Jaxon (Blood Angel Chronicles Book 1)

by Jennifer Field

  Zach hears the entire exchange and is already walking towards my office door by the time I disconnect the call.

  “Well, well… it looks like we’re going to The Black Door.” He gives me a mischievous eyebrow raise a few times. “I can use a little fun, and frankly, so can you. You’re getting old.”

  “I am old, and so are you,” I say as I get up and follow him.

  He looks down at his torn jeans, black boots, t-shirt, chains, rings, and leather jacket ensemble. “Yeah, but I make old look good.”

  By the time we make it to the lobby, a car is already waiting to take us to the club. The drive is only a few minutes, but it is long enough that my mind is all over the place about what could be happening to Maitlin.

  The Lenox and Rise are both discreet sanctuaries for all species—human, demon, shifter—but Black Door is an open invitation to be propositioned for blood, sex… anything. Exclusive or not, the club is a dangerous place, and no place I want Maitlin.

  As always, there is a long line waiting outside the entrance. The moment the black SUV pulls up and Zach steps out, the crowd screams and yells his name at the sight of him. Fucking rock star. He pauses to sign some autographs as I walk straight past the bouncers and into the dimly lit club. The heady scent of sex and blood pierces my senses the moment I enter.

  It doesn’t take me more than a few minutes to locate Maitlin. She’s the center of attention on the dance floor. I watch her for a moment as she gyrates her hips to the music and runs her fingers through her hair before raising them above her head.

  Knowing that Maitlin would only be allowed into Black Door with Shellie, I glance around the dance floor looking for her friend, who is nowhere in the vicinity. Anger at the young woman’s carelessness surges through me, and it’s only Zach's hand on my shoulder that draws me back.

  “Go find Shellie. I’ll go grab Maitlin,” I growl out my orders, not bothering to turn back as I head towards the dance floor with one purpose.

  The crowd tonight is made up mostly of young vampires, meaning most are less than a hundred years old — infants, compared to myself and the original seven. The moment their eyes land on me, they part like the Red Sea, allowing me a straight path to Maitlin.

  The one young and stupid male who has his body pressed up against her back flashes me his fangs, as if he’s staking his claim on her. I don’t need to show him mine. The moment his little head stops thinking for the big one, recognition of who I am settles in and he steps back away from her, lowering his gaze to the floor as a show of respect.

  Maitlin has seemingly been enjoying the company of the young male vampire. As soon as his body leaves hers, she turns, presumably to see where he went. The lust in her eyes, followed by her needy scent, confirms she was enjoying his attention. It angers me more than I care to admit. Is she deliberately trying to drive every male in this bar crazy, or is it just me?

  The moment her eyes focus on me, the lust that was momentarily there for another man is replaced with anger—aimed directly at me. I tower over her, even in her mile-high heels. But unlike the rest of the crowd that continues to move and sway to the music, I stand my ground, arms crossed, looking down at her.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” she yells through the music.

  I lean down so that only she can hear my reply. “I should be asking you the same question.”

  She takes a step back and looks up at me with mischief in her eyes and a smirk across her plump, red lips. Lips I desperately want to kiss.

  “Well, some ass-hat called my boss and gave me the night off, so I’m here dancing. You?”

  Fuck. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Oh, I'm here tracking your every move because your ex-boyfriend is a psychopath who sent a guy to your house to kidnap you. And—funny story—I killed him by draining and drinking his blood.

  No, definitely not, so I choose to avoid her question altogether and state the obvious. “You’re drunk.”

  “That was the plan, Stan.” She’s yelling again, not that it’s necessary. I’d hear her just fine even if she whispered from across the room. As if to further emphasize my point, she spins, wobbling on her heels, knocking herself off balance. I don’t even think before my arms are around her in an attempt to keep her upright, pulling her in against my chest.

  My act of chivalry is mistaken for some poor attempt at a dance move by my drunken partner, and before I can let her go, she wraps her arms around my waist and continues to sway to the music.

  Fuck me… I’m only a man, so I do the only thing I can. I grab onto her hips and lead.

  I’m pretty sure by the way our bodies begin to move that there is no way what we’re doing would be called dancing anyplace outside a New York City night club. Her body relaxes against mine as the sensual beat of the music overtakes both of us.

  Her hands roam freely across my chest, arms, and neck, and the crowd that gave me a wide berth earlier now closes in around us, pressing our bodies together even tighter. With every intake of breath, the fresh smell of blood and sex that permeates the club fades until the only scent I can pick up is her need. I’ve lost myself in her beauty, her scent, and the way our bodies fit together so perfectly, as if she is made for me.

  Any doubt that I may have about her desire for me vanishes on the dance floor. With every gyration of her hips against mine, I lose a little bit more of the iron-clad control I have over my base, animalistic needs. The last of that control shatters when she turns her back to me, bends over and rubs that perfect ass over my painfully engorged cock.

  I can’t help but grip onto her luscious hips and pull her closer, and when I do, she raises and presses her back to my chest, allowing my arms to wrap around her waist. I don’t know what comes over me, but my lips are on her neck, laying soft kisses against her creamy flesh. And when her head tips to the side, I slide my tongue over her carotid artery, my fangs lengthening.

  I hear her soft moan through the loud music as if we were the only two people on earth, and when my name slips from her lips, I know there is no turning back, I need to have her.

  JAXON

  My mind and body are both drowning in lust, the heady scent of sex permeating the air surrounding us. My cock is so hard for the woman in my embrace that I have only one thought left. I feel the tips of my sharp fangs hit my lower lip. The ache in my gums is as intense as the ache between my legs. I’m about to sink my teeth into her neck and taste her sweetness when a hand on my shoulder pulls me back to reality.

  “What the fuck Jax.”

  Murderous rage courses through me, and I snap and hiss at Zachriel as if I’m a newly turned vampire unable to control his animalistic need. To Zach’s credit, he doesn’t let me go. He only grips my shoulders harder and stares me down.

  “Get a fucking grip, Jaxon,” he says while giving me a firm shake.

  The deep intake of breath does little to calm me, but it does take the edge off the insatiable need to claim Maitlin in the middle of a dance floor. I glance over Zach's shoulder and see Shellie standing just behind him, assessing the situation.

  The moment I see her, I redirect my anger from Zach to Shellie, and I descend on her quicker than the human eye can track.

  “What the fuck are you thinking, bringing her to a place like this?” The look she gives me is something on par with having smelled rotting fish. Her nose wrinkles up, and she dares to roll her eyes at me instead of answering my question. “Maitlin is fucking human. How did you even get her into a place like this?”

  It isn’t that humans weren’t allowed into The Black Door, they just have to be thoroughly vetted or be from the guardian class, like Kap and Shellie. Maitlin is neither of those things. The guilt and realization of the severity of her act play across Shellie's face in a myriad of emotions.

  “You lied to get her in here.” I don’t even need her to answer. The moment I say it, her gaze hits the floor. Fuck me. I drag my hands through my hair in frustration. “And how, exactly, are you going to
explain away what she sees in here?”

  “I don’t fucking know!” Shellie yells at me so loud several patrons turn our way, curiosity at our conversation getting the better of them. Most have looks of shock strewn across their faces when they realize that it me she’s yelling obscenities at. Each one waits for me to take action against anyone who dares speak to me in such a manner.

  My status and age among the vampire crowd dictate respect, something Shellie is well aware of, yet has chosen to ignore. If she were anyone else, her insolence would be cause for discipline, but out of respect for Kap, I can let her indiscretion go this time.

  Without thinking, I grab onto her arm, hard enough that I know she will bruise and turn to find Zach. This conversation needs to happen, but not here in a sea of ears. Zach, who is trying to wrangle up a very drunk Maitlin, finally makes it back over to us with her tossed over his shoulder. My barely tampered lust and the need to claim Maitlin has me wanting to throttle him into next week.

  “Calm the fuck down, Romeo. This is the only way I can get her to comply. She’s wriggling like a fucking eel.” Maitlin’s legs flail, only emphasizing Zach's point, and he wraps his arms around her bare calves, holding her legs tightly to him. “If you were listening to me earlier instead of… dancing, with this one.” He pats her thigh, and I let out a low, possessive growl. “You’d already be upstairs in the private VIP room having this conversation, not here where everyone can hear.”

  He’s right, of course. The conversation I was having with Shellie should not have happened on a crowded dance floor. Especially as I lashed out about her bringing an un-vetted human into the place.

  Even still, there is no fucking way I am going to let Zach carry my girl off the dance floor. My girl—when had she gone from the sassy bartender to my girl? Oh, yeah, that’s right. Yesterday, as I was draining that asshole outside her apartment.

  “I’ll take her.” Zach knows I’m not asking, and I am damn sure he is tired of her tiny fists punching him in the kidneys.

  “With pleasure.”

  The transfer of a flailing, angry Maitlin is less than graceful in the middle of a packed dance floor, but we manage. Her drunken rant doesn’t cease once I have her securely over my shoulder. Truthfully, it might have gotten worse.

  “Jaxon Krieger, Put. Me. Down!” Maitlin yells as she smacks my ass continuously while I walk off the dance floor towards the stairs that will lead us up to the VIP area. I let a smile spread across my face at her behavior. It doesn’t escape my notice that she isn’t kidney punching me but is playfully smacking my ass that I may have flexed on purpose to further entice her.

  “Behave.” I know she hears me because she playfully pokes my side.

  “I said, behave.” I give her firm ass a light smack, and she lets out a squeal that is more playful than angry.

  It only takes us a minute to maneuver through the club. Maitlin’s protests have all but stopped as my hand caresses her bare thigh while we walk. My only concerns are the sights that she might take in as we made our way to the VIP area. An exclusive vampire club is exactly as one would think—a no holds barred for… anything.

  Blood flows freely and willingly in places like this. It is safe for all participants involved. I just hope that Maitlin is drunk enough to dismiss what she may see, and feel, for that matter. The sexually charged atmosphere of a vampire club is no coincidence. Blood and sex often go hand in hand.

  When the four of us make it up to the VIP section that overlooks the dance floor, I toss Maitlin down on one of the plush velvet couches and head over to the private bar to get a drink. The combination of her and the tang of blood in the air has my nerves on edge.

  I order a whiskey neat and toss it back in one gulp without even bothering to savor the flavor. I motion for Shellie to join me. Our conversation regarding her actions in bringing Maitlin to Black Door is far from over.

  “Explain.”

  Shellie’s previous attitude is gone. “This is the only place I could think of where I knew we would be safe.”

  I motion for her to continue while I keep an eye on Maitlin, who is currently dancing around the room and looking out over the crowd below.

  “I know those two detectives who came to the apartment yesterday morning aren’t human. So there's more to that dead body than anyone is saying. Am I right, or has my imagination gotten the best of me?” Her earlier attitude quickly returns. “I’m going back downstairs to have some fun. Or am I a prisoner here, like Maitlin?”

  “Neither of you is a prisoner, and I just want you both safe.”

  “So then she can leave with me.” Shellie points over at spinning and swaying Maitlin, who has now taken to singing at the top of her lungs with Zach as her harmonious back-up.

  “I’ll take care of her,” I say, not even giving it a second thought.

  Shellie's family have been guardians for centuries. They are the closest thing I have to a traditional family, and because of that bond, they can always read me and understand the deeper meaning behind what I can’t bring myself to say.

  I will take care of Maitlin tonight. I will ensure her safety, but my words hold a deeper meaning, and I can feel it as they leave my lips. I will take care of her… always.

  Shellie’s hand comes to rest on my arm. “I know you will, Jaxon.” She turns to yell over at her friend, who isn’t paying attention to anyone at this point. “Mait, Jaxon is going to take you home.” All Maitlin does is give her a wave. “She’s all yours. But don’t fuck with her, she’s already been through enough.” As if to drive her point home, she has to add, “She’s like a sister to me. Understand?”

  Sometimes the slightest reminders are the most humbling. She’s like a sister to me. Words that mean a tremendous amount coming from anyone, but from a member of the guardian class, it extends my protection to Maitlin, which she will have regardless.

  Before she leaves, I watch as Shellie gives her friend a hug and kiss on the head, whispering that she loves her in her ear. I really should have pried further when she said that Maitlin had been through so much already. But I’d much rather find everything out through Maitlin, not get third-party information clouded by someone else’s perception.

  Leaning back against the bar, I sip my second whiskey and take in my surroundings. A gaggle of young and crazy women has stormed the VIP entrance where Zach has relocated and is currently holding court, signing anything from napkins to breasts and everything in between. Two blondes in particular, have piqued his interest as he invites them into our sanctuary.

  He looks over and sees my ire at his thoughtlessness and shrugs. Asshole rock star. He walks over smug and cocky, with one arm draped over each female’s shoulders.

  “The twins and I are gonna take off.”

  One of the girls, who isn’t much of a Mensa candidate, chimes in about how they aren’t twins and Zach shakes his head and smiles.

  “Can you handle your drunken bartender over there by yourself, or should I ditch these two to take a ride on the devil’s trike with you?” There's a hitch in his voice that suggests he’s only half kidding.

  “Get the fuck outta here,” I say while shaking my head. “I don’t share.”

  “Well, I have it under good authority that you have, but whatever you say, man. I’ll catch you later. I got a show tomorrow night. I’ll messenger you over some tickets.”

  He glances over at Maitlin, who is swaying to the beat of the music as she watches the patrons below. “Bring a friend.” He gives me a wink and leaves with his two playthings for the night.

  The women who were vying for Zach's attention at the suite’s entrance leave when they notice it’s just me and not the rest of his band. Being a billionaire still doesn’t trump being a rock star, which suits me just fine. I currently only have eyes for one woman, and she just turned around and smiled at me.

  I raise my glass and smile back at Maitlin. It doesn’t make any sense for me to be standing here leaning against the bar in a room meant for thir
ty people when there’s just the two of us. Grabbing a bottle of water from the bartender, I make my way over to the leather couch on the opposite side of the room. My eyes never leave hers as I take a seat, hoping she’ll come and join me.

  I don’t have to wait long before she is swaying and spinning her way over to where I’m sitting. I allow myself to smile at her playfulness, even if it is alcohol-induced. Parts of her spunky personality start to show through as the confident and sexy-as-hell woman stands in front of me.

  “Seems as if everyone has left us.” As she speaks, her voice is low and sultry. I take notice of her eyes. The color is usually so light one has to wonder if they’re real. But now, standing before me, they’ve darkened, the color eclipsed by her expanded pupils, lust filling her gaze.

  “Why did you come here tonight, Jaxon? Do you own this place too?” She presses her lips together. The movement has me hypnotized, watching as the ruby red of her lipstick glistens under the lights. Images of those lips leaving their mark around my cock have me adjusting the now prominent bulge between my legs.

  “No, but a close friend of mine does. I’m here because I need to make sure you are safe.” There is no point in lying. After all, my actions are honorable—I do want to make sure she is safe. Of course, her anger at me is most likely the reason behind her drunken escapades, but that’s water under the bridge.

  “Safe from what? You seem to be the only dangerous thing here.”

  Well, that makes me smile. “You think I’m dangerous?” She raises her eyebrow and nods her head in response. If I think that was the end of her response, I am dead wrong.

  “You’re very dangerous.” She takes a step forward, standing with one leg on either side of mine. “You’re infuriating.”

  One moment I am infuriating, and the next she’s straddling my lap, one toned thigh firmly planted on either side of mine. I place my hands securely on the leather of the couch, trying my damnedest to rein in the growing need I have for this intoxicating creature, which is not an easy task.