CHAPTER 9 #3
In the next moment, he swings me up into his arms, lifting me high enough that our lips land on one level.
And he kisses me in a long, slow melding.
I cup his beautiful face in my palms, not caring if I smear his makeup.
This is our first kiss in front of others, and every sigh that echoes around the room touches me down to my soul.
It feels so right. How can it be wrong?
For a few moments, as I gently taste him, savoring the connection, he remains immobile, but then it’s like someone turned on a switch. One of his hands cups the back of my head as he jiggles me into a one-arm hold—and how strong he has to be to do it—and presses me into him.
From still to whirlwind, he backs me against a wall and devours me, taking my mouth with a force I relish.
Hunger, thirst, and yearning spread from his tongue to mine.
I feel the passion of it down deep inside me, tightening my core, but loosening something knotted and reserved that’s grown inside me since forever.
I’ve always been a good girl. This is the opposite of who I’ve been. But this feels like destiny all the same.
My legs wrap around him, holding me steadier as we kiss, and kiss, and kiss, all of me becoming him, until Jean-Luc interjects much-needed sanity.
“So much for pretense,” he says, extra-loud.
Alain laughs into my smile. “Oh, yeah. So much for pretense.” Slowly, his humor fades.
The hand that holds my head tight snakes out to gently trace my cheekbone.
“I want you, Bumps, in every way possible. I know this is all wrong. There’s no future between us, and it’s going to kill me when we have to part, but I can’t deny it anymore.
I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you so hard that you remember me for the rest of your life.
I want every man that comes after me to suffer by comparison.
I want your dreams to be only of me. I want your nightmares to be the last moment we share together.
And I only care a very little about what a monster that makes me. ”
His eyes are sad. Too full of emotion. Too desperate.
“Ditto.” Because what else can I say? I lean in and brush a quicker kiss against his lips, evading the way he immediately tries to deepen it. “But right now, I’ve got a party to get ready for, and so do you.”
“And later?”
I glance over my shoulder at the grazing table. “After, I guess we have a private party for us. That is, if you’re still interested.”
Another, stronger, unwavering fire burns deep in his eyes. “Like you could beat me off with a stick, Bumps.”
“Or a stake.”
His smile has ragged edges. “The only staking happening tonight will be my cock plunging into your pussy. Fair warning: you come to my room with this gorgeous table, and you’re mine.”
An audible groan bites into our conversation. “Yeesh, that’s too much to overhear. I’m going to put the table into the walk-in refrigerator. You two get ready for the party. And leave something to the imagination, won’t you?” Jean-Luc skirts us and takes hold of the handle of the rolling table.
I’m not sure either of us notice once it’s gone. We only have eyes for each other.
+++++
After taking time with my hygiene, I slip into a long, red silk charmeuse dress that hits all my curves exactly right and makes me look like some vampire sacrifice.
Honestly, the dress is more lingerie than evening gown, something a 1940s starlet would wear, maybe, but it covers me, and it’s so elegant that I’m almost afraid to wear it.
But it’s what lies next to the dress that takes my breath.
There’s a velvet jeweler’s box. When I lift the lid, I find a suite of diamonds, each one emerald-shaped, each one as large as my thumb nail.
Between the diamonds sit circular red rubies.
The bracelet is simple, but the necklace drapes in descending layers of finely wrought gold, so thin that it doesn’t seem capable of holding the heavy gems. By comparison, the earrings are small—a single ruby with a larger diamond beneath.
It’s as if Alain understands my training: never wear dangly earrings that an enemy can grab.
Everything inside me swings wildly from one emotion to the next.
I can’t decide how I feel about the jewelry.
On the one hand, it’s a bit like another layer of chains, manacles that bind me closer to the devastating gargoyle.
On the other, there’s a promise of something more.
Something that doesn’t have to do with money, but with security.
Safety. A port in the storm to call my own.
I spent every cent in my bank account to make him the grazing table. I’m even overdrawn on my credit card by three hundred dollars that the bank somehow allowed. Even at the cheap New Jersey market, food is expensive. But this jewelry… I’m holding a fortune I can’t calculate.
Of course, I’m not going to keep it. Like all the clothes, shoes, designer handbags, hair products, and make-up, it’s all a loan to help me fulfill my part of our bargain.
There’s a hint that he might consider letting me come live near him in Paris, but he hasn’t said anything since our traipse up the hill to view the early foliage.
That means I’m his girlfriend for two more days, and then I’m toast. Goodbye, sayonara, don’t let the door hit you, Bunny. Go back to your day job, your empty dreams, and your slayer duty, and this time, try to find an actual vampire to stake rather than a protective, delicious gargoyle.
My traitorous body cramps, imagining Alain hovering over me tonight in bed.
I want that. I want to trust him enough to lie beneath him, to let him stab into me and make me come apart.
That’s going to be my gift to me, because I’m pretty sure I’m never going to find someone as devastating as Alain again. As practiced. As sure. As perfect.
That I’ve fallen in love with.
Stupid, dumb, idiotic fake girlfriend.
Once I’ve fastened on the jewels and stepped into ridiculously high heels that make my ankles turn as I wobble to the mirror, I check out how I look.
I’m going to take this with me, too—the way I see myself.
I’m radiant, blushing like a new bride, the makeup simple, my lips red to match the dress, and my body transformed into something from a magazine by the cut and contour of the silk.
And the jewels. Mustn’t forget the jewels that make me appear to be nothing but an empty-headed socialite, until I look into my eyes and see the terror there.
I’ve lived with fear so long, I’ve stopped noticing it. Being a slayer comes with a short life expectancy. I’ve always known it. But now, dressed in social armor, the terror is glaring by comparison with how powerful I look.
It's not dying young that I’m afraid of anymore. It’s not the lack of fitting in. No, at this moment I’m afraid of losing something I don’t yet have… and of giving away every part of me before I have to leave the pieces behind. That’s going to hurt.
But nothing—nothing—will make me turn away from what will happen after the boring, billionaire party. If heart-wrenching agony is the price for fucking Alain D’Ange, then I’ll just have to bear it.
When I descend the elaborate floating staircase, it’s to find many of the guests already arrived. Alain stands to the side, his makeup in place, looking completely human, albeit with a slight hump on his back. All the butterflies swiftly flutter around inside me as I wait for him to notice me.
And when he looks up, his gaze stutters, his mouth gapes, and his eyes blow wide. Gratified, I take the rest of the stairs, and when I reach the bottom, three men I’ve never met race to greet me.
Alain plows right through them. They go tumbling, but he doesn’t even cast them a glance. His eyes are glued to me. “What are you wearing, little girl?” he growls, before shrugging out of his black tuxedo jacket.
I guess it’s instinct that makes him throw it around me, but when he does, the shape of his crushed wings become clearly visible beneath his white silk shirt. I quickly step down to the ground floor and rotate him so my back faces the guests.
“Your wings,” I hiss under my breath.
“Why are you wearing the nightgown I picked out for you for later? Are you trying to put on a show? Is exhibition your thing?” He throws out sentences through gritted teeth, his eyes burning with barely suppressed rage.
Or outrage. “Or are you picking out your next conquest before I’ve even fucked you? ”
It takes a good few seconds for me to understand what he’s saying. I guess that explains why he didn’t also lay out undergarments. He expected me to wear this nightgown for him. Later. Alone.
“Oh. Oh, no.” My eyes seek him again. “I thought you picked out this dress for the party. You said…”
“Your dress is hanging on your closet door. This nightgown is for our private party.” His jaw works from side to side as he grinds those sharp teeth, but he flicks his gaze behind me. “We’ve attracted enough attention.” His hand raises.
In response, Jean-Luc plunges through the crowd and hands Alain his uniform jacket. “Put this on, boss.”
Alain doesn’t bother addressing the gaping crowd after throwing on the poly-blend security tuxedo jacket.
He just picks me up in his arms and runs me up the stairs.
In less than a second, we’re at the top and disappearing down the hallway.
But to my surprise, he passes right by my room and heads straight for his.
I wind my arms around the back of his neck and nuzzle into the small space above his shoulder. “You missed my room.”
He growls at me.