Jaxon (Blood Angel Chronicles Book 1)

by Jennifer Field

  “Why are we at the Lenox? I thought you told Shellie that you were taking me home. This,” she waves her hands around the private parking garage, “is not home. Not by a long shot.”

  I tug the points of my vest, straightening my crumpled appearance, and if I am honest, stalling for an answer. Maitlin isn’t going to be ready to hear the truth, and frankly, I’m not prepared to give it to her. Not until I know what part her ex, Neil, is playing. “I told Shellie that I’ll take care of you. In light of the events outside your apartment, this is a much safer location for you.”

  Past her shoulder, I see Cole visibly cringe at my answer. I am not good at whatever is happening between Maitlin and me. Our physical chemistry is undeniable, but everything else… I need a damn manual on the modern woman to figure out.

  Cole speaks before I can dig the hole I am in any deeper. “My apologies, Miss Addams. I spoke with Shellie earlier this evening, and she informed me she will be returning here after leaving Black Door. I figured you will want to meet back up with her.”

  I watch as her demeanor visibly calms. I’ll have to remember to give Cole a bonus for saving my ass more than once this evening. I follow behind her as she enters the lift that Cole is gracious enough to hold open for us. I mouth a silent thank you as I pass him, and he gives me the customary bro head nod in response.

  The ride up is silent and awkward. The three of us stand facing forward as the elevator ascends to my private quarters at the Lenox. As we ride up, I allow my gaze to take in the beauty next to me. We are like fire and ice.

  Everything from her stance to the sexy as hell scowl strewn across her lips tells me she isn’t used to anyone protecting her. She faces whatever comes her way on her own, but I am determined to take care of her, protect her any way I can, even if she fights me every step of the way.

  When the doors to the lift finally open and our destination is revealed, her ire comes back full force. My suite is not the destination Maitlin is expecting. To her credit, she doesn’t say a word. She just exits and silently walks around the apartment.

  Like everything in my life, this space was custom built to my specifications. Maitlin walks to the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city and stands, watching the concrete jungle below. Dawn is moments away as the blue and orange sky creeps across the city. I watch her expression sadden in the reflection of the glass, and I wait.

  When she finally speaks, there is no denying the sadness in her voice. “Will you eventually tell me the truth about what’s going on?” Her eyes meet mine in the glass.

  “Yes.”

  “Does it have to do with the body outside my apartment—the man that was at Rise the other night?”

  I don’t even pause before I answer. After all, Maitlin deserves the truth. As much as I can give her, at any rate. “Yes.”

  She turns and walks towards me, slow and elegant, like a caged animal assessing her surroundings. I don’t dare move as she approaches.

  When she stands no more than a foot in front of me, I finally speak. “I can’t tell you everything now, but soon.”

  She nods and walks past me, examining her surroundings. “Is this where you live? It’s not what I expected. It’s… homey.”

  “It’s one of the places I stay. It’s only homey because of Kap.” I keep my voice low and calm as if I am speaking to a frightened animal. I hold my breath, waiting for her to attack.

  She gives me a raised eyebrow instead of leaping in for my jugular, and then a look most women give me when they start to question the connection between Kap and me. To say our relationship is complicated is an oversimplification. Kap is an extension of myself, closer than even family. One of the only people I will willingly give my life for.

  “So, she’s your…?” She lets the question linger in the air.

  I smile and let out a little chuckle. Is she jealous? I can’t explain it, but I want to keep her questioning the relationship I have with Kap. Verbally sparring with her over the past few days was invigorating, and she’s sexy as fuck when she’s mad.

  But, there will be other days to argue with her, then make up. At least, I hope there will be. So I let her off the hook. “She’s family.” I keep it simple and not exactly a lie, but I regret the words the moment they leave my lips.

  We are family, maybe not by genetics, but by blood. I backpedal a bit before Maitlin can catch the lie. “Well, I consider her family… like a sister.”

  I watch as she leans against the back of my cream-colored leather sectional sofa and crosses her arms around her tiny waist and her legs at the ankles. I can’t pull my eyes from her. What is it about this woman that has me wanting… more?

  “Well, Shellie is like my sister, so I guess we’re practically related,” she teases me, and I love it. Our banter back and forth is one of her more admirable traits. She doesn’t care who I am, how much money I’ve amassed, or what I can give her. She puts me in my place, and it gets me so fucking hot.

  I can’t help myself. My feet are moving me across the room before I can stop them. I stand in front of her, so close her that her legs are now crossed between my own.

  If my traitorous feet got me here, then my hands are going to go for an all-out mutiny over my mind as they move up her shapely hips to rest on her waist. I take a half step forward, closing any distance between our bodies. My hard frame rests against her soft, feminine curves.

  “I’ve always been into some taboo shit, so why stop now.” I lean down and cover her lips with mine. Her body stiffens at the initial contact but then relaxes into the kiss. She lets her arms snake up around my neck, pulling me in closer.

  I’ve kissed more than my fair share of women throughout my life. But the moment my lips touch hers, it’s as if I am home. I close my eyes, something I rarely do anymore while kissing a woman and savor the moment.

  Her lips that have spouted such sass toward me are now soft and inviting against mine. Her mouth opens, giving me full access to deepen our kiss. What starts slow and sensual quickly ignites into a fevered need for one another. My tongue flicks over hers, mimicking what I want to do to other more sensitive parts of her body.

  All I desire as I kiss her is to be the man of her dreams, not the monster of her nightmares. I can feel the thin fibers of my humanity slipping away. I use every ounce of willpower I have to keep the demon at bay. But when a soft moan escapes her lips, I lose it.

  The primal need to claim her and sink my fangs into her flesh, to taste her sweet blood, wins over. With strength I didn’t know I possess, I push away, turning from her as fast as I can, hiding the monster I indeed am.

  I have such little control over the darkness inside me with her. Twice in a matter of hours, I was moments away from taking her blood. Not my age or the laws protecting humanity are going to stop me from taking what I need, not where Maitlin is concerned.

  I speak to her without turning back, my voice barely recognizable through my elongated fangs, “You’re welcome to the apartment for as long as you like. I have work to attend to.”

  Without waiting for a response from her, I leave, taking the monster with me.

  MAITLIN

  “What. The. Actual. Fuck!” I scream at Jaxon as he disappears into the private elevator. There’s no way he doesn’t hear me, despite his lack of reaction. The only response I get is the silent slide of the lift’s door, leaving me worked up and alone. “Asshole!” I yell for good measure.

  I spy my clutch sitting on the marble countertop across the room. The big guy who drove us here must have grabbed it. He lied to me about Shellie being here. Although, to his credit, I wasn’t budging from the parking garage. I’ve got to give him props for his quick thinking under fire.

  I take a moment to survey my surroundings. To say this place is opulent is an understatement. Kap should turn in her corporate status for career as an interior designer. This place that Jaxon so nonchalantly stated is one of the places he stays is precisely what you would expect from someone when mo
ney is no object.

  “Who has ivory leather?” I scoff as I run my hand over the sofa’s buttery softness. Okay, so maybe it’s bitter beans because, let's face it, I love ivory furniture, but I also like to snack on the couch so … priorities.

  I grab my bag from the counter and dig out my cell to give Shell a quick text. I might have also taken a few pictures of the kitchen that would bring Gordon Ramsey to his knees.

  Me: Hey didn’t want you to worry I’m

  My fingers hover over the screen. I’m at a complete loss as to what to say to her. On the one hand, she is my best friend who has more than proven she will be there for me, no matter what. But then there is the flat-out warning she gave me about interacting with Jaxon. And Leif’s advice, for that matter.

  I decide that an evasive answer might be the best for this particular instance.

  fine.

  Her response is instantaneous.

  Shellie: Are you still with Jaxon?

  Well, there’s nothing like being direct. Also, my memory of the night before is a bit fuzzy, but I do vaguely remember Shellie telling me that Jaxon was going to take care of me. Or take me home. Something along those lines.

  No need to lie in answering her question. After all, she’s been privy to my secrets for years.

  Me: No

  I watch the little dots jump, then stop, then jump again.

  Shellie: What do you mean no? Where is he? Where are you? What has he done to you? I’m so sorry, and I thought he was going to take you home. I’m going to kill him.

  What has he done to me? Sadly, nothing or rather, not enough.

  Me: I’m at the Lenox. He had work to do so he left.

  I’m not about to go into detail via text message about how he kissed me and had me about to beg him to do more. Then he practically left skid marks on the polished marble floor trying to get away.

  I quickly type out something to change the subject.

  Me: I’ll be home in a bit. Lunch later?

  Shellie: Thai?

  Me: OMG, Yes! Senn?

  Shellie: You bet. I’ll meet you there at noon.

  The overstated clock on the accent wall across the room tells me what my body already knows. I’m exhausted, and at seven in the morning, it’s no wonder. I’m feeling more than slightly hungover from drinking the night before, and I’m in desperate need of sleep.

  But, I don’t want to pass up what might be the only opportunity to get some answers about just who Jaxon is. Because I know he’s not some outdated raver looking for a good time, and he’s more than a billionaire playboy.

  There’s no reason to be cautious as I make my way through the apartment. He left, and I don’t think he’s going to return while I’m here.

  “Who are you, Jaxon?” I say as I walk past a wall with swords mounted from top to bottom, each more intricate than the last. Each both deadly and beautiful at the same time.

  I said the apartment looked homey, and at first glance, through anger-filled eyes, it did. But now as I walk through, searching for a personal artifact of Jaxon’s anywhere, there's nothing. No photos, no personal nick-knacks, not even a refrigerator magnet from a trip he took. Just a beautifully furnished space with no heart, not unlike the man himself.

  I have to wonder as I open door after door if he stays here at all, as he claimed. Each room, while beautifully decorated, seems dead, as if no one has occupied them, ever. Maybe this is just a place he takes women, like the beautiful vixen with the sharp tongue from the other night.

  Has she been on her knees in front of him while he sits relaxed on the buttery soft couch that he pressed me up against not a half-hour ago?

  Why do I even care? What is it with this sexy as hell, mysterious man who has my head spinning in circles? I continue through the space, looking for some sign of life. When I open the last door down the hall, I know this is where he stays. Unlike the rest of the apartment, it looks lived in, or at very least like someone has stayed here in the last year.

  It’s a corner bedroom, bigger than my first apartment. The floor-to-ceiling windows meet in the wall junction, giving an almost panoramic view of the city. The placement of the enormous bed is what gets my attention. It faces the corner so that you can lay and watch the day pass by without a care.

  I can’t imagine waking up to this view every morning or watching the city lights at night. I take a seat at the end of the bed and kick off my heels, the soft area rug beneath my feet feeling like heaven. My feet are thankful for the reprieve, and I soon find myself hurrying back onto the plushness of the sky blue duvet, my eyelids drooping, begging for sleep.

  I don’t know if this is what Jaxon meant by “make yourself at home,” but I’m going to go with it and take a quick cat-nap, Goldilocks style, on this perfect bed before doing my walk of shame in last night's LBD.

  I stretch out with my arms and legs, reaching as far as I can in the oversized bed that was most likely custom made for a giant or NBA player. I wiggle my fingers and toes, and they don't even come close to the edges.

  I set the alarm on my phone, so I don’t oversleep, and still have enough time to make it home to change before lunch. I decide to take the tight-fitting dress off and lay it at the end of the bed. It is Shellie's, after all. I tear the duvet back and snuggle between the million thread-count sheets in just my bra and panties.

  Absolute heaven.

  *~*~*

  The beeping of my alarm breaks me from my peaceful slumber. I stretch, not wanting this luxurious comfort to end. My first breathe in, and I can smell Jaxon’s masculine scent—woodsy, and clean. I didn’t notice it before, but now I feel like I'm surrounded by it. When my hand reaches for my phone, it lands on a warm spot next to it. Warm, as if someone was sitting there.

  I sit up, looking around the room. “Jaxon,” I call out, but there is no answer. I take a moment to get my head on straight. There is no way Jaxon could have been sitting here watching me and then silently disappear.

  I scoot to the edge of the mattress, letting my hand trace the warm section of bedding. “I'm just acting silly.”

  I look to the end of the bed where I had laid my dress before my nap, but it is empty. I’m out of bed and on my knees, looking under it for the dress that I must have kicked off while I moved in my sleep. But, there's nothing—and I mean nothing—not even a speck of dust underneath. “Figures you’re a neat freak,” I say to the empty room.

  When I pop up and scan the room, I see my little black dress neatly draped over the back of a chair in the corner.

  “What the fuck?” Now, I know I’m not going insane. I did not take my dress off across the room. And while I’ve never been a messy person, I’m not one to take the extra time.

  The thought that Jaxon was in here while I slept should give me pause or, at the very least, put me on edge. But it doesn’t. Instead, I wonder what he was thinking as he sat there, still as death, watching me sleep.

  I grab my dress and head to the bathroom, or at least I think it is the bathroom. And it is, sort of. Instead of walking into the bathroom, I walk into a changing suite. There is what can only be described as a spa to the right, and to the left, the most luxurious “closet” I’ve ever seen. I toss my dress onto the chaise and head to the closet.

  The room, while masquerading as a closet, is more of a Barney’s NY showroom than a place to keep clothing. Lavish suits costing more than my annual salary line one wall. Silk ties, tie-clips, cufflinks, and watches are all displayed perfectly in individual, velvet, lighted boxes along the back.

  I glide my fingers over one of the Bulgari watches neatly displayed. This is a level of wealth few will ever experience. I know I never will.

  I walk along the suit wall, letting my fingers brush the opulent fabric. Thinking about Jaxon the night before in just the vest from a three-piece brings a smile to my lips and a warm tingle every place else. Stopping, I bring the sleeve of one up to my nose and inhale deeply. I can’t imagine that he would ever need to wear the same
suit twice, but I swear I can smell him.

  “See something you like?” Jaxon is so close that I feel his warm breath against my ear as he speaks.

  “Jesus!” I yell, startled by the sudden intrusion. His voice has me jumping, caught red-handed sniffing his suits. When I turn quickly, I fall directly into his arms.

  How was he so close without me hearing him?

  I try to wriggle free, realizing too late that I’ve been caught not only smelling his clothing, but I was doing it in my underwear. Self-preservation replaces my mortification, and I yank a suit jacket off a hanger to cover my near-naked state.

  “You don’t need to cover up on my account.” He gives me one of those wicked smiles as he devours me with his eyes. His stare lingers, not so subtly, on my lace-covered breasts as he licks and then sucks on his lower lip. “Although I have to admit, seeing you in my suit jacket is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Glaring at him, I tighten my hold on the jacket I snagged that smells so deliciously like him. The sleeves cover my hands by several inches, and the hem hangs longer than the cocktail dress I wore the night before. Even still, I feel naked and on display. “What are you doing here?” I snap.

  His smug grin starts on one side of his perfect lips, until that devilish, panty-dropping smile is all I can concentrate on. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? After all, this is my apartment.” He takes a long stride forward, invading what little personal space I have left. “And you are standing in my closet, barely dressed.”

  Warmth spreads through my body as he speaks, and I want to argue with him for no reason at all. “Were you watching me sleep like some deranged creeper?”

  Of course, he outwardly laughs at my question, which angers me more, but still doesn’t dissuade my body's reaction to him. I can already feel how wet I am from him just standing in front of me, looking so… delectable.