they bunched up like hell.”
Jacques just raised an eyebrow.
“Oh,” he said. “Ohhhhh. Remind me not to get my pants mixed up with yours.”
Jolie burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it. Flynn had a way of lightening the mood around all of them. The look on his face was priceless. She would remember it for all eternity.