Chapter 21
Twenty-One
FLYNN
She’s late.
Of course she’s late.
I should have known this was going to happen, but the first day? Really? She has hours. Strict hours, and she still managed to leave an hour later than expected.
I’m pacing the front room, my footsteps silent on the hardwood floor, and I can feel the control I’ve been maintaining for the past three weeks starting to fray at the edges.
The house is perfect—security system armed, wards in place, every entrance monitored.
But none of that matters if she’s not here, safe, where I can see her.
The black Armani suit I’m wearing feels too tight suddenly, like my skin doesn’t fit right.
I’ve been dressed for an hour, waiting, the anticipation building until it’s almost painful.
Upstairs, the bedroom is ready—black silk sheets that cost more than most people’s monthly rent, the red gown laid out on the bed like an offering.
Red silk lingerie beside it, also silk, because nothing else is good enough for her.
Nothing will ever be good enough for her.
I should give her a punishment because she’s late to her own end of the punishment.
The thought makes me laugh, a short, dark sound that echoes in the empty room. I know I’m being dramatic. I know I’m being ridiculous. But fuck, I’ve missed her so much, and I just want tonight to be perfect and to show her how much I love her, and then at breakfast, I’ll share it all.
The texts from my father. The threats. The game he’s playing.
Everything.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out with more force than necessary.
Unknown
Tick tock. How long until she realizes who you really are?
I delete it immediately, like I’ve deleted all the others. But the words linger, poisonous and true.
What am I really? A monster pretending to be a man. A predator pretending to be a protector. A creature who’s lived long enough to know that everything I touch eventually turns to ash.
But not her. Not Talulla. She’s the exception to every rule I’ve ever known.
I’ve been tracking her family—Emil is still in the States, moving between safe houses, but his network is active.
The notes we’ve been receiving are definitely his work, even if he’s not delivering them personally.
And Nora…I’ve been wondering about Nora.
Talulla’s mother. The woman who raised a daughter to be a weapon and then watched her run.
I know she’s keeping her distance for safety, and I know it’s slowly killing Talulla having to accept it. I didn’t ask, didn’t push, but I noticed. I always notice everything about her.
Another buzz.
Unknown
She’ll leave you. As soon as she finds out.
I throw the phone across the room. It hits the wall with a satisfying crack, the screen splintering. I’ll buy another one. I’ve bought dozens over the years, destroyed in moments of rage I can’t quite control.
The hunger is getting worse. Not for blood—I fed this morning, a bag from my private supply, ethically sourced from willing donors who are compensated well for their trouble. No, this hunger is specifically for her. For Talulla’s blood, for the taste I’ve denied myself for over a year now.
Every time she offers, every time she tilts her head and exposes that beautiful throat, I want to say yes. I want to sink my fangs into her skin and drink until I’m drunk on her, until I can’t tell where she ends and I begin.
But I can’t. Not until she knows everything. Not until she chooses me with full knowledge of what I am, what I’ve done, what my father is doing.
Not until she’s truly mine. Forever.
The sound of a car pulling up outside snaps me out of my spiral. Jonathan’s car. She’s here.
I force myself to stillness, to calm, to the mask of control I’ve perfected over decades. By the time the door opens and she rushes in, I’m the picture of composure.
Except I’m not. Not really. Because the moment I see her—flushed and gorgeous and apologizing—something in my chest unclenches.
“I know, I am late and you are pissed, but I swear it wasn’t my fault. Well, technically it was my fault but—”
She’s here. She’s safe. She came home to me.
The predator in me, the part that’s been pacing and snarling for the past hour, finally settles. My jaw relaxes. My hands unclench. The rage that was building dissipates like smoke.
“This better not become a habit, Talulla,” I say, brushing her cheek. Her skin is warm under my palm, alive, human. Everything I’m not. “I’m not going to murder anymore…for now.”
“Flynn.”
“Kidding.” Mostly.
She explains about work, about Carl Evans showing her the artifacts, about losing track of time.
And I know this was bound to happen. It’s Talulla.
This is where she thrives—in research and discovery and the pursuit of knowledge.
Not on a nine to five schedule. She’s a stubborn perfectionist who will always choose one more artifact, one more translation, one more piece of the puzzle.
I love that about her. Even when it drives me insane.
“Don’t remind me that he’s a he,” I say, playing my part in our usual banter.
She crosses her arms, and the gesture makes her breasts lift in that blouse, and suddenly I’m very aware that we’re alone and she’s here and the punishment is over and I can finally—
“You can’t use that one anymore, mister. You forced me to get a male babysitter.”
“He’s barely a man.”
“Well, I’ll make sure not to share that with Jonathan. Besides, Mr. Evans is a happily married old man that is very much ready to retire.”
Her eyes travel down my body, and I can smell the shift in her scent—arousal, sharp and sweet. “You look, well, hot as fuck.”
I snort. “Well, thank you.”
She walks into my arms, and I wrap them around her, breathing in her scent. Vanilla and something uniquely her, something that makes the hunger spike again. “And you always smell so good I can’t ever get enough of it.”
“You can smell me any time you want, darling.”
She searches for my eyes, and I gesture toward the bed where I left everything out for her. The red silk gown with the dangerous slit. The lingerie set. All of it chosen specifically to drive me insane.
“Flynn, you didn’t have to,” she says, her jaw dropping as she holds the dress up. “It’s perfect.”
“My red ruby deserves the world,” I reply, kissing her forehead. The endearment feels right on my tongue, feels like truth. She is my red ruby—precious and rare and worth more than anything else in my long existence.
I walk toward the chair in front of the bed, forcing myself to give her space to change.
If I stay, if I watch her undress, I’ll cancel everything.
The reservation at Marcus’s restaurant, the carefully planned evening, all of it will go out the window because I’ll bend her over the bed and take her right here, right now.
“Now get dressed, I got a couple of things planned for you, Miss Tardiness.”
She laughs and gets to work. I see her run to the bathroom, and I almost follow her. Almost. Because I know she’s removing her work clothes. And if I see the evidence of how I’ve been preparing her all day—I might actually lose my mind.
The memory of this morning is burned into my brain. The way she’d gasped when I’d pressed the plug inside her, the way she’d clenched around it, the way she’d looked at me with those blue eyes full of trust and desire and love.
Trust. She trusts me. After everything, she trusts me with her body, her pleasure, her submission.
The thought makes the hunger worse. Makes me want to drink from her, to mark her, to make sure everyone knows she’s mine.
“There’s another reason why we got back so late,” she yells from the bathroom.
“Yeah?” I reply, my curiosity getting the best of me. “And what would that reason be?”
She walks back to our bedroom in her underwear, and I try everything in my power not to look at her because if I do, it’s game over. The lace barely covers anything, and I can already imagine the marks I’m going to leave on her hips tonight, faint bruises in the shape of my fingers.
Mine. She’s mine.
“The SPIA alpha paid me a visit.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. All the arousal, all the anticipation, all of it dies instantly. I turn to her, eyes wide, and I can feel my fangs extending, the predator surging forward. “Excuse me?”
“He just asked about the case the Drusus are working on, relax.”
I growl, the sound inhuman and dark. “Relax? How am I supposed to relax when the alpha of a fucking secret agency knows your every fucking move?”
“It will be very uncomfortable for him later tonight if he’s really watching.”
The comment should make me laugh, but I’m too far gone. I dial Cassandra’s number, and she picks up after one ring.
“Flynn, I don’t need you threatening me.”
“You don’t? Fucking fix it, or I will end you.
” The words come out harsher than I intend, but I can’t help it.
The thought of werewolves watching Talulla, of them knowing where she works, where she lives, what she does—it makes me want to paint the streets red.
I took care of the tracker right away. I made sure she had no trace of that place, goddammit.
“Nah, you wouldn’t, but Set and Asmo are on it.”
“Are you talking to Cass? Put her on speaker,” Talulla asks as she’s changing her earrings.
I do, and Cassandra’s voice fills the room. “Tal, can you tell your vampire to stop worrying?”
“I’m gonna stop worrying when you stop putting my mate into dangerous situations for no damn reason.” The word mate comes out before I can stop it, possessive and claiming.
“Didn’t I apologize like seven times?”
“Yes, you did. And Flynn is exaggerating as always, no need to be concerned. Now excuse us for calling like this, we have a date to get to,” Talulla says, glaring at me.
Her eyes narrow, and the look she gives me is pure challenge. It makes my cock throb in my trousers, makes the predator in me want to throw her on the bed and show her exactly who’s in charge.
But not yet. Not until I’ve given her the evening I promised.