Love is Darkness
Page 9
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Jack left the pub, his blood boiling as usual. What a spoiled brat! He walked silently through Hampstead to the Northern Line tube stop. The flight left at six am, back to America. Not soon enough. He'd done what he was supposed to do and given her the information. He'd checked on her and seen her. Val was fine. Shit, she was better than fine: she was going to slut her way through London for the next year. Maybe he'd leave that part out when he saw Nate.
He got to Heathrow at one in the morning. He checked in and sat down in a chair, his back to the wall, so that he could see everyone as they came towards the gate. Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep.
Someone in his line of work could sleep anywhere, under any circumstances. He rested his head back against the chair, crossed his arms, and sprawled his legs. He tried to think of nothing. Clear his mind and sleep but he kept seeing her in his mind. She was gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous. Not in an obvious way. She was probably considered pretty by others, but to him she was like an inferno.
Tonight, she'd worn jeans that looked like they had been painted on they were so tight. Jack remembered the flash of generous cleavage as she'd leaned over him, daring him to look at her. He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, wanting distance from the memory of her body.
Who was he kidding? He was too tired and too lonely to fight his memories tonight anyway. Thoughts of her hand on his thigh. Her breath in his ear, made him hard. More memories came to him unbidden, her straddling him, her-
Christ.
He thought of the night before she left for college. Just once, he'd wanted to give in to her. After all those years of her looking at him with adoration and lust, while he feigned ignorance.
Why was it so hard to keep her away and not want her? Just last week a vampire had attacked him outside of his home. That was not the life for Valerie. She'd been through enough and worked hard to be on her own.
In a way, maybe he was her weakness too. So he kept himself away from her. Now he saw her as little as possible. It was too painful. Especially after he'd held her, kissed her, felt her shudder in climax against him. God, he wanted her so much. But, he wanted revenge... and they both knew that he wanted revenge just a little bit more than he wanted her.
And yet, in his weaker moments and in his dreams, he'd thought of her thighs over him. Val on top of him, clasping his hands, but gripping him, pulling him up and towards her— this is not restful. He loved that hair of hers, so thick and rich. A hundred browns. Dark hair that glinted in the sun.
Her eyes drew him too. He could look into those dark eyes forever. See himself reflected in them, chocolate brown with gold flecks. When he looked into her eyes, he knew she loved him back. Or at least she had. She appeared to have no trouble moving on now. What a cluster fuck they were in.
He tried to push these thoughts away, focus on the mission in Africa but instead he dwelled on Val and Nate. The man wouldn't even try with her. He claimed that he didn't want to draw attention to her. Whenever Jack had to go see Val, Nate made sure he was somewhere on the other side of the world drawing attention to himself. Usually, pissing on Lucas's doorstep. Since half the world was his doorstep they had gotten away with it. They planned each attack thoroughly, planned with contingencies and they had succeeded and lived this long because of their caution.
The mere thought of Val trying to do what they did made his blood run cold. She wasn't calm enough or methodical enough to keep herself safe. She acted first and thought later. So why did he always taunt her, want to convince her to stay with them?
With him?
Because he was a selfish bastard and he wanted to know that he meant something to her. He needed to know that if they died someone would think of him and remember him as family or as hers.
He needed another drink. Jack didn't drink very often but he was in the airport and it was almost daylight. He was safe for today. So he'd drink and torture himself with memories of all the times he'd let her go.