Page 8

Chapter Eight

BLAKE

S am.”

He doesn’t look at me, instead opening another cabinet and shuffling through the items. “Hey, where’d you store the peanut butter pretzels? I know you’ve got them.”

“I’m out,” I reply, deadpanned.

He laughs. “Nah. I don’t believe that.”

I rub both of my temples. Oh, the Lord is testing me. My twin has been a test since in the womb, I swear. “Sam,” I start again, sighing his name.

Then Malachi is there beside him, a firm hand on my brother’s shoulder. Sam stumbles over his feet as Malachi forcibly turns him to face me, knocking him into the counter.

“Whoa, man, what the fuck!” Sam tries to free himself from Malachi’s easy grip but can’t. His face gets splotchy, obviously getting pissed off. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Get your fucking hands off me.”

“Sam—” Malachi raises a finger with his free hand as if asking for me to wait a moment. I shut up, less because he wants me to and more because I’m surprised at what I’m seeing.

Malachi tilts his head, the charming devil-may-care man who teases and flirts with me is gone. In his place is this cold creature staring down at my brother, as if trying to decide if a creature is worth the effort of killing. My fingers curl as the fear I should have felt earlier trickles into me. Somehow, Sam is still being an idiot. With his free hand, he swings at Malachi. Malachi catches his fist.

Catches. His. Fist. Like he’s in some freaking superhero movie. And he made it look easy.

Finally, Sam starts to realize the situation he’s in and goes still.

“What are you doing in Blake’s house?” Malachi asks, his voice a low rumble of pure authority. I almost open my mouth to answer, my instinct to cover for my brother rising up.

“Because I’m dropping off the money I owe her?” Sam answers as if he isn’t exactly sure.

Malachi pulls Sam an inch or two closer, putting my brother even more off-balance. I should probably feel bad or want to step in, but honestly, it’s almost a relief to let someone else deal with Sam’s crap for once.

“Do you know what time it is?” Malachi continues to question him.

“Uh-uhh—I don’t know? Like midnight or something?”

“It’s 12:07 in the morning.” I look at the clock on the stove, which Malachi has his back to, and holy cow. He’s spot-on. “Do you make it a habit to be incredibly rude and disrespectful to your sister and niece?”

Oh, dammit. I step forward. “Okay, I think that’s enough.”

“Niece?” Sam’s face scrunches up in confusion. Then he lets out a dry laugh. “Oh, her. She’s not my niece. She’s my sister. She’s not actually Blake’s kid.”

His words are like a solid punch to the diaphragm; a rope tied to cement blocks wrapping around my legs. Then air rushes back into my lungs as my fury overwhelms any patience or endurance for shit that I may have had before Sam spoke.

“Get out.”

Sam and Malachi look at me. I refuse to look at Malachi, not wanting to see the pity and judgment. It’s always there when someone finds out. Along with the hundreds of questions that inevitably ruin any potential relationship just like the iceberg and Titanic.

“Seriously?” Sam yanks against Malachi, who lets him go at last. He stares at me like I’m some crazy alien. I take him in, not having seen him since a month ago when he came around asking to borrow money.

We’re twins, but we’re hardly alike. I’m barely over five feet and he’s about six feet tall. Our build is similar, but he’s always looked scrawnier. As he grew up, he never filled out. His hair is a muddy brown, shaggy like he’s a few weeks overdue for a haircut, and it looks like he’s attempting to grow a mustache again. Still with the same little amount of success as the last time. He’s wearing his usual baggy, stained jeans, though it looks like he’s got a new hole in the left knee, and his thin blue zip-up hoodie that he cut thumb-holes in the cuffs. His face, the same shape as mine, is greasy and his brown eyes are red. Honestly, he looks like he needs a shower, a good night’s sleep, and a couple burgers.

And right now, after the day I’ve had, I just couldn’t give less of a fuck.

I point towards the front door, keeping him pinned under my gaze. “Get the hell out of here, Sam. Before I say something I can’t take back.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I don’t need to deal with this bullshit anyways.”

He storms past me, barely avoiding colliding with my shoulder. I turn, following him with my stare to make sure he actually leaves. He’s about to rip open the door in a fit better suited to someone half our age, when Malachi calls out, making him freeze in place.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Sam?”

Sam glares over his shoulder before turning in place and shoving his hand into his back pocket. He pulls out the faded leather wallet he’s had since we were teens and opens it. He doesn’t even look at me as he takes cash out and tosses it onto my foyer table, the bills spreading out. “You want to count it and make sure it’s all there or something?”

It’s clear he’s asking Malachi and not me, but I roll my eyes and step between them. “Do I need to count it?”

Sam finally looks at me again, face twisted in disdain. He shakes his head and turns, opening the front door. He never fails to get in the last word, though. “Your boyfriend is a dick.”

The door rattles as he slams it closed behind him. The house is quiet, save for the hammering of my heart. I can’t look at Malachi right now, not with how mortified I am. I go to the table and collect the assortment of bills, whispering the count as I go through it. When it’s all there, I put it in my wallet and purse. Deciding to not let Malachi see a hint of humiliation, I stand tall as I face him.

“While he may be late on paying me back more often than not, at least he’s never short-changed me.” I’ve used my casual customer service voice, the one that hides a multitude of emotions for waiters all over the world. “Now, you can leave. Like you should have ten minutes ago.”

With Sam gone, the silence is deafening. Malachi hasn’t moved, but the intensity of his gaze is enough to make me feel like a tiny, hunted animal. His scent is thick and overwhelming, the richness of sandalwood and musk wrapping around me and drawing me closer. My skin tingles, my lips part, and every rational thought I’ve ever had flies right out of my head.

My feet move on their own accord, bringing me closer and closer to him. His chest rises and falls, the movement visible as his eyes blaze with a deep red fire. I reach out, unable to stop myself, and press my hand over his heart. It thunders against my palm, matching the tempo of my own.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I whisper.

“No.” He agrees. “I’m not.”

“Why did you come to the bar?”

“You know why.”

“Because you’re attracted to me,” I reply, thinking of how he trapped me against his office door earlier in the day.

“And you’re attracted to me.” Malachi takes a step closer and his hands come up to rest on either side of my waist. “So, where does that leave us?”

“Nowhere.” I grab his wrists but can’t bring myself to push him away. “You’re my boss.”

“Am I?”

I jerk my head back, studying his face. “Unless you’re suddenly rescinding the job offer?”

His mouth lifts into a smirk, the point of a fang peeking out. It draws my eyes. Was it always this long?

“Of course not.” Malachi steps forward and, instinctively, I retreat. When my back hits the wall, my mouth goes dry. Hesitant, I drag my gaze back to his golden ones. The red outline of his pupil is brighter than before. He tilts his head down, bringing our faces close together. “You haven’t signed any paperwork yet. Technically speaking, I won’t be your boss until tomorrow.”

Realization courses through me. Followed by arousal.

“You’re suggesting . . .” I trail off, needing to know exactly what he’s saying. There can’t be any misunderstandings here.

Malachi raises his hand and brushes the back of a knuckle down my cheek. “I don’t do relationships, Blake. One night is my promise. One night of shared pleasure with no expectations come morning. One night to get this attraction sated and out of my system. What do you say?”

The way his voice caresses my name, his touch, and his proximity all conspire against me. My entire body feels overheated, a slow-building tension coiling low in my belly. Arousal throbs between my thighs and, despite my best intentions, I can’t help but ask the question.

“Only one night?”

He nods, his fingers trailing down the side of my neck.

“Just one night.”

I lick my lips and his gaze zeros in on the movement. “We can’t go to my room. It’s next to Charlie’s.”

His expression lights up, almost as if he’s surprised I’m agreeing to this. Hell, *I’m* surprised I’m doing this. Then a hunger so encompassing it steals the air from my lungs reveals itself in him. He braces both forearms on the wall on either side of my head, before dropping his face beside mine, our cheeks nearly touching. It’s as if that narrow space between our flesh is No Man’s Land, waiting for one of us to finally brave the distance to close it.

Malachi practically growls, “Where, then?”

“The living room.”

He waits. So near me but not touching. “You’re sure about this? Say no, and it’ll be like it never happened. You don’t need to worry about your job.”

Filled with an unfamiliar boldness, I grab his suit jacket with one fist and turn my head towards him. I cross the line, closing the space between us as the corner of my lips glance across his skin. “I’m not doing this for my job.”

Malachi moves, shocking an embarrassing meep from me as he scoops me up in his arms. Then his mouth is on mine. He doesn’t kiss me. He consumes me.

This is nothing like the few other times a man has kissed me. I’ve kissed men. They’ve kissed me. But this is an entirely different thing. Malachi takes complete possession, his lips claiming mine as if he’s branding himself into my skin. I’m not just a passive recipient either. My mouth is greedy, matching his demands with each stroke.

Malachi moves through the entry hall, navigating my small home with an ease that surprises me. I’m so caught up in the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands tightening on my hips, and the warmth of his body against mine, I don’t register that we’ve made it to the living room until the soft cushions of the couch press against my back.

I blink, coming back to myself. Malachi towers above me, his eyes a deep crimson ringed with a dark golden brown. The sharp angles of his face are accentuated by the harsh planes cast by the shadows from the streetlight coming through the window and the one table lamp that’s on. He’s a god looking down upon his subject, and I’m completely powerless before him.

I should be afraid.

He’s not human.

I can feel the truth of his words when he’d called himself a predator.

Yet, I’m not. Instead, heat flares to life within me, a raging fire that only he can control.

He drops a knee on the couch, the weight pressing into the cushion beside my hip. His scent surrounds me, overwhelming the artificial sandalwood and spice scent of my candles and the natural lavender and vanilla diffuser. He doesn’t touch me, not yet. But the heat radiating from him is enough to warm me.

His hand, a strong masculine hand I’d noticed from the first moment we’d met, comes up and traces the length of my cheek. He trails his fingertips down my jaw, his touch light, but the effect is electric. I can’t help it, I tremble, my lips parting as a soft breath escapes.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice a rough rumble.

“Not really,” I find myself responding.

His hand stops. His eyes narrow. “Are you arguing with me?”

I lift a shoulder, feeling the awkwardness of being pinned beneath him and not touching him. “No. I’m just . . . never mind.”

His lips pull into a small smile, flashing the barest glimpse of his fangs. Before he can say anything else, I grab the back of his neck and pull him into another kiss. So long as I’m kissing him, I don’t think about how I’ve never actually had sex before with a man.

The few men I’ve been involved with have done . . . things to me, but none of them ever fucked me. I never felt the same desire they did. Other than Charlie, it was one of the usual reasons I never made it past a few dates. Malachi doesn’t date and doesn’t feel like a man who’ll make love. He’s sin personified and stokes a need in me that even my favorite vibrator can’t replicate.

But as I trace the seam of his lips, begging him to open his mouth and allow me in, Malachi grabs my wrist. He doesn’t pull away, though. Instead, he breaks the kiss, nipping at my bottom lip and sending a spike of pleasure straight between my thighs. He keeps his face close, our lips almost touching, and stares down at me.

“In a rush, are we?” he asks, his voice a husky rumble.

“I just want you to fuck me, Malachi.”

At the use of his full name, he shudders. His grip tightens on my wrist before he brings it up over my head. Then, he takes my other one, doing the same. He holds both in one of his hands and reaches down to tease my stomach where my tank has ridden up.

“Is that what you want? For me to fuck you?”

His hand slips under the hem and he cups one breast, his thumb grazing across the tip. Pleasure shoots through me, and a low moan escapes my lips.

“Yes, dammit,” I bite out between clenched teeth and jerk against his hold. How many times does he need me to say it?

“Then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

He presses his free hand against the curve of my lower back, arching my back and pulling me tighter against him.

“But,” his eyes, still the brilliant gold and red, flash. “The first time you cum, it’ll be on my tongue. Not my cock.”

“Wha—?”

My question turns into a yelp as he releases my hands and moves me until I’m sitting up and he’s kneeling in front of me. He grabs the hem of my shorts and tugs them down along with my panties. My heart skips a fraction of a beat, worried that Charlie might have heard me.

“Malachi, wait—” I whisper harshly, realizing what’s about to happen.

He looks up from between my thighs, his hands holding the sides of my hips and pinning them to the cushions. “Blake, do you not want this?”

I swallow, taken in by the image he presents. He’s still dressed in his suit, radiating power and wealth. He’s a Nightshade vampire, violent and brutal from my little experience. And, now, he’s kneeling between me, his touch possessive but not confining. “I’ve just never had a guy—“ I press my lips closed, lifting a shoulder with a bit of deprecation.

“Never had a man go down on you?” Malachi finishes, a teasing note in his tone.

I shake my head, unable to lie. “No. I haven’t.”

He leans closer, pressing his lips to my inner thigh and trailing them towards my center. His breath fans across the sensitive skin and goosebumps race across my flesh. “Then I better set the standard high.”

Before I can say another word, his mouth is on me. The first brush of his tongue has my head falling back and my eyes closing. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do, so I let the sensations wash over me, allowing him to show me the way.

I’m not completely inexperienced, but it’s clear the men in my past were not the right partners.

With each pass of his tongue and teasing nibble from his teeth, the pressure builds within me. My breath comes in fast pants and I find myself rocking my hips, trying to seek the most pleasure.

Malachi groans, the sound vibrating against my flesh, and grips my ass, pulling me even closer. He licks, sucks, and kisses until all I can feel is the heat rushing through my veins and the ache that’s settled deep within me.

I reach down, needing to feel him, but Malachi is already there. His hand intertwines with mine, and he pins it beside my hip. He does the same with the other. I try to free myself, but his hold is like iron. I can’t break free.

The knowledge should send panic rushing through me, but it has the opposite effect. I relax back, trusting that Malachi knows what he’s doing.

I’m not disappointed.

He continues to worship my body, alternating between sucking on my clit and fucking me with his tongue. Each stroke of his tongue has a strangled cry leaving me, my hips jerking against his firm hold. It’s so hard to stay quiet when all I want to do is let go completely.

My climax builds, coiling my body tighter with tension as I squeeze my eyes shut. I bite down on my lips, desperate to stay quiet.

I lose the fight. One second, I’m hanging onto the edge by a thread, and the next, pleasure slams into me. An intense heat floods through my veins and every muscle in my body tightens, bowing the couch as my back arches. Then Malachi’s hand is there, covering my mouth even as his mouth still works me. I let out a shout, the sound muffled against his palm.

As my body comes down, he slows, drawing out the last tendrils of my release before lifting his head. His eyes, still golden with its ring of bright crimson, stare up at me. He’s not smiling, but there’s a satisfaction in the way his gaze caresses my face and body.

“ Now I’m going to fuck you.”