T. Grey: Wicked Surrender

For the first time since they started this trip, she realized that Jackson Marsh might be more dangerous than she thought. Rome did trust him or used to anyways. She cringed to think how badly Jacks had fucked up. He strayed from his duty when his friend needed him the most. Everyone messed up, it was impossible not to in life. That was one lesson she’d learned a long time ago, but to mess up on such a serious scale—the torture of his friend’s mate—was catastrophic especially to a lykaen.

“Here you are. You’ll be staying in the Diana Sascha Suite.” She was familiar with the suite so aptly named after his father’s nickname for Dmetri’s mother. It was also where they’d first made love. Christ, as if she really needed the reminder? He was just doing it on purpose. She’d been done with Dmetri for years. She had the urge to tell him that to his face but bit her tongue.

“If you need anything at all just ring for me or Henry. Our numbers are the same.” He caught Vera’s arm as she started into the room. “I’d like to have a word with you.” Vera stifled a sigh; she so didn’t want one with him. Seeing that past flung right back in her face wasn’t something she enjoyed.

Turning towards him, she plastered a cool smile on her face. “I’m tired, Dmetri. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”

His brow furrowed but he nodded—thank God for small favors. She oh so politely shut the door in his face. Hey, a woman had to do what she had to do.

When she turned back around Jacks was there invading her space with his big body. The man was lean, cut with muscle, and tall. He easily had to weigh three of her...or maybe ten? She mentally shrugged; she was never good with math. But did he have to tower over her like that? If he wrapped his arms around her, she’d probably lose herself inside him.

She nibbled on her lip and pondered what his chest would feel like under her palms. Hard with the crisp coils of dark hair over his pecks, or would his abs be ripped into hard rolls of muscle, or maybe he was completely smooth of hair leaving only tan skin to lick. Her cheeks heated and she looked away quickly.

“You gonna tell me what all that was about?” Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and shook her head at him.

When she tried to side step him, he only crowded her further. She had only two choices then. Let his body rub over her—and she didn’t think the a/c was on high enough for that—or scoot back against the door like a coward.

She scooted back against the door.

I’m not a coward. I’m not a coward.

When his hand reached to cup the nape of her neck, Vera struggled to breath, fought not to let her eyes flutter shut. The man’s touch was like pure warm electricity burning a through her blood. It warmed her, made her forget all about this room and Dmetri.

“Tell me what’s with you and Dmetri.” He sneered the name with a grimace as if just saying it disgusted him. “Something’s obviously there and I need to know about it.” The angles of his face were drawn into a savage frown.

“Nothing, nothing at all...and it’s not any of your business.”

There, good, she’d added on that last part. Her bravado was quickly slipping though, and when his blue eyes darkened to a color so dark they were almost black, she knew he was going kiss her. Or strangle her.

Surprisingly she was hoping for the first.

He didn’t kiss her.

And he didn’t strangle her.

She was still telling herself she wasn’t disappointed the next morning.

Jacks slept like shit.

Vera barely looked at him and if she did she would plaster on this perfect, polite little smile that made him want to yank her against his body and kiss her until she went soft and warm.

He’d spent most of the night tossing and turning with his dick ranging from rock hard to hard as titanium. He gladly slept on a pallet of covers on the floor but that wasn’t far away enough for him. He could still smell her, could see her asleep up on the bed if he just lifted his head.

But damn if she didn’t act like nothing sparked between them yesterday. The thought of just pulling her close and taking what he wanted was getting better by the second.

His cock stirred to life at the idea, stating that it thought it was a brilliant plan. However, his mind argued that sitting in the middle of a war room surrounded by vampires and one ornery lykaen female was not the ideal place to boast a hard on. Jesus, with his behavior lately it would be no wonder if Vera thought he was some kind of manwhore.

The day he killed his friendship with Rome as surely as though he’d tortured Alison himself, Jacks died a little inside. He never made mistakes like that. He’d been kicking himself over it ever since, but it didn’t matter. No matter what he said or what he did, he couldn’t change the past. Nothing he could do could put him back on his post outside Prince Conlin’s house where he should have been.

He kept his eyes on the war room. There were two vampires and though none of them looked older than he was, he could feel the age in the strange beings. It sounded stupid to say, but it was true.

Fucking vampires, who knew? It was hard to find it too strange when his best friend, or ex best friend, was a lykaen. He’d seen Rome do amazing things. Shit no human could do. His strength, his speed, it was incomparable.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t kick his ass every now and then. He just had to be smarter, anticipate where Rome was going to move and beat him to it with a deflection or a jab.

Vera and the Elders sat at a round stone table together with a bunch of papers in front of them. They were going over land, taxes, and a handful of other boring shit. Vera’s teeth dug and worried her lip until it shone red and a little swollen. His cock pulsed again as he imagined licking that sweet mouth and tasting her. Somehow he just knew it’d be sweet.

She had the kind of mouth a man wanted to dive into and never let up for air. Her hair was short, curving around her chin and moving with each turn of her head, and her straight bangs swept over her forehead, which somehow highlighted brown of her eyes. The color of her hair reminded him of strong, dark coffee. It looked thick and soft. He’d bet it’d feel good around his fist.

Stay focused, man.

Jesus Christ, if he kept this shit up then he’d be right back where he started—fucking up. Instead of watching her, he dragged his gaze away to study the vampires. A deep scowl drew over him as he took note of her ex.

She might not have been able to spill it last night, but he knew enough about women to know that this was an ex. And judging by the devouring way Dmetri, what the fuck kind of name was that anyway, stared at her he knew his guess was spot on. Vera either didn’t notice or pretended not to.

Next was the most imposing man at the table. Something about him radiated strength and power. The man looked like an old warrior, the kind of man who’d felt real chainmail and metal armor over his body as he rode on horseback with a heavy sword. His face carried scars and the wrinkles not of age but of one who lived a hard life. His hair fell shaggily below his ears and was a coppery brown that matched the color of his goatee.

He instantly liked the man; he looked like he could give a shit about his appearance unlike Dmetri whose hair looked practically silky. What the hell kind of a man did that? One without any hair on his balls, he was sure.

Then on the opposite side of the table from Vera was a gorgeous blond woman. Her lips were red, eyes a bright green, and she wore an elaborate dress that fell all the way to the floor. If this is what she wore to go over some papers, what the hell did she wear to go out? A freakin’ ballroom gown?