Chapter 20 #2
“No,” I reply, reaching out to gently tug her sleeve back down. Her breath catches, doe eyes blinking up at me. I hold her gaze, tilting my head slightly. “Mind if I join you?”
“Uh, we were just–” she starts, but I slide into the booth before she can finish.
The space is narrow, forcing her to scoot closer to the wall, shopping bags crinkling.
I don’t mind. I lean in, deliberately invading her space and pressing a kiss to her temple.
Her pulse stutters, breath hitching again at the contact.
I love how flustered she gets, how easily she unravels at the barest touch. Taylor Holt is an exquisite creature– a rare beauty in a sea of mediocrity. To possess her is a quiet triumph.
“I hope my credit card got a decent workout today,” I remark, nodding at the pile of shopping bags wedged beside her.
She flushes, subtly shifting away, but I follow, closing the gap before she can create it.
“Uh, yeah,” she breathes, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. “I hope that’s okay. You said to use it for my wardrobe, so…”
“Of course,” I reply smoothly. “It’s only money, and I have far more than I could ever spend on my own. Buy anything you like, darling.” I gesture across the table, finally acknowledging that we’re not alone. “For your friend, too.”
“Oh, we did,” Bex cuts in, flashing a mischievous grin. She extends her hand, green eyes glinting with intrigue. “We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m–”
“Bex Hamilton,” I finish for her, taking her hand and brushing my lips across her knuckles.
She arches a brow. “Stalk much?”
My lips curl into a smirk. Feisty. “I like to stay apprised of the people in my orbit. And since that includes Taylor, it also includes you.”
“I’m not sure if that’s flattering or psychotic,” she mutters, eyes narrowing.
Taylor cuts her a sharp look, but I just shrug nonchalantly, leaning further into the booth and draping an arm across the back.
“What are you doing here, James?” Taylor whispers, eyes flicking up to catch mine.
“You weren’t at the house,” I answer simply.
She blinks, color flooding her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I meant to be back by–” she checks her phone, wincing. “Nine.”
“No harm done,” I drawl, glancing around the bar. “I welcome the change in scenery. This place is… charming.”
“Pretty sure you’re the first person who’s used that word to describe it,” Bex snorts, raising her drink. “Didn’t think the king of the undead frequented shithole tequila bars.”
“My tastes are eclectic,” I reply with a shrug. “And I needed to ensure Taylor was safe. If I’d known she was leaving the estate, I would’ve sent a security detail with her.”
Bex rolls her eyes, though there’s a flicker of fondness beneath the sarcasm. “Yeah, well, she’s safe with me. Safer than she is with you, probably.”
“Debatable,” I murmur.
Taylor finally cracks a smile, tension loosening from her shoulders.
“Well, since you’re here, you can buy us the next round,” Bex chirps.
My gaze slides to her again, irritation pricking just beneath the surface. I can’t decide if her attitude is endearing or insufferable. She should be more afraid of vampires– but something tells me Taylor wouldn’t appreciate me correcting that. So, I let it slide.
“Of course,” I say smoothly, signaling a passing server.
I order another round of margaritas for the girls and a top-shelf whiskey for myself– though, of course, they don’t have it. I settle for whatever passes as their best, knowing I’ll have to choke it down.
I may be a king amongst my kind, but I’m adaptable. I can slum it in a place like this one moment and hold court at my castle the next. All part of the game, and I’m always the smartest player on the board.
Once our drinks arrive, I lift mine and turn to Taylor. “Buy anything good today?”
She flushes, looking like she’s about to apologize again, but Bex jumps in before she can.
“You should’ve seen her,” she gushes, eyes bright. “First time in her life she didn’t have to check price tags, but of course she did anyways. I had to physically restrain her from putting back the fancy moisturizer.”
Taylor shoots her a murderous glare, face flaming. “It’s just a lot, okay?” she scoffs defensively. “I’m not used to…” she trails off, averting her eyes.
“Indulgence suits you,” I say, letting my hand fall to her thigh beneath the table, casual but deliberate. I watch her pupils flare, her breath catch, that familiar shiver ripple through her.
Stunning.
“I’m glad you went out,” I add, tone silky. “You should do it more often. I have a standing arrangement with most of the luxury retailers in the city, you could buy out an entire store if you wanted.”
She tries not to smile, but her lips betray her. “Maybe next time.”
“Definitely next time,” Bex says, raising her glass to Taylor. “I plan to live vicariously through you for the foreseeable future. And speaking of…” she turns back to me with the focus of a child about to interrogate Santa. “Can I ask you something? Actually, I have like a million questions.”
“Only a million?” I scoff, amused. “Fire away.”
Her grin widens. “Can you turn into a bat?”
“No,” I reply flatly.
“Can you fly?”
Again, “No.”
“Are you allergic to garlic?”
I take a lazy sip of my drink. “I’m Sicilian. I’d starve without it.”
That earns a chuckle. Bex takes another sip of her margarita, then asks, “Do you have a reflection?”
“Yes.”
“And you can walk in the sun?”
I take another swallow of the shitty whiskey. “Sunlight is irritating, not fatal.”
Bex squints, unconvinced. “What does kill you then?”
I hold her gaze, smile turning cold. “Decapitation. Or having one’s heart torn out, which is the less pleasant option.”
“Noted,” she mumbles, undaunted. “And what about stakes through the heart? Is that real, or just Hollywood bullshit?”
“Technically, that would kill anyone. But it’s a lot messier with us. You’d have to be strong enough to get through the bone, and most humans aren’t.”
Bex seems delighted by that tidbit, but Taylor just shakes her head, lips twitching with a smile she’s trying hard to hide. I take the opportunity to tighten my grip on her thigh, sliding my hand a fraction higher. Her pulse jumps, breath catching– but she doesn’t move away.
“So what are your weaknesses, then?” Bex asks, still not satisfied.
I flash her a wicked grin. “Who says we have any?”
“Come on, there has to be something,” she presses. “Otherwise you’d be the ones running things.”
I cock a brow. “Who says we aren’t?”
She frowns, clearly unamused by the way I’m answering her questions with more questions. “If you were, then why the hell would you outlaw feeding from a living source?”
“Because the underground blood economy is much more profitable,” I reply coolly.
“It’s simple supply and demand. Humans see the law as a victory– they feel safer with it in place.
And for us, it means fewer messes to clean up.
Less conflict. It keeps the system balanced and allows coexistence to continue without interruption. ”
Her brow furrows, nose scrunching as she thinks it through. “Why not just cut through the red tape and turn everyone into vampires, then?”
“We require human blood to survive,” I deadpan. “An abundance of humans ensures we never go hungry or fight one another for resources. And fewer vampires means fewer rivals, fewer power struggles. Like I said, balance.”
She nods slowly. “That makes sense, I guess.”
“Now it’s my turn,” I say, voice dropping an octave as I turn the tables on her. “How did you two meet?”
“Don’t you already know?” Bex replies with a sweet smile that’s anything but. “We’ve been partners in crime our whole lives.”
“You mean the arrest for shoplifting?” I ask mildly. “Or was it the drunk and disorderly charge at the bar in Midtown?”
She barks a laugh of genuine surprise. “Oh, you’ve done your homework.” Bex turns to Taylor, green eyes gleaming. “Told you the supervillain types always do.”
Taylor just rolls her eyes while Bex cackles and sips her drink.
“So,” I prompt again, patient but pointed, “how did you two meet?”
Bex leans back, folding her arms. “A group home, originally. We were both the weird kids with night terrors, which meant everyone hated us equally. So we stuck together. We both bounced around a lot, but we kept finding our way back to each other.”
“Impressive that you were able to maintain contact in such an unstable environment,” I remark, knowing exactly how many times their paths intertwined from Taylor’s juvenile record.
She shrugs. “More or less. Guess our friendship was just meant to be.”
I nod, filing away every detail. “Taylor hasn’t mentioned much about her past.”
“There’s not much to say,” Bex scoffs. “It sucked, but we survived.”
“I think we can leave it at that,” Taylor mutters, shooting Bex a warning look.
Interesting.
I let the silence settle, watching the tension coil in Taylor’s jaw, feeling the restless bounce of her knee beneath the table. As much as I want to keep prying for information, I don’t want to spook her.
And she’s so damn tempting.
My eyes skim over her face, tracing every delicate feature– the curve of her plush lips, the little dip of her cupid’s bow. The way her thick dark lashes fan over her cheeks when she blinks. I slide my hand higher along her thigh, fingertips brushing the apex through the thin barrier of her tights.
The muscle in her jaw flickers, and for a second I think she might resist. Instead, she shifts under my hand, thighs parting just enough to invite me further.
I delve deeper under her dress, knuckles tracing the center seam of her tights until she squirms, fingers tightening on the edge of the table.
Bex clocks the shift in her friend’s demeanor, eyes darting from me to Taylor and back. She grins, sharp and knowing, but says nothing.
I wonder if she knows how much her friend enjoys an audience?