Most of the time.
Chapter Five
Shain sped to his coven’s headquarters: a sprawling mansion deep in the woods where members could conduct business, socialize, exercise, and of course, feed.
He’d achieved little rest since last night, still in his suit, reluctant to remove it. Every time he’d closed his eyes, the shiya was there, her thighs clenching his waist, hips grinding on him, tongue twining with his, until he woke up for a reprieve. And even then, he wouldn’t find it, thinking of her, hard for her, his mind wide awake, his teeth throbbing.
The haunting hunger of before? Still absent. For how long? Who knew, but he’d take wild, incomprehensible desire for an enemy over melancholy and unquenchable thirst any day.
Would she show up tonight?
Odds were, she wasn’t even considering it.
Would he not go because the chances were next to nil?
No. He was going.
Because he never paid attention to the odds, never cared the chances were severely not in his favor. Low percentages never stopped him.
After parking, he headed toward the hall where the offices were located.
As soon as he passed one of the cocktail lounges, two members came out, close to his heels once they heard Shain Trevyn had walked in the door. These two periodically hounded him when either had a money idea to share: Rory and Jun-Mi. They were desperate to be on his list for potential allies, but although he appreciated their ambition, they hadn’t proven to be on his level yet.
“Trevyn. Got a minute?” asked Jun-Mi.
Rory asked, “Is that a Walton Mayer suit? His waiting list is longer than the Constitution.”
“I’d give up my left arm for an appointment,” said Jun-Mi.
“Why not both arms? It’d be worth it, and you’d get a discount.”
They laughed at their own cleverness.
Little did they know, the expensive shirt under it was shredded. Striding ahead of them, Shain tugged at his cuff and drawled, “I’m going to keep walking until you say something interesting, gentlemen.”
Rory got to the point and picked up his pace. “We’re about to pull the trigger on something we think you’ll want in on. It’s worth your time.”
So they think. “What is it?”
“Get this: Viva Health is buying MediScope. It’s happening. Right now, the price is forty-one, stock’s trading at thirty-five.”
Jun-Mi added, “We’re looking at a seventeen percent boost in two to three weeks when the deal officially closes. Annualized, that’s four hundred, forty-two.”
Shain stopped walking and turned to them, one brow raised. “Really?”
The pair stopped, exchanged hell yes glances, and grinned.
“So, perhaps you’d be in two million shares?” Rory asked, rocking on his heels.
Two million wasn’t much to risk for a deal that smooth. “Count me in.” With that, he resumed to the offices.
Then Jun-Mi added, “Quinten Moore’s name is being whispered around Wall Street as the new chairman.”
Shain halted. “Moore?” He swiveled around, putting the pieces together, and noticing he’d effectively put the two friends at unease. “Who exactly said this was a done deal?”
Rory glanced at his friend. “Jun-Mi told me.”
Jun-Mi frowned. “Everyone is saying it.”
“Who’s everyone?” Shain lifted a brow.
“Just, you know, people I talk to who know these things.”
Crossing his arms with a sigh, Shain set his feet apart, grateful they’d imparted this small fact before he moved his money. “Look. Viva Health is controlled by Moore. Not only that, but he also owns 19.3% of MediScope backdoored through his stake in Vitanomic. Did you see that block trade last Tuesday that came out of Ombio?”
Rory nodded, while Jun-Mi closed his eyes.
“That was them cashing out their shorts before the merger. Obviously, they wanted that move to be missed or overlooked.” He gave them a small smile. “But you guys still caught it. Commendable for sure. But you were looking at it from the wrong end.”
Jun-Min awkwardly crossed his arms, as if to mirror Shain. “How so?”
“Viva Health’s offer was just a tactic to temporarily bolster MediScope. Nothing more. It’s a typical play, for Quinten to jump from a sinking ship. You’d know he’s crazy at his best. The block trade was the old man sliding from Ombio and getting out of MediScope.”
Rory pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damn the gods. So what do we do?”
“Moore took the story for a ride, now it’s clear he’s getting out of it, which means you need to do the same. Matter of fact, you should short. It’ll careen to thirty-two dollars and some change after word breaks.”
“Well, my day just went to shit,” muttered Rory.
“Thanks, Shain.” Jun-Mi unfolded his arms. “Can’t blame us for trying.”
“I’m proof you should never stop,” Shain encouraged, resuming his walk. “Your read on it was great with the information you had. Like rock-paper-scissors, my knowledge just trumped yours this time. You’ll catch up sooner or later.”
Not that long ago, he was Rory and Jun-Mi, tracking down the first-class members of the covenant to offer ideas to make them all richer. Horowitz, Johnson, Capris, Vaulk… One by one, he got all of them.
Because of his status—and the use of his infamous negotiation skills—he was awarded the best office in the mansion. It wasn’t the largest, but it had its own bathroom and the best view. Black lacquered walls and carpet, antique furniture and drapes, lined with gold trimmings, it enveloped its guests in luxurious darkness and spoke unreservedly of the man who sat behind the desk.
While he waited for word about Tanaka’s arrival, Shain logged into his computer and went over his portfolio, checking on his multiple accounts, a cache of emails, and tearing through the mailed correspondence delivered from his assistant, Brooks. One included a document he needed to sign, so he grabbed his fountain pen to stroke his first and last on the dotted line.
Only to find his hand shook every time he got the tip close to the paper.
Frustrated, he tried again and, to his annoyance, shook harder.
He whipped his arm out as if to bring it heel with force and placed it near the dotted line once more. Still, he trembled like a quivering leaf in a stormy summer’s night.
“Come on, damn you.” With the demanding precision of a surgeon, he scribed his name with a flourish and pushed the paper away as if it would bite him.
Though he wasn’t one to partake in drugs, he’d seen what the effects of taking them did to people, and had the shakes of a man coming down from a colossal high. But he’d consumed no chemical drug, had only tasted a woman unlike any other.
He sat back in his chair, resting an elbow on the arm and rubbing his temple, uncomfortable with how she affected him, long after she had run from his embrace.
Though she was a shiya, had she also cast some sort of spell? The circumstances that led him to her couldn’t have been manipulated, but perhaps the entire reason Kimber had been out there was to lure a vampire with some kind of siren enchantment. After all, she had been swimming like one.
He wanted an explanation for his desire, his actions, his trembling, and the frankly supernatural attraction to a shiya who was no more attractive than the plethora of women he’d met throughout his years. In fact, though her features were becoming and her eyes would haunt him every time he closed his, there were women who were more striking. Or, perhaps, he was trying to convince himself she wasn’t that special, when she was. He’d never been drawn to other women like he’d been drawn to Kimber.
Beauty did not immediately evoke blackout desire. Appreciation, yes. Admiration, sure. It was in every being’s nature to be allured by aesthetics, and no creature admired natural beauty more than a vampire, but it alone didn’t shake a man’s core.
What about her shook his core—shook his night, his rationale, his hand?
&
nbsp; The landline rang. It was Brooks. He answered, eager to shift his mind elsewhere. “Greetings.”
“Sir, I received your message. I didn’t expect you to be in your office so early.”
Neither did he. “I’m feeling restless.” And the short time in a shiya’s arms eclipsed the excitement of a thousand of Avery’s parties.
Brooks pretended to understand. “Ah. Anything I can arrange for you?” he asked, his English accent always appealing to the ear.
“Not at the moment. Any update on Tanaka?”
“Yes. His assistant has informed me that his arrival will unfortunately be delayed.”
Shain smothered an annoyed groan. He’d planned to leave the city right after Tanaka’s visit, which was supposed to take place in a few days. “How long of a delay?”
“She didn’t give an exact date, but said it’d be at least a week. Two at the minimum, four at the most, according to her.”
That would put him nearly to August before he could leave. “Four weeks is out of the question. Is it acceptable for him to meet me in Québec instead?” For the gods’ sake, the man was beyond wealthy—a heavy reason why Shain wanted him as an ally—and could afford to take a detour up north before heading back to Tokyo.
“I already asked if that would suffice and she said no.”
He frowned at the speaker. “Was there an explanation for this minor inconvenience I ask of him?”
“There was not.”
Shain shot out of his chair and opened the armoire loaded with clothing he kept on hand and reminded himself how badly he wanted Tanaka’s alliance. To secure it would be like a knight being awarded his own empire, with the support and blessing of a king. If Tanaka was on his side, he’d never have to beg, argue, or blackmail anyone else ever again. It wouldn’t matter if he procured more properties or sold them all to the highest bidder. He’d be made.
A few weeks more in this heat was a small price to pay. Once Tanaka was there, he’d spend the week wining and dining him, obtain his alliance, and be off to wherever for as long as he pleased.
He took off his jacket, then the destroyed shirt, and threw the ruined article in the wastebasket and snatched another. “Tell his assistant I eagerly—no, respectfully—anticipate his arrival.” Just getting the man to agree to meet with him had taken years and a lot of impressive moves.
“Consider it done,” Brooks answered. “You have a call coming in on your private line.”
Should he even find out who it was? He shrugged on his fresh shirt and buttoned it, realizing he would have a lot of free time on his hands now. “Who is it?”
A pause. “Lady Zayn.”
Shain smirked at Amara’s nickname earned from being avowed to a nobleman once upon a time, who died a century ago. Shain hadn’t heard from her in a few weeks, and despite his odd disinterest in her sexually the last time they were in bed, he missed her companionship. “Put her through.”
“One moment.”
A click, and then a long beep. “Hala, Trevyn.”
“Amara.”
“I didn’t expect we’d be talking so soon after Avery’s party. I was told you abruptly left after your speech with no explanation, and I wanted to check in on you.”
Godsdamn, word travels lightning fast. She wasn’t even on the same continent. “I was there long enough.”
She sighed. “I was hoping it would lift your spirits. You’ve been so…distant lately, nervous about Tanaka.”
Obviously, she didn’t know him that well to say such a thing. “I’m not nervous. In fact, I can’t see my plan going any other way than the way I want it.”
She chuckled. “There’s the Shain I know.” The sound she made gave the impression she was feeing naughty, stretching out on her favorite silk sheets. “Tell me you miss me.”
Pulling out a fresh sport coat, he buttoned it. “You’ve been drinking.”
“And I’m in bed.”
“I can tell.”
She giggled. “You can?”
“Your tone has a certain cadence to it when you’re on the phone in bed.”
“Oh, really? Mmm. I was just thinking of the last party you and I attended. At Lourdes’s? You in your Tom Ford, me in Valentino, the most fabulous pair in the room…”
Amara’s words faded in the background as he walked to the window, that melancholy sneaking up on him again. He didn’t want to talk of parties and couture and gossip. He wanted to think of a woman he had no business thinking of. Her unguarded love of nature, the sweet way she hummed, how she arched and purred under his touch. Her advice to treat boring parties as opportunities, play pranks for amusement, dress up as a book character…
He slowly smiled. Kimber. I hope I see you tonight.
“Shain?”
He looked over his shoulder at the speaker. “Apologies. What?”
She made a loud sigh. If only she knew just where his thoughts had traveled.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join me abroad when you’re done with Tanaka?”
“I’m sure. I made promises to my allies, you know that. It’s Québec that we’re to gather this summer.”
“Fine. Perhaps I’ll cut my getaway short and join you there.”
For some reason, he didn’t care either way. “You know you’re welcome to join me.” He noticed he didn’t say it with the same relish that he used to.
“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.”
He wasn’t falling for that bait. “Enjoy your summer, Amara.”
“Oh, Trevyn. Don’t go. Talk dirty to me.”
“I have to go.”
“Now?” she exclaimed. He could picture her bolting up in bed, aghast he’d turned down phone sex, which he didn’t particularly savor as much as some men did.
He chuckled at her rancor. “Yes, now. I have to go.”
Her tone changed to pouty. “Kiss-kiss.”
After she hung up, he glowered at a pang of sour guilt, aware his off-again/on-again relationship with Amara had permanently turned off. They’d remain friends, but not lovers, and the subtraction of their sexual relationship would change the dynamic for a while. But it was time to move on. She wanted more, and he’d finally acknowledged he could only give less.
That would be a conversation for when they were face to face though, not over the phone. He was in no rush to have it, as she’d likely be upset. Men didn’t break things off with Amara; she was used to wielding the control.
Coming around the side of his desk, he stared down at the crumpled designer shirt in the black can and snatched it up, bringing it to his nose, inhaling like an addict.
The same heady need came roaring back. “Fuck.” He dropped back in his chair. It smelled so good and strong of the shiya. He squeezed a tight fist as he dropped the garment on the floor, his head buzzing, cock hard, dangerous lust coursing through him like opium.
If he’d met her before his initial success, he would’ve been too worried about getting caught. If he met her after his alliance with Tanaka, he wouldn’t dare risk his good fortune for a tryst with a shiya.
Nevertheless, she’d arrived in the in-between, and if Kimber came tonight, he’d give her the greatest seduction of her life, then walk away to a future he’d been dreaming of for so long.
Chapter Six
Coffee drifted through French doors of the den.
Her shiya sisters were awake.
Looking at the clock, Kimber determined she’d gotten less than two hours of actual sleep. Again.
It’d been almost a week, for heaven’s sake.
Had last Saturday really happened? Or had it been a dream? She kind of questioned it. She picked up the bag where she’d stuffed the romper she wore that night and hesitated to give it a quick sniff. The scent of the vampire saturated it even now.
She moaned and dropped it.
No question. Super, super real.
There was a knock on the door. “Kimber? You awake?”
She stuffed the romper back in the plastic bag, rol
ling it tight and stuffing it under the futon. “Yeah, just getting dressed.”
She threw on a shirt and a pair of shorts, then messily put up her hair.
Why was she still edgy, days after that encounter? They couldn’t read her thoughts.
When she emerged from the den, she went straight to her morning duty of putting out the fresh fruit while the others set the table, cooked the eggs, poured the coffee, and buttered the toast. She wondered why everything had to be so regimented.
Most of her packmates had never been away from their husbands, and she expected at least a couple of them to want some extra fun outside of their “duties” on this mandated trip, like seeing a concert, going out for happy hour, or visiting the Coca-Cola museum or something. While they did some shopping or saw a free play at the summer theater, they only went to areas where they could meet more shiyas. That was their sole purpose, and they had yet to venture from it.
Lucinda was the oldest and deemed the leader for the mission. Her dark hair had streaks of gray, thick and frizzy down to her waist. A natural, barefaced beauty who would be even more so without her resting bitch face and cynical attitude. She was definitely an early-to-bed, early-to-riser, stringent on the schedule, just like her mate.
Beth did whatever the others told her to. A soft-spoken blonde with a pixie cut, she had a nervous habit of toying with the ends on her neck.
Then there was Abigail, a generously curvy brunette with glasses, who worked as a teacher in Tavish and was very well-liked in the pack.
Tory and Lia were best friends, one never going anywhere without the other. They finished each other’s sentences like twins, with identical fishtail braids, Tory’s blonde, Lia’s brown, the two always laughing at their inside jokes.
And finally, there was Claudine, a striking redhead with a cascade of curls she could never tame. Sweet and optimistic, she was most recently mated to a handsome doctor in the pack that she couldn’t wait to get home to. Unfortunately, he was all she wanted to talk about too.
The only unmated shiya was Kimber.
His Dark Embrace Page 4