Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
bloom
I got my shit together enough to meet with my team ten minutes after Maverick left my office. The meeting rooms were on the other side of the building, so going over there required crossing the whole floor again.
Once again, I had to fight to keep my emotions in check as I went.
Everyone’s staring made sense. It was inevitable. They were afraid of me, and I’d lied to them for years.
It still affected me, though.
My team was uncharacteristically quiet as they arrived in the room. Everyone but Carter, my closest office friend besides Harper, found something other than me to look at as they took their seats.
I remained standing, even though it probably made me look more threatening rather than less. Fangs and red eyes aside, how threatening could a 5’5” woman in a fuzzy sweater possibly be?
With the way they were avoiding my gaze, I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer to that.
Anyway, I had to stand to run the meeting.
“We might as well clear the air,” I said, fighting like hell to keep my emotions under control.
Everyone knew I was a vampire. My best friend was dying. And an Alpha werewolf had just declared me his possession while seducing me.
But I was fine.
Totally.
Fucking.
Fine.
“Hi, my name is Bloom Sharpe, and I’m a vampire. I still drink my weight in sugary milk with a dash of coffee in it every day, love cozy sweaters, and have hard candies in all of my bags like your typical grandma,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.
“I guess we know why you can keep such a nice figure while drinking so damn many lattes,” Phyllis muttered. She was the most anal middle-aged woman I’d ever met, with dark brown eyes, light skin, and naturally red hair that was streaked with gray.
And with that compliment, she was my new favorite.
“Your red eyes are striking,” Carter offered.
He could be my second favorite, because striking was only kind of a compliment.
“Thanks. Anyway, the werewolves told me I could either help them make Darkwood Investment compliant, or stay locked up in their tower, so here I am. We all know how much of a mess the paperwork is, so this is going to be a shitshow, but it is what it is. I plan on telling the wolves that all of you are going to need raises, and that we’ll need more hands, because this is a hell of a lot more than a ten-person job. ”
Most of them sat up straighter.
When money came into play, everyone paid more attention.
We spent the next two hours making a detailed plan. By the time everyone had their assignments and the meeting ended, my head hurt, and I was itching for my second latte.
I went straight from the meeting room to my favorite part of the office—the large, fancy coffee bar on the side of the open desk area.
I was making my usual latte at the coffee bar and trying like hell to ignore all of the eyes on me when Carter came strolling up.
He grabbed a cup and filled it with black coffee from the drip machine. “That went better than I expected.”
I lifted an eyebrow at him. “How did you expect it to go?”
He chuckled. “I thought someone might piss themself.”
“I should probably be offended that they didn’t. I’m quite terrifying.” I added two pumps of vanilla syrup to my drink, like always.
“Having the Alpha around for the past week must’ve numbed them to your brand of intimidation. He’s scarier than you.”
“I guess.” I stirred my latte. “You’re not nervous?”
“Nah. I’ve got bigger problems than the most beautiful woman in the office turning out to be a vampire.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed, talking like that.” I glanced over my shoulder, making sure no one was nearby.
They weren’t, thankfully.
Carter gave me a small, wry grin. “I can’t imagine he’ll kill me for stating a fact.”
“Then your imagination isn’t very good.”
His grin widened.
“What’s going on? Is it your sister?” We’d been friends for long enough that I felt comfortable asking, and he barely seemed fazed by my vampirism. The week he’d had to wrap his mind around it probably helped.
His sister had been battling cancer for a few months now, and as most people would, he’d been struggling with it.
He lifted his mug to his lips, turning around so he was leaning against the cabinets as he sipped his coffee without any sugar or creamer.
Bitter dirt. He was drinking bitter dirt.
I tasted my latte and nearly gagged.
I was also drinking bitter dirt.
Milky, bitter dirt.
Two more pumps of syrup went into the cup, and I glanced at the beans. They were the same. I’d made everything normally.
My latte had tasted wrong earlier, too.
The drink in my hand was slightly more palatable when I tasted it again, thanks to the sweeter vanilla flavor, but only slightly.
After a beat of hesitation, I added two more pumps, and tried another sip through the straw.
It was… fine.
After kissing Maverick, imitation vanilla just didn’t seem to be doing it for me. I wanted the real thing.
I screwed the lid back on my cup anyway and looked at Carter.
His grin was gone, and he was staring down into his mug of drinkable dirt. “She took a turn for the worse. We’re not sure how much time she has left.”
My chest squeezed. “I’m so sorry.” I put a hand on his arm.
“Thanks.” He put his hand over mine, pressing lightly.
I pulled my hand away and turned back to my coffee. “Is there anything I can—”
Something slammed down on the counter beside me.
I jerked away, then gaped down at Carter’s head. It rested on the countertop, pinned beneath a very large, tattooed hand that was wrapped around his throat.
Carter’s dark brown eyes were bulging and duller than usual, his fingers grasping at the hand around his throat.
Holy fuck.
“Don’t, Mav.” I grabbed Maverick’s wrist, meeting a pair of furious, glowing green eyes.
“What did I just say?” he gritted out. “No one touches you.”
“I forgot. And I’m the one who touched him—on the arm, just as a friend—so you can’t kill him.” I tried not to panic.
How did someone talk a murderous werewolf off the edge?
I had no idea.
Yelling?
Tackling?
Kissing him?
I couldn’t see either of the first two things actually making a difference. And how was I possibly going to reach his mouth to kiss him when he was bent over Carter, threatening his life?
Rhone was nowhere to be seen, so he obviously didn’t give a damn if Maverick killed a random guy for touching me.
I needed to do something.
Fast.
“Drink this.” I shoved my cup toward Maverick, pushing the straw into his mouth. “Now.”
He glowered at me, but took a small drink.
And proceeded to gag. “What the fuck is that?”
“Vanilla syrup. You’ve ruined me. Now let go of the small human. No offense, Carter.”
Maverick loosened his grip, just slightly. Carter managed a shallow breath. “What do you mean, I’ve ruined you?”
“Follow me to my office and I’ll tell you.”
He stared at me with narrowed eyes, but didn’t move.
“Come on.” I grabbed his wrist and tugged as I stepped away. “Or I might accidentally touch someone else.”
Maverick growled, but he finally released Carter and let me pull him a few steps to the side.
“I’m sorry,” I called over my shoulder, tightening my grip on Maverick’s arm and walking faster.
“Thanks,” Carter called out, coughing once as he cleared his throat.
“I think this is the first time you’ve touched me without being angry or turned on,” Maverick grumbled. “I should start threatening your friends more often.”
“So you do know he’s just my friend.”
We reached my office, and I pushed him toward the door. When he grabbed it, he held it open and waved me through. “I know he wants you, and that you’re mine.”
I wasn’t touching either of those “facts” with a ten-foot pole.
“That was not acceptable,” I said, gesturing toward the coffee bar. “He was telling me that his sister is dying. I put my hand on his arm as I was saying I’m sorry. It had nothing to do you, or attraction, or sex, or—what are you doing?”
He’d taken my chair and propped his feet up on my desk. His bare feet.
Did the man not own a pair of shoes? He could definitely afford them.
“Listening,” he said.
“Did you hear a single word?”
“Attraction. Sex.”
I huffed. “Stop staring at me, and listen.”
“You’re fun to stare at, and I told you, I’ve been listening.”
“Can you take me seriously for two minutes, Maverick?”
“Can you?”
“What?”
He gestured toward the coffee bar like I had. “I told you I can’t control my instincts right now. You didn’t listen. Do you think I want to attack puny little humans who can’t defend themselves?”
I blinked.
I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that.
“Now, you owe me an explanation as far as how I’ve ruined your coffee.” He gestured toward the drink in my hand. “That is an abomination, by the way. Even immortal digestive systems shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
“I’ve always had a love affair with vanilla lattes. You smell like vanilla, and it seems to have affected my taste buds.” I sighed. “I might have to switch to caramel or mochas or something.”
“Or you could just get your vanilla from the source.” He tapped the side of my throat.
“There is no world in which I bite your jugular. Vampires don’t do that with anyone other than their mate.”
“Since when?”
“Since the war. Feeding from someone’s neck increases your odds of taking too much and turning or killing your food source.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You’d pass out from overconsumption before you took enough to knock me out. It’s almost humorous that you think you could kill me.”
“Vampires are predators.”
“I saw how well you can fight the first time I bit you. You don’t know anything about hurting someone.”
“I have teeth.” I pointed to my fangs, which were not descended, and I didn’t try to make them descend.
“Everyone has teeth.”
“Okay, well, I could accidentally kill you.” I paused. “Probably.”
“No. I heal too fast.”
“Is that how you gave me so many blood bags?”
He nodded. “No big deal. Two bags, three times, two days apart. It barely affected me.”
My eyebrows raised. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“You’re a vampire’s wet dream.”
His lips curved slowly.