Here Be Sexist Vampires

Jared would watch me closely when they were around. No idea why. I took to focusing on whatever documents were in front of me, no matter what they were. I would sooner have left the office altogether but then it would have looked as though their presence bothered me in some way and I was not about to let Jared believe that. Even though it was true. I have to admit to having a lack of rationality where Jared was concerned, though it made no sense. As such, the whip nearly materialized in my hands a few times when Joy gave him them noisy kisses of hers. Whipping her into insensibility would have felt good.

“I wouldn’t let her or him bother you, luv. Spit him out of your mind. What about that Max bloke? He’s alright, and he likes you well enough. Luscious too.”

“Yep, he is,” I admitted. Max had continued his flirting and always on his own time, to his credit. I was actually beginning to think that the wanker wasn’t all that bad. The way he didn’t take life too seriously made him an attractive person to be around. I laughed a lot when he was there.

“Can I ask...I’ve noticed Evan goes to the office a lot these days, who is it he goes to see? I would’ve thought it was Jared, but whenever I pop my head through the door to speak to you he’s perched on your table.”

“I know how it might look, but I swear we’ve never flirted or anything. It’s always to see Jared but then me and Evan always end up laughing about something or other. I think he just finds it easy to talk to me because unlike every other woman in The Hollow I don’t mistake it for flirting and then try it on with him.” For some reason Evan had rejected every girl who showed interest in him, but he always turned them down gently; he was sweet in spite of the cockiness. Quite the opposite of his brother in that respect. One thing that really impressed me about him was that although his twin brother had been made Heir and was highly thought of and involved in absolutely everything, Evan wasn’t a bit jealous. He had told me that all that stuff wasn’t important to him; that he liked being just a Commander and that he thought his brother deserved the attention he received. “You know, I get the feeling that he’s a bit lonely sometimes, but I can’t work out why he seems to prefer it that way.”

“Oooh, maybe he’s secretly g*y,” he crooned, excited. Then he suddenly sobered. “Oh luv, please don’t tell Norm about the ‘oooh’, he’ll kill me.”

I giggled. “I’ll take it to the grave.”

“You’re immortal. What grave?” He picked up another of the NSTs, a curry flavoured one, and eyed it suspiciously. “Why is it that this looks more like a burst abscess?”

Again I laughed. And that was pretty much how the evening with Fletcher went. I couldn’t help but absolutely adore the bloke. Every home should have a Fletcher.

Chapter Eight

(Jared)

Although Joy was whispering something in my ear about plans for tonight involving chocolate mousse, handcuffs and a whip, my eyes were on Sam. I guessed that Joy’s loud whispering was for Sam’s benefit. She felt threatened by Sam, I now knew, which was why she persistently appeared at the office, and I had to wonder if Joy’s mention of a whip was just to ensure that she got Sam the whip-queen’s attention. If Joy had succeeded, Sam wasn’t showing it.

She was at her desk staring at the documents in front of her, truly looking completely engrossed in what she was reading. Subconsciously she was twining a stray strand of her hair around her finger, reminding me of the time when I had my fingers in that hair. Her other hand was cupping her neck as she leant her head into it, reminding me of the time when I was leaving a trail of kisses along that neck. She was running her tongue along the inside of her bottom lip, reminding me of how that tongue had knotted with mine and how those lips had felt on mine. She was a greedy kisser, and I’d loved it.

The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed was repeatedly drawing my attention to her cle**age that was already accentuated enough by that low-cut vest. God bless Fletcher and his clothing advice. Every time she twirled her ankle my attention drifted to those legs that had felt so good curled around me.

She could have no idea how much she, by doing nothing, was making me want her.

I almost hated her for it.

Hating her would be a good thing. She was the only woman ever to make me feel bad about myself. As soon as I’d calmed down after our fight I’d wanted to slap myself. She hadn’t meant that thing about her Sire the way it came out. I knew that. But I’d been an ass to her, and I regretted it. Would I tell her that? No. Pride and all that.

It was stupid that I’d accused her of having a thing for my brother. She hadn’t. I knew that. But it was likely that she now did. Evan was just as bad as Joy for coming to the office all the time. Sam and he would then always end up talking. He always seemed to have something to say to her. It felt like I was being sliced at every time I watched her laugh at something he said or greet him with that big smile that she had never once showed me.

Because of that, I liked that Joy came to the office. This way, both Sam and I felt awkward sometimes. She could pretend to be engrossed in those documents all she wanted, just as she always did, but I’d bet she was well aware of everything that Joy said and did.

The night when Joy had brought along Daniela and Tammy hadn’t been a good night for me. I knew seeing the three of them would remind Sam of just why she had refused me, would make her conclude that she had made the right decision. I’d been hoping that in time she would come to change her mind, open her eyes more to the idea of what I’d offered. If she had, the three of them turning up together like sisters would have cancelled that right out, because Sam was right; she could never be a part of anything like that. She was more than that. I respected her for it. I wanted her for it. I almost hated her for it.

It was always that I almost hated her. I could never get past the wanting her. Could never shake her off. Could never find anything about her that made me want her less. The wanting was quickly becoming aching. I didn’t want to be like this anymore; constantly thinking about and wanting someone that I couldn’t have but who my soul seemed to think was mine.

Christ, now she’s just making it worse...She had left her chair and was stretching up to reach the top shelf of one of the filing cabinets, returning some documents. Her top had risen up and the small of her back was showing, flashing me some kind of swirly tattoo. To make it even worse, but at the same time better, was that I could see the top of her panties...red silk with a band of lace at the top. I was seriously at risk of becoming painfully hard.