Page 14 of Vampire Soldier
I give him a small smirk, unable to keep the tease from my voice as I reply, “What if my problem is with you? What’ll you do about it then?”
So much for staying professional. Something about this vampire—this man—makes me want to drop the defenses I’ve carefully created over the years. Maybe it’s because the first time we met, he literally swooped in and protected me. Even when he’d crowded me against his office door, I never felt that he’d hurt me. He feels safe to tease, to flirt with, and working for as long as I have in strip clubs, you learn who’s safe and who isn’t real fast.
The intersection is clear but Malachi doesn’t move. The world slowly disappears around us as I find myself caught in his gaze. The intensity, the raw emotion there, takes my breath away and I can’t bring myself to look away. This is what he’d been hiding this afternoon, his walls down and his true self bare before me. There’s an undercurrent to his scent, one that tugs at me. A longing, a hunger, and I don’t feel like it’s my blood he wants. Not for the first time, my body reacts. My pulse races, my mouth dries, and a tingle grows between my legs. The way he stares down at me, his gaze caressing me, I don’t doubt he knows the effect he’s having on me.
I lick my lips, suddenly nervous. His eyes zero in on the movement and my heart pounds harder. What is it about him that makes me feel like prey about to be caught by a predator? Is it because I am a prey animal, the small deer he’d likened me to, and I’m responding to him because of it? Or is it the fact that a part of me is beginning to suspect this is something more, that he’s the only man who has made me feel safe and wanted without ever touching me?
My heart pounds in my throat and his golden gaze drops lower. A new sort of hunger is there now, the faintest vermillion red ring seeping out from the dark of his pupil. It’s a reminder that we are completely different creatures, even if we look similar. That I really am his prey. That I’m food to him. Heat races down my neck and I should be afraid. Instead, the idea of Malachi’s mouth on my neck, taking what he wants, turns me on in a way I’m pretty sure isn’t healthy. After all, the rabbit isn’t supposed to submit to the fox.
My phone rings from the back pocket of my shorts, shattering the moment and saving me from making a bad decision. I step away from him, needing space, but there’s no such thing as enough space from this man, I’m realizing.
Any arousal or lust or crush or whatever strange thing that’s going on between me and my new boss disappears when I see the name on the screen.
“Hey, baby girl, is everything okay?” I answer, checking for cars before crossing the street. I’m only three blocks away from home.
“Uncle Sam is here,” Charlie says, frustration clear in her young voice. “He showed up about twenty minutes ago and wouldn’t stop knocking until I let him in. He’s in the kitchen right now.”
I stop, just for a minute to drop my head back and close my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I don’t screech at the sky like a crazy person as much as I want to. “I’m not far from home, kiddo. Tell him I’ll be there in a few.”
We hang up and I walk even faster, determined to get home and figure out what the hell my twin wants this time. As I power walk down the street and take the left that puts me on the road my place is on, I’m grateful that Tonya never required anyone doing bar service to wear heels.
“Problem?”
I look to my left, where Malachi is keeping pace with me easily, his hands in his pockets. I let out a rough breath and shake my head.
“Not for long,” I mutter. I gesture to my place up ahead. “Okay, I’m home. You can go do whatever it is you do at night. Go stalk one of your other employees.”
“Hm,” is all I get in reply as we reach my front door.
I dig in my small purse for my keys, brandishing them at him. “Okay, I don’t have the energy to deal with whatever this is right now.” I turn and unlock the door. “Just go home, Malachi.”
I don’t wait for any response, just open the door and head inside before kicking it closed behind me. I drop my purse on the small emerald green foyer table I scored at a thrift store three years ago and head right towards the sound in the back.
Charlie, all rumpled from sleep in one of her classic rock tees and frog-printed shorts, is sitting at our small dining table tucked in the breakfast nook of the kitchen at the back of the row house. I ignore the man opening my cabinets for the moment, going to my daughter first. I hug her, pressing a kiss to her strawberry-blond hair before patting her back.
“Okay, you go back to bed, baby girl. I’ll deal with this now,” I whisper to her.
“You sure?” She stands and looks over my shoulder, reminding me that whoever her dad was must have been tall since she’s almost my height already. “I can stay—” she cuts off, her eyes going wide, then she meets mine. “Or you already have backup.”
I look over my shoulder and call on all the patience hard-won by being a single, young mom to keep any of the irritation off of my face. Malachi clearly did not get the message and is now leaning against the doorway between the entry hall and kitchen. I turn back to Charlie, smiling, and her expression tells me she has so many questions.
“Go to bed, young lady.” I walk her the few steps to the doorway and Malachi steps further into the kitchen so she can pass. “You’ve got school tomorrow.”
Charlie gives me one last searching look, her bright blue eyes questioning. My heart basically melts with affection for this girl, knowing that if she thought I needed help, she’d be willing to stand up with me to her problematic uncle and a strange man. I give her a small nod and a more genuine smile. “Love you, baby girl.”
“Love you too, Mom,” she says with a roll of her eyes before heading towards the stairs. Ah, yes, there’s the pre-teen attitude.
One thing taken care of, I turn back towards the next two issues. I glare at Malachi, deciding to deal with him last since he seems somewhat more reasonable than my brother. Then again, with everything that’s happened since I woke up this morning, maybe Malachi is the bigger problem.
ChapterEight
BLAKE
Sam.”
He doesn’t look at me, instead opening another cabinet and shuffling through the items. “Hey, where’d you store the peanut butter pretzels? I know you’ve got them.”
“I’m out,” I reply, deadpanned.
