Chapter Ten
Hey man, wanna get a drink
thursday? Im buying
Theo read and reread the message, searching for the hidden meaning. For the catch. There was always a catch.
Elliot Wysall, like most of Theo’s friends, disappeared from his life decades ago, right after he stopped attending SubRosa.
He had met the businessman before the club even existed.
Before Havenshire and the Unveiling. Friends for centuries.
But suddenly the freedoms Elliot found on that bloodstained dance floor were more important than their friendship.
Suddenly, all of his friends were too busy for him.
The decision to avoid the club had done him no favours. Quite the opposite. Not only had it damaged almost every relationship he had, but thirty years later, and he was still fighting to maintain his career.
He looked around his office, unchanged in half a century at least. The bold and dynamic politician, once on the rise, left to stagnate in a dead-end position.
Festering. Forgotten. Irrelevant.
Verity had asked him what he liked about it, why he wanted to work in politics. It almost surprised him to remember that he hadn’t wanted it, the Roses had, and back then he didn’t know how to say no. Now, he didn’t know what else to do. Didn’t know what the point of him was outside of his office.
But Verity had asked. Verity had cared. Listened to his stories and anecdotes, big green eyes on his as she took in every word. Every breath.
The only thing that mattered right now was Verity. He needed to keep her safe, and to do that friends would help. Even if those friends had evaporated when it no longer suited them.
“She’s here,” came Stella’s sing-song voice from the intercom.
“Send her in.”
He stood, stretching before heading for the door.
The flowers had shaken her, far more than she’d admit. He heard the tremor when she called him. The way her voice pitched when she said Abe knew where she lived. Had spoken to her mother.
When it came to her own safety, Verity was reckless to a fault, but the fact that her mother had been dragged into it hit her hard.
Theo had texted her yesterday, trying to check on her without being overbearing, but overbearing was his default setting.
Something that had driven away more than a few lovers.
Not that Verity was a lover.
He opened the door right as she reached for the handle, making her stumble over the threshold. The glare on her face made him smile. Not a scared little mouse just yet.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he called to Stella, who saluted at her dismissal. They might not be getting up to anything scandalous, but he’d still rather not be disturbed.
By the time he closed the door, Verity had already poured them both water and taken her usual seat. The routine might soothe her but perhaps water wouldn’t cut it after the weekend they’d had.
“Fancy something a little stronger?” he asked, finding a decanter of whiskey from a bookshelf and a couple of glasses.
“Thought I wasn’t supposed to drink before donating?” Her brow arched as he took his seat opposite her, knees just wide enough to trap her without touching.
“But… I thought you liked breaking the rules?” he teased.
The corner of her mouth twitched beneath her frown and Theo lived for that whisper of a smirk.
“I don’t remember breaking any rules,” she said, taking the glass and sniffing the contents.
Phoenar save him, she should have been the politician with her technicalities and loopholes. Wicked creature.
“So,” he said, “any plans for Thursday?”
Her nose scrunched when the whiskey touched her lips, the sweetest blush spreading across her cheeks.
“Not unless you’re about to tell me otherwise,” she said.
“It would seem that an old friend caught wind of me visiting the club and invited us out for a drink.”
“Both of us?” she asked, taking another minute sip before setting the glass on his desk.
“I think it’s assumed that I’d take you. If we have to go to the club, might as well have an excuse.”
She mused for a moment, chewing her lip before nodding. “What should I wear? Not sure I dressed revealing enough, considering what everyone else was wearing.”
Theo bristled. “No. You were perfect.”
The steady thrum of her heart picked up at the compliment, but it was true.
She had looked beautiful. Hem not too short, neckline not too low.
The dress had hugged her curves making it hard to keep his hands off her.
Enough eyes had watched her as it was, that den of vipers didn’t need any more of an excuse to ogle what was his.
Because in there, she was his. His human. His to ogle, touch, and enjoy. His to protect, and the pressure of that almost outweighed the treacherous kernel of excitement he felt at the idea of taking her back.
He didn’t want to go to the club, but if he had to, then going with Verity would make it more than bearable.
“Well, I suppose a new dress wouldn’t hurt,” she said, offering her hand.
He took it, massaging the warm skin. Working the pressure points helped with blood flow, but not nearly enough to justify how long he took. Not that she needed to know that.
“Take my card. Get whatever you want.” Thumbs gliding out her palm, he pressed hard enough to feel her heart sing to him. Waiting for his bite.
“That’s not necessary,” she said, turning to the window. “I can pay my way.”
“I know, but I am the one inviting you…”
“Not your friend?”
She treated him to one of her little side-eyed smirks.
“I am inviting you,” he repeated. “And it would probably help the image too.”
She rolled her eyes but nodded. “Fine, but I’m treating myself.”
“I’d expect no less.”
It was only then that it struck him. The scent that was slowly driving him mad.
He looked down, watching the blood move through her veins and taking a deep draw of the lust-kissed air. It whispered to him. To the primal creature that begged him to pin her to his desk, spread her legs and find out just how hot her blood could run.
“Ungentlemanly,” Verity sang, as if reading his mind. His eyes snapped to hers, and that fucking smirk, and he swallowed the low rumble building in his chest.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Hungry.”
Wasting no more time, he raised her flesh to his mouth.
“Best get to it then,” she said, eyes on the window.
It took every ounce of his self-restraint not to snarl when his teeth touched her skin.
His complete concentration to stay quiet and still, as her soft flesh gave way and the first drop of Verity touched his tongue.
And all the strength Phoenar could give him to stay in his seat when a stifled whimper escaped her lips and the perfume of her arousal intensified.
Humans getting turned on during donation was nothing new. In fact, it was the reason places like SubRosa thrived. The intimacy. The burst of pain. The danger. Some humans loved it.
Verity loved it, and Theo loved that Verity loved it.
Her sweet taste filled his mouth as he started to drink, counting the seconds of each slow pull. Ignoring the way her thighs tensed and moved. How easy it would be to slip his hand up her skirt, give her something to move against.
She cleared her throat and Theo pushed down another growl. Ungentlemanly indeed.
He distracted himself by thinking about work, about the Ostara festival the town was planning.
About the spring budget and all of the projects that weren’t going to make the cut.
The people he’d have to disappoint. About Harris, and his constant pestering and demands about falling donor numbers.
The reports showed recruitment remained steady, so why Harris was in such a panic Theo couldn’t fathom.
To call it over reacting was an understatement.
The moment his hunger dulled Theo pulled back and sealed the wound, licking only slightly longer than necessary.
“Sooo…” Verity pulled down her sleeve and offered a pink cheeked smile. “Am I supposed to hang around here for a while. Make everyone think we’re… copulating.”
“Copulating?” He snorted, taking a swig of whiskey, the smoky flavours mingling with the remnants of Verity.
“You know what I mean,” she snapped, swatting his knee and standing, putting distance between them.
“It would help, just long enough to be inappropriate.”
“Will anyone even notice?”
“Someone always notices,” he told her. Fresh gossip kept some nosy vampires’ lives interesting. It wouldn’t surprise him if a councillor on the other side of the building already knew he’d dismissed Stella when his donor arrived.
Wandering around his desk, Verity poked at the mess of books and files, watching him. That wicked look crossed her face, and the woman had the audacity to sit in his chair. She set a commanding figure in the padded leather seat, so large it could easily swallow a man twice her size.
“Suits you. Wanna swap jobs?”
Verity laughed. “Yeah, sure. I’ll sit here, looking all important and sexy, and when I get hungry, I’ll come bite you.”
Sexy? Biting? Blushing was not something Theo was accustomed to, but his cheeks heated, nonetheless.
“Sounds perfect,” he laughed.
“What do you even do all night?”
“Well, Madam Mayor, have you ever planned a festival?”