K. R. Treadway
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Blood and Lace: Chapter 10
🕑 Added 2024-02-11 16:52:28 +0000 UTC
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Nicholas tossed the brochure onto the coffee table with a groan. Had Ricky organized these things from least to most boring? He eyed the last three brochures dubiously. The final one was probably lethal. He glanced at his phone, facedown on the table, then carefully levered himself upright to avoid stabbing back pain.
He filled a cup with water at the kitchen sink, glowering at nothing. It was no use. The brochures had been even worse than the WHIRLWIND REAP plans. His attention refused to stay on anything. He would start a sentence and just drift away. And when he tried to force it the words turned to gibberish.
There was a security breach in their Guild cell, possibly a major one, and all Nicholas had managed to do was haphazardly read some preliminary notes. The rest of the day had been spent stalking around the apartment, angrily chastising himself for not focusing, and checking the time on his phone every few minutes.
He’d tried to stop, but it had only gotten worse over the course of the day. Now, with the O’Donnell material failing to offer the slightest distraction, his only choice had been to either get up…or check his phone yet again.
Nicholas swore and set the cup down. “I'm not even thirsty.”
Slowly, almost unwillingly, he turned to look at the microwave clock. 6:17. It was now less than half-an-hour until sunset. The thought sent a giddy thrill through him, followed by a surge of shame.
He set his hands on the counter and stared into the cup. The water trembled each time he exhaled. When it stilled he could see his face reflected in it. His expression looked tired. He sighed and the image broke apart.
Would Della come back?
He already knew the answer. It was absurd to keep tumbling the question around his head. She had barely tolerated his presence. It was clear that their…whatever the hell it was…was destined to be short-lived. Not to mention one-sided.
Nicholas set a finger gently against the side of the cup, then impulsively flipped it into the sink. It hit the bottom with a satisfying thud and water splattered everywhere. He rubbed his eyes.
“You always do this,” he muttered. “Always seeing something that isn’t there. So fucking eager to think the world is more than it appears.”
She wasn’t coming back.
Which was good, right? Even if she did, there would be nothing in it save a tenuous association. That would almost make it worse. Her staring at him while his heart pounded, knowing she could hear it. No…Della was gone, and the aftermath—his roiling gut, the ridiculous snatches of daydream, everything else that felt like a prelude to insanity—would be gone too. Eventually.
“She’s a vampire, for God’s sake. A fucking leech. She’ll stay away and I’ll count my blessings.” Nicholas took a deep, centering breath and let it out. Okay. Better. He glanced at the microwave. 6:23.
There was a knock at the door.
The electricity that suddenly trembled along his limbs came to an abrupt end when he noticed the murky blue light behind the kitchen blinds. Twilight. It was too early. The anticipation immediately turned to unease.
Nicholas cautiously moved to the front door. He checked that the gym bag he’d placed was still hiding the hole Della’s fist had made. See? There's the proof that she’s dangerous. Maybe not a monster, but still a predator. You were lucky to escape with your life. The knock came again, bringing his attention back to the door. He looked through the peephole.
Oh no.
Nicholas stood back, swallowed, then quickly pushed one hand through his hair. The other he placed on the knob. He hesitated. His instincts were opposed, but the nervous energy coursing through him had a mind of its own. It craved distraction. Stimulation.
Connection.
He tugged open the door before good sense prevailed.
“Hi, Nick.”
Jessie stood in the corridor. She cocked her head and regarded him with a smile that could only be described as “sultry.” She looked incredible. Her auburn hair was teased into a messy bun with a few strategic locks brushing her face. Instead of work attire, she was wearing a short black T-shirt dress and a pair of strappy heels. A few glittery bracelets drew his attention, encouraging his eyes to linger on the sun-kissed skin of her exposed arms. He noticed she was holding a wine bottle.
“Jessie. You look…great.” He shook his head. “And, uh, God you must be cold.”
“I know. I should have worn a jacket.” She gave a throaty giggle that raised Nicholas’s blood pressure five points. “But it was a short walk from the parking lot, so I took a chance that you wouldn’t turn me away. Besides…” She held up the bottle. “…I come bearing gifts.”
Nicholas gave an approximation of a laugh and stood aside to let her enter. Beneath his bemused smile his head was whirling. This was surreal. Jessie was in his apartment again. He could feel his heart slamming against his ribcage, but it wasn’t entirely pleasant. The restlessness coursing through him was taking on a ragged urgency, gaining a momentum that was sweeping him along with it.
Jessie spun around and faced him with her mouth quirked. “It looks exactly how I remembered it.”
He shrugged. “It’s only been a couple of months.”
“It seems longer.” She bit her lip and looked at him. Ten more IQ points headed south. What the hell was happening? Had she forgotten everything they'd talked about?
Nicholas frowned and reached to take the bottle as she held it out. He set it on the counter, trying to use the few extra seconds to coax his brain back into action. “Jessie…it’s been good seeing you. Both yesterday and today.” That was true enough, particularly in that dress. “But I don’t understand…”
“Why I’m here?” she offered.
“Yeah,” he said, “that.”
She shrugged. “I’ve missed you. Guess I didn’t realize how much until I saw you yesterday.” She took a step closer, close enough to have to look up into his eyes.
“I see.” It was the only thing he could think to say.
“Do you?” Jessie casually crossed her arms. The movement squeezed her breasts together, pushed them up. It was no doubt a calculated move, but it still made Nicholas draw in a sharp breath. “I meant what I said, Nick. I want to help you…celebrate your promotion.”
His body was already lining up to join the party. Nicholas took a step back, baffled and conflicted. “Jessie…we, uh, talked about this. It wouldn’t work, remember?”
Her lips curved in a knowing smile. “I remember it working pretty well.”
Nicholas straightened, feeling a twinge of irritation. “I won’t deny that part was great. But we can’t—“
Jessie took a quick step. There were only a few inches between them now. “Which part was great, Nick?” She reached out to trail a finger along his chest, her finger barely grazing his shirt. It was like she was wielding a flame, trying to set him ablaze. Her finger kept moving lower…across his abdomen…lower…until it grazed the button of his jeans. “I think I remember which part.” she whispered, her own breath coming quicker.
He grabbed her wrist and backed up again, bumping into the counter. There was no room left to retreat, but he wasn't even sure he wanted to. Jessie had always been so good at this. She would brush his protests aside with a smile, kiss his lips until he stopped talking, use her fingers, her mouth, her body to silence all dissent. The echoes of frustration from those times were all that enabled him to retain a shred of control now.
“Jessie,” Nicholas said, his voice harsh with rising desire, “nothing’s changed for me. I’m still looking for a lot more than convenient sex.”
She gave a growl of frustration and tossed her hair. Her face was flushed. “I'm a hunter, Nick. Now you are too. Our life expectancy sucks, and you know it. I’m trying to enjoy myself while I'm here. What we have—what we've felt—that’s real. ’Relationship’ is just a word. An empty promise.”
“Not to me,” Nicholas countered.
Jessie shook her head, a self-deprecating smile on her face. “God, you’re so corny.” Then she met Nicholas's eyes. An altogether different smile emerged, amused and wanton. “But sometimes even a girl like me can be tempted by schmaltz. You are sweet, and you have an ass to die for, so I’ll tell you what…”
She crossed her hands and gripped the hem of her dress. Nicholas’s mouth went dry as she began lifting it. He couldn't help but watch the black fabric rise, exposing shapely thighs, black silk panties, and perfectly curved hips leading into a taut stomach. In one fluid motion Jessie flung the dress away. Her generous breasts strained against a matching bra, cut low enough to reveal a hint of areolae.
She raised one corner of her mouth in challenge, resting a hand on her hip. Her body practically glowed with vitality, golden and beckoning like some mythical sex goddess. “How about we…sleep on it? Then in the morning we’ll have one of those ‘big talks’ you love so much. I'm thinking maybe you can convince me to make this official.”
Without waiting for a reply—which Nicholas was struggling to provide—she disappeared down the hall, hips swaying like a snake charmer’s flute.
She’s in my bedroom. Almost naked. Nicholas groaned and brought a trembling hand to his forehead.
In all of his confusion, Jessie’s offer of uncomplicated sex shone like a lighthouse beam. He could picture it so clearly, her arms wrapped around him, moving inside her with animal urgency, her gasps and moans driving him to the edge of control and beyond. He knew it would be good; the sex always was with her.
Nicholas had to adjust himself before he followed after her. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea…exactly. Maybe she could provide the perspective he needed. Jessie was warm and vibrant. A fellow hunter—a human—who was obviously attracted to him. It was like the universe was sending him a message. Get real. Grow up.
The bedroom doorway was dark. He took a deep breath. Just let it happen. Saving Della was a good thing, but it's done. His memories of her, their sharp cutting edges, would soften in time. This would help. He set his hands briefly on the door frame, then stepped in.
Jessie was a half-glimpsed shape whose enticing curves were gilded by the light from the hall. He sensed her presence—warm and inviting—coming close. Then her hands gripped his shoulders and she pulled herself into him. Her breasts flattened against his T-shirt. He could feel her nipples pressing into his chest. Her breath was warm on his face.
You’ll forget. It’s better this way.
She grabbed Nicholas around the neck and tugged him into a long kiss. Her tongue licked playfully along his lips, a conduit of her heat and passion funneling into him, warming him until he opened his mouth and sought her tongue with his.
He set his hands on her hips and Jessie arched until her pelvis made contact with his arousal. She made a sound of delight at the back of her throat and pulled him towards the bed.
Better this way. The moments with Della will fade…already fading.
Jessie fell onto the spread and he could see the light briefly reflect off of smiling lips. He leaned in, hands on either side of her head, and resumed kissing her with an almost desperate intensity. He pressed himself into the juncture between her thighs and she wrapped her legs around him. Her hands were already reaching out, undoing the top button of his pants.
Pale blue eyes, magnetic and powerful. And lonely.
He hadn’t imagined that. Della was alone. Hurting. He’d seen the heart-stopping vulnerability in those imperious glances—there and gone like a hidden facet inside a precious stone. And he had wanted to protect it, shelter the spark of light she carried…shelter her.
The moment turned. Suddenly the rising tide of lust could no longer mask the truth: this was nothing but a desperate ploy to fight the fear and uncertainty that had plagued him since the raid. He was using Jessie for a pathetic kind of reassurance. It didn’t matter if she cared or not, it wasn’t fair to her.
But that wasn’t his worst sin. Even if he and Della never stood a chance, even if she never came back, this was still a betrayal. By seeking comfort tonight he was dismissing his complicated feelings towards Della—whether or not they were reciprocated. It felt like he was betraying himself and her. Guilt surged through him like a fever.
“Nick?”
He had pulled away, breathing raggedly. His arms were trembling.
“What is it?” Jessie’s hand came to touch his cheek and he jerked his face away. He tried to straighten and cried out as his back flared in warning.
Goddamn it…serves me right.
Gritting his teeth, he managed to push himself over with an awkward roll and flopped down beside Jessie with an undignified groan. “I’m sorry, Jessie…I can’t do this.”
She sat up, confusion in her tone. “Is it your back?”
“Yes.” He cursed under his breath. “I mean, no. It’s not that.”
He felt her stiffen. She shifted and put a few inches between them. “What’s going on?” The words were wary, less sympathetic than before.
“Jessie, I…sort of met someone.”
The silence from Jessie was absolute. It would have been better if she had said something accusatory or immediately started an argument. Instead the seconds stretched on until he could almost hear her thinking.
“Who is it?” she said at last.
“You don’t know her. She’s not from work.”
Another pause. “And you’re fucking her?” Jessie’s tone was flat.
Nicholas blinked. “No.” He uttered a short surprised laugh. “Not even close.”
“But you’re…exclusive?”
He shook his head, and she blew out an exasperated sigh.
“Then what the hell is…” She trailed off abruptly. The quiet came roaring back. He turned to her in the dark. She was nodding slightly, as if to herself. Slowly she brought up her hands and clutched them to her chest. “You’re not exclusive…but you want to be.”
“Yeah,” Nicholas said, barely above a whisper.
He didn’t know what emotions Jessie had heard in that single exhalation, but suddenly she was shifting herself to the bed’s edge. When she spoke again there was anger—and hurt—in the clipped words. “You might have mentioned it, Nick.”
“I haven’t known her very long. I didn’t want to say anything. She…might not feel the same.” She doesn't. He sat up on his elbow, ignoring his back’s protest. “I’m really sorry. I tried to put the brakes on—”
“You should have tried a lot damn harder.” She stormed out the bedroom.
Nicholas rolled onto his side and managed to leverage himself upright. “I know,” he called after her, “but let’s be honest, you don’t always make that so easy.” He staggered out into the hall and stopped on the threshold to the living room. Jessie was already shimmying back into her dress, so unintentionally provocative that Nicholas stared down at the floor.
“It’s fine.” Her words, muffled behind the cloth, had a forced casualness. “I get it. You didn’t want to screw. But you should have mentioned you were seeing someone.”
“I was surprised when you showed up. Then things started happening and…” He sighed. “…and explanations aren't excuses. You’re right. I should have said something right away.”
“You can look. I’m decent.”
He glanced at her. She was flushed, staring at him with sullen hostility. For the first time, Nicholas wondered if she regretted the way they’d ended things. Had she really been interested in trying for something deeper? If so, it was too late and now she knew it. He felt a tug of sympathy. “I’m sorry for making this awkward and hurtful.”
Jessie shrugged and looked away. “It’s fine, Nick. The clubs are just opening up, and I’ve got plenty of energy to burn.” She blinked a few times, eyes unfocused, then nodded and turned on her heel.
“Jessie—”
“Save it, Nick. It’s…I get it.” She opened the door. “I hope your unfucked, unexclusive lady friend is as corny as you are.” She didn’t quite slam it shut.
Nicholas let out a shuddering breath and slumped against the wall. It felt like the cracks in his life were widening until the whole thing was ready to shatter. Jessie had invited him back to everything he knew and understood, and he had refused her. He didn’t regret that—he was even relieved—but he had accomplished it in a singularly pathetic way: going along until the last possible moment.
He walked back to the bedroom. His head felt swimmy, like it was adrift on a sea of conflicting thoughts. He wanted to lay down in the dark and let the world forget about him for awhile. Maybe he would be a better person in the morning. Crawling onto the bed, he gingerly lowered himself back against the pillows.
“What am I doing?” he murmured to the ceiling. “Is it obsession? Post-traumatic stress? She’s not your friend. She’s the enemy.” He closed his eyes. “A beautiful soulful enemy who I can't stop thinking about.” A humorless laugh escaped him. “Hey Mom, what’s our policy on fraternization? See, I’m falling for a vampire—”
“Nicholas. Stop.”
The voice was muffled but absolutely familiar. Nicholas jerked his head up in profound shock. The room was empty. His heart began to pound, and the spinning sensation got even worse. Had he imagined it?
This is my first panic attack, he thought. The silence stretched on.
“Della?” he croaked.
“Yes.”
Definitely my first panic attack. “Where are you?”
“I’m…below you. Under the bed.”
