Jess Haines - Stalking the Others

As for Royce, he barely paid the stakes a glance once they joined the guns on the floor. His hands briskly swept over the rest of my body, checking for any weapons hidden under my armor, too quick for me to be terribly indignant about it. I cursed under my breath when he found my last remaining weapon, the small knife tucked into my boot.

My heart was beating fast, too fast. Being pressed between the two men was eerily reminiscent of when Royce and Max had had me pinned between them, bargaining for my freedom.

“Give her to me.”

Wesley nudged me so hard I stumbled. Before I knew it, I was over Royce’s shoulder, my hair dangling in my face and his collarbone digging into my stomach. Off-balance and gasping for air, I flailed briefly, then clutched at his jacket, wrinkling the expensive suit. Then moved my hand when I realized I was grabbing his butt. Eek!

“Take those with you and put them somewhere safe.” There was a rustle of leather and jangle of metal as Royce toed my discarded weapons. “I don’t wish to be disturbed during the day. Field anything that requires immediate attention to Angus or Jessica.”

“Yes, sir,” Wesley said.

I gave a breathy yelp of protest as Royce turned around, with me still slung over his shoulder, and stomped toward his bedroom, leaving me to stare longingly after the weapons the other vampire was gathering from the floor. Royce soon cut off my view by kicking his bedroom door shut behind him. The only illumination came from tiny, twinkling lights in the ceiling. They bathed the room in gentle light, but made for deeper, more threatening shadows in the recesses. There were no windows or other means of escape, either, unless I could barricade myself in his (from my recollection, windowless) bathroom until he died for the day, or whatever it was vampires did when they weren’t stalking the night.

It was clear there was nowhere to run. The only way out was the way we’d just come in.

Before long I was back on my feet, nearly spilling to my knees at the wave of dizziness that washed over me. Royce barely paid any mind, his fingers quick and sure as they closed on the hem of my shirt. I gave him a bit of trouble once he pulled at it, yelping in fear and protest as he yanked the body armor up. He did it so swiftly that I didn’t have time to tense against it. He ignored my squirming and my muffled curses, though he laughed when my rapid retreat backward as my head and arms popped out ended with me sprawled on my ass on his futon. The hardwood floors might have provided a softer landing. Yeowch!

Blushing furiously, I covered my chest with both arms, mortified at this treatment. Thank God I’d thought to put on a sports bra under the armor, the stretchy fabric covering more than the lacy numbers I used to wear for Chaz’s benefit. It did nothing to hide the myriad scars on my stomach, though.

Still chuckling, he shucked off his own jacket, letting it pool on the floor behind him, and stepped out of his shoes.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He gave me a look I didn’t like at all. “Something I should have done a long time ago.”

I gasped and kicked at him when he knelt down in front of me, only to have one hand latch firmly around my ankle, the other working the laces to my boot.

“Royce, stop it!”

“Not yet.”

“Stop!”

He ignored my command, tugging off my shoe and dropping it with a heavy clunk to the side. Though I fought to pull out of his grasp, he made little work of divesting me of the other boot, then hooked his fingers in the waistband of my armored pants. My struggling only made it easier for him to tug those down. My underwear would’ve gone with them if I hadn’t made a grab for the elastic band at the last second. I took advantage of the few sparse seconds I was free of his hold to scramble back on the futon, intending to make a run for it.

Before I got very far, his hand shot out, circling my ankle again like a cold vise. He pulled me to him as he crept up on the sheets, the smooth, predatory way he moved reminding me of a panther.

Gone was any sense of stupid bravery and invincibility. In its place was nothing short of raw panic as the realization set in that, this time, he wasn’t stopping. This went far above and beyond any scare tactics he’d used with me before. I had no weapons, no armor, and no hope of escape. He’d dragged me into his bedroom. I was nearly naked on his bed. And he was well on his way to having me pinned beneath him.

That could only lead to one thing.

Though I knew it was useless, I cried out in terror, forgetting about modesty as I threw my hands up to shield my neck and face as he settled over me. For a moment, I had an irreverent thought that the least the bastard could have done was remove that freaking tie tack that was now digging into my stomach before putting his weight on me.

Though he was gentle about it, he ignored my tears and my breathless pleas for him to stop as he tugged my hands away from my throat.

“Don’t—” he ordered, gently taking my wrists and pulling my hands from their protective position to pin them over my head. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

“Please,” I cried, tugging fruitlessly at his iron-clad grip. “Please, Royce, I don’t want to do this—”

“Hush. I’m not letting you out of my sight until I’m certain you won’t do something more to hurt yourself. Gods, just look at you ... You and I are going to have a long overdue talk.”

I quieted, but turned my face away, hating the blushes and bruising that I knew reddened every inch of my normally ghost-pale skin from hairline to navel. He was staring down at me, but had stilled, watching me as I fought not to have a breakdown, still squirming and tugging at his hold in hopes of getting free.

A deep sigh escaped him, and he released my wrists. I pressed my hands to his chest, pushing at him, but he didn’t give, remaining a stolid wall of cold marble trapping me beneath him. He leaned in, his cheek brushing against mine, satin-soft strands of coal black hair drifting across my skin as he whispered oh-so-sweetly in my ear.

“Your struggling makes it more tempting to bite you, not less. Relax.”

I withdrew my hands from his chest with a gasp, and satisfied myself with shivering uncontrollably as I clutched the bedding at my sides as though it could protect or hide me from this blood-drinking predator looming over me.

Though it was a marginal improvement when he withdrew from my ear, I flinched when his jaw brushed against mine. He kissed away the tears staining my cheeks, the touch of his tongue like the gentle flicker of an ice cube pressed to my skin. It only made the tears fall faster.

“Shiarra, I’ve told you before. I’ll never hurt you. I don’t give my word lightly; you know that. What are you so afraid of?”

“Please don’t bite me,” I whispered.

He paused, unmoving, not speaking. I didn’t dare open my eyes to look at him, to see what thoughts might be passing through those black eyes. It took a moment for him to reply, a thoughtful “hmm” that vibrated against my hypersensitive skin.

“Shiarra, look at me. No tricks, no games. On my honor.”

I was slow to comply, but he waited patiently until I was squinting up at him through tear-soaked lashes. I could see plainly he was now quite serious and thoughtful. His trademark smirk was nowhere in evidence, and I felt no sense of compulsion behind his words, despite the unwise eye contact we were making.

“Your tears are sweet, and under other circumstances, I might well have enjoyed them—but you and your partner are under my protection. Do you understand what that means? I’ve pledged to keep you safe. I won’t allow you to run off on your own again until I am assured you are no danger to yourself or others. And while I would like nothing more than to taste your warmth, sink inside you, and make you mine in every way you deny me, I’m not about to hurt you or claim you against your will. It would be a poor way to repay you for saving my life only to take yours from you.”