D. Reynolds: Aden

“Sid, Sid,” Dresner said, laughing. “You’ve overthinking this. First, I need to know how serious you are. How far are you willing to go?”

“I’ll do what it takes,” Sid said determinedly.

“All right, then. You need to go all in and dress for seduction. You have to understand that the only thing most vampires want or need from humans is blood. And that’s doubly true for the really powerful ones, many of whom are so distanced from their human roots that they barely see us as sentient anymore.”

Sid groaned.

“I did warn you about what might be necessary when you first set out on this path.”

“I know,” Sid sighed. “And don’t worry. I’ll do what it takes. I might hate it, but I’ll do it.”

“That’s the spirit. I’m sorry, Sid, but if there’s nothing else, my feet are killing me, and there’s a hot bath calling my name.”

“Oh, of course. Thank you so much for calling back and for the advice. I really do appreciate your time.”

“I don’t mind at all. This is one of the more interesting things I’ve done lately. Academics isn’t all excitement and adventure, you know.”

Sid laughed dutifully, though she had no idea what the woman meant by that. Was she suggesting that academics sometimes was exciting? That didn’t seem likely, especially in sociology, but it took all kinds, she supposed.

“Okay,” Sid said, avoiding the whole excitement issue. “Enjoy your bath, and I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

She tossed the phone onto the bed, then turned to face the reality staring back at her from the mirror. Was her outfit sexy enough? Damn. She stepped out of her heels and unzipped the wool slacks, then stomped over to her closet, thinking all the while that she must be certifiable. It was fucking freezing outside, and here she was trading in her tights and wool slacks for silk stockings and a skirt.

She cursed as she smoothed the tight skirt over her hips, wishing her target could have been anyone but a vampire. She had to admit that the skirt looked better, though. And, in any other context, the sweater would have been considered modest. There was no cleavage. It was only her neck that was on full display. But then she was seducing a vampire, and if she wanted Aden’s cooperation, she was going to have to play his game. Hadn’t she just told Dresner that she’d do whatever it took to get revenge for Janey’s death? Well, whatever it took had just become the necessity of flashing some skin.

And if it also meant letting Aden take a bite, as it almost certainly would?

She ignored the thrill of excitement that thought generated, telling herself that her nipples were peaking because there was a cold draft in the room. This was Chicago, after all, and the wind was a nearly constant buffeting against the windows.

“All right, that’s it,” she told her reflection. “Buck up, Sid.”

But she still felt better once she’d pulled on her long, wool coat along with a warm scarf. Maybe it would be cold in Aden’s office. Maybe she’d have an excuse to keep the scarf on.

“SIDONIE REID IS here, my lord.”

Aden swung the chair around from his contemplation of the Chicago skyline and met Bastien’s amused expression.

“She’s wearing a scarf,” Bastien explained.

“Show her in,” Aden said. “And, Bastien,” he added before his lieutenant could open the door. “Turn up the heat.”

He grinned. “Right away, my lord.”

Aden leaned back, not bothering to get up when Sidonie marched into his office. And that’s what she did. She marched , determination furrowing her brow and tightening her full lips into a pinched pout. Did she realize that her resolve to resist his seduction only made her that much more irresistible? That her very defiance was a blatant challenge to his dominance as an apex predator? He smirked privately, thinking of the many ways he could deal with her deliberate provocation, and he would deal with it. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t play with her first.

“Ms. Reid,” he said lazily, “you’re late.”

She blinked in surprise, and he wondered if she’d expected him to pounce on her the minute she walked through the door.

“It . . . I couldn’t get a taxi, and it was too cold to walk. I had to wait—”

“You should have called. I would have sent my car.”

Her pouty lips opened in a silent oh before she visibly gathered her wits and came closer to his desk. She surprised him by unwinding her scarf and shouldering out of her winter coat. So he surprised her in turn, using his vampire speed to get behind her and play the gentleman by helping her with the coat, then tossing it over the couch against the far wall.

She gasped in startlement, giving him a surprised look over her shoulder. A look that quickly reverted to irritation when she saw Aden’s satisfied smile. But his smile only grew broader when he saw the elegant line of pale skin bared by the swooping neckline of her sweater.

Well played, Ms. Reid, he thought to himself. Well played, indeed.

“That’s a lovely sweater,” he commented, enjoying the flush of color the compliment brought to her cheeks. With skin like that, she’d be hard-pressed to conceal her emotions. Not that he needed visible proof of such things. Her fluttering pulse and pounding heart, her delightful scent, told him much more than her blush. But he appreciated the beauty of it all the same.

“Thank you,” she said, showing the first sign of real nerves since she’d walked into the room. She eyed the chairs in front of his desk, but clearly didn’t know if she should simply sit down or ask if he minded first.

Not wanting the desk between them, Aden walked over and gestured at the flat expanse of window where the Chicago skyline was now decorated by a few fitful flakes of snow being tossed wildly in the ever-present wind. “Do you live in Chicago, Ms. Reid?” He knew she was staying here, but didn’t know if she considered this home, and he wanted to hear what she’d say.

“Call me Sidonie,” she responded politely, coming to stand next to him by the window. “My family home is in the distant suburbs. So distant, it barely qualifies as such, but I’ve been living in the city for nearly a year while I research my latest story. But you probably know all of that.”

Aden dipped his head in acknowledgment. “True, but you’re a reporter, so you understand the polite fiction of pretending you haven’t already investigated someone you’re meeting for the first time.”

She glanced over and gave him a half smile. The first real smile he’d gotten from her. “Touché,” she said. “But you know far more about me than I do about you. You’re a difficult man to vet, Lord Aden.”

“Not a lord yet, Sidonie.”

“No?”

He turned and gave her a patient look. “I did mention that Travis belonged to me? I’m quite certain he’s explained the process to you. Because I told him to.”

Her blue eyes widened. “You knew all along who I was?”

“Travis suspected something was up. You’re not exactly the blood groupie type, and he’s far smarter than he sometimes chooses to seem.”

“Why let him invite me to the big shindig then?”

Aden shrugged. “You were very determined, and I was curious. What is it you really want, Sidonie?” He reached out to trace one finger along the delicate curve of her collarbone, leaning close enough to draw in the sweet bouquet of her blood. She shivered, and he scented her fear. She was excited, too, by him, or maybe simply by the thought of having a vampire drink from her. But there was fear there. And that was far more arousing to him than any sexual curiosity.

Still, it wouldn’t do to play into her desires. This wasn’t a blood bar, and he wasn’t some lust-driven idiot on a blood-drunk.