Cass
Jameson's blood didn't taste as bad as I'd expected. Kind of like the fat-free version of my favourite milkshake. I dug my hands into his spine, drawing him closer. He didn't even resist, gladly moulding his body against mine until I was sure he was getting off on this.
After about three seconds, something hit me. A flash of images scrolling across my vision. Small snippets of a life I didn't know. A young boy on a ship with scraggy black hair and someone laughing in a deep, booming voice.
“You'll learn the ropes from my son, and won't be any trouble.”
“Yes, sir.” The voice seemed to come from me, as if the memory was mine.
I smelt sea air and the brush of wind on my cheeks, the crash of waves against the hull of a ship. Little blonde curls blew around my face. I felt fear coursing through me, the worry of not being accepted.
I yanked my fangs free, stumbling back, my hand going to my mouth as I gazed at Jameson's stumped expression.
“What?” he asked dumbly.
Memories. I'd seen his memories.
I turned away from him, the intimacy of that fact too much to reveal. Surely he wouldn't let me drink from him if he knew what I'd seen?
“Nothing,” I muttered, trying to recover. “You taste like a dog, that's all.”
Is that what Brendan had meant when he'd said drinking from a Werewolf was unpleasant? Jameson surely had no idea, or he would have warned me. Wouldn't he? The idea of someone having access to my memories was abominable.
“I'm going for a shower.” He strode past me, throwing me a suggestive look before stepping into the bathroom. “Feel free to join.”
I rolled my eyes, heading to the wardrobe across the room to keep my hands busy. Dresses and suits were hanging in rows to our size requirements; Brendan had provided them for us in the invite responses.
My fingers halted on a green gown; it was so similar to the one I'd worn in the V Games that it made fear crawl beneath my skin. I quickly moved on from it, plucking out a black halterneck and changing into it. I paired it with some high heels – the type I'd never have been able to walk in before I was gifted the grace of a V – and moved to the mirror. Make-up was a pointless endeavour these days. I looked my best at all times regardless, my lips plump and red, my eyes forever sparkling.
I missed the old me.
I missed having to shave my legs and pluck my eyebrows. I missed the little human things that were always such a bother but now divided me from the world I'd always known.
I was a girl frozen in time. No more than a statue in a fine dress. Even my smile was different. More alluring, more seductive. I despised it.
Jameson's blood had a slower effect on me than human blood. I could feel it sliding through my veins. It was warmer than human blood and I was sure my temperature had risen to match it. But my pulse had barely elevated. I carefully laced my golden mask into place, double knotting it for fear of it coming undone.
When Jameson appeared from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, I realised what else his blood had returned to me. Desire.
I looked immediately away, cursing him and his stupid wolf blood.
“Seeing as you're probably going to be the last girl on earth to gaze at my abs, I'm happy for you to do so as much as possible.”
I heaved a sigh, hearing the sound of the towel dropping and him taking his time to put on clothes.
After a while, he asked, “How do I look?”
I turned as he tugged on the lapels of a fine black suit jacket. He looked stupidly hot as he spent a moment tying his mask on, which made me all the more angry.
“Like a spectator,” I bit out.
He frowned, approaching me, his eyes casting over my dress for the first time. “Lucky guy to have a wife like you.”
“Well maybe she's cheating on him,” I played along as he entered my personal bubble, popping it like gum.
“I doubt she'd need to,” he growled, his hand brushing a lock of hair from the bare skin of my shoulder.
With my heels on, I was eye to eye with him, but I was starting to feel smaller by the second and I didn't like it. I battened down the hatches on my emotions and gave him a cool stare. “Dog like you can't even satisfy your own hunger, let alone a woman.”
His easy demeanour faltered for half a second, but I sensed it. For a moment, I relished watching his cracks appear. No man would have the upper hand with me ever again.
He leant past me, opening the door and heading into the corridor without a word. Guilt lanced through me at my vicious attack, especially after I knew what he was dealing with right now. But his advances needed to stop. This was a mission. We weren't on honeymoon. And I wasn't going to play happy families when we weren't acting.
We met with Ned in the elevator alongside a handful of other beautifully dressed people. I shifted closer to him, chatting with him lightly to make sure our new-found friendship seemed realistic.
Jameson slipped his fingers between mine, taking me by surprise. He hadn't said anything since my lash at him, but his hold on my hand was full of comfort as he ran his thumb casually over my knuckles.
I barely heard what Ned was saying as we descended, running his mouth with a lie about him owning a chain of restaurants in the states.
As our conversation died, two men chatting caught my ear, “-blood everywhere and she was still screaming for help. It was brutal.” He bounced on his heels with his excitement.
The other man folded his arms. “That's nothing. In the Partridge Games, I saw a Vampire tear out a guy's intestines like he was doing a magic trick, just kept coming and coming.”
They were both laughing by the time the elevator door opened and everyone exited apart from Jameson and I. My fangs dug into my tongue, my desperation to kill them nearly overwhelming me.
Ned waited in the foyer, giving us an expectant look. But I couldn't move. I was rooted to the spot, the animal in me wildly present.
Jameson moved his mouth to my ear, pretending we were having an intimate moment as he stepped in front of me. “Patience, Firefly. I'll bring you both of their heads before this mission is over.”
“I want more than their heads-”
“Cameras,” he breathed and I nodded, pretending to duck my head shyly at something he'd said. My eyes locked with his as he slid his arms around my waist. He jabbed the door button with his elbow and they closed behind us, stealing us some privacy.
“If it ever gets too much, I'm here.” He gave me an intense look, no walls between us at that moment. “I know I'm a cocky shit ninety nine percent of the time. But I'm still here for you, okay?”
I nodded, the burning sensation in my throat easing. “Okay,” I breathed.
His mouth brushed my cheek as he stepped back. “Let's go.”
I let him guide me forward as he pressed the button so the doors opened. We stepped out into the grand foyer, joining Ned.
We followed the ebb and flow of the crowd, guided through a wide corridor into a grand ballroom, large enough to seat over five hundred people. The lighting was low and pop music was playing as everyone took seats at tables around the place. Jameson went ahead of us, locking down a table in a shadowy corner of the room. He and Ned threw their coats on two spare chairs to hold them for Selena and Varick, but we'd seen no sign of them yet. Beyond the tables was a large stage and coloured lights were swinging across the raised platform.
We were promptly handed champagne from a waiter and I realised we were about to face our first problem.
“I can't eat or drink,” I hissed at the others.
Jameson tongued his cheek in thought. “I'll eat your share,” he decided with a shrug.
“What if someone notices?” I asked.
Ned leant back in his chair, at ease. “Half the women here are stick thin. I doubt any of them eat anyway.”
An unexpected smile caught my mouth.
The music died and applause thundered through the room. I turned sharply to face the direction everyone else was looking. Being lowered from the ceiling in a hammock of chains, was a man. He was draped across it like a human sacrifice. I shared a glance with Jameson who had folded his arms, sitting back in his chair as he watched the strange display.
Spotlights flooded over the descending man, his face obscured in shadow. The beat of drums filled the room and as he reached the stage, the chains slackened and he dropped gracefully onto it, his head bowed forward and his arms outstretched.
He wore a sleeveless green tunic, gaping open in the middle to reveal a chiselled torso decorated with tattoos and long golden necklaces. Dark dreadlocks were gathered above his head in a bun, spewing from a silk band like a potted plant. As cannons of fire and smoke exploded either side of him, he looked up and lights wheeled over his face. He was beautiful, model-like and young. But by Hunters' standards perhaps that didn't mean much. He widened his arms in greeting, smiling at everyone, flashing shining teeth.
When he spoke, he did so with a Caribbean accent, his voice deep and musical, “I wanna welcome yous all into me home. Dis place be a place of many freedoms.” He moved with easy grace, descending from the stage and moving through the crowd, greeting everyone, brushing his fingers over some of their shoulders. I was glad we'd chosen a table so far from the stage, tucked away from him. “We all be here to pay tribute to a family yous all know well. Dey been hurt bad in their last game. Reminded us all what Vampires be capable of. But the next three days, we be gettin' our revenge. We be showin' de Helsings how much we support dem. We be hurtin' the people who hurt dem.”
A cheer went up and more applause followed. Some of the men hooted and pumped their fists in the air. A few even downed their drinks in their excitement.
Nerves trickled through me and I instinctively reached for Jameson's hand under the table. He took it, his eyes still fixed on the man.
He turned in our direction, smiling keenly and for a moment I feared he saw right through me to what I really was. “I be Rockley Jones. Owner of dis here resort. I be a Vampire's darkest nightmare.” He dragged a silver stake from his belt, waving it in the air to more applause.
“Enjoy de evening, de food, de wine.” He marched through the room and though I hadn't moved a muscle, my skin felt like it was on fire, a blazing beacon giving away my secret. He fell into a chair at a large table where he was greeted with more cheers.
Pop music blared out again and the room fell back into excited chatter. Waiters appeared, handing out menus and more drinks.
My hand was still firmly clamped in Jameson's and I quickly extracted it, feeling foolish for seeking comfort from him. I was a V. I could look after myself, even before I'd been turned. I certainly didn't need a man to take care of me.
He didn't seem to be paying attention anyway as he snatched a menu from a waiter and started flicking through it greedily.
“How can you be hungry?” I demanded, hearing his stomach growling.
“I get low blood sugar,” he answered innocently.
“Bullshit,” I laughed and he shot a grin at me.
“Aren't you worried about where the others are?” I glanced around the room again, trying to pinpoint Varick and Selena. What if they'd been caught? What if they hadn't made it through security and were currently being tortured for information?
“Relax. You really think those two can't handle themselves?” Jameson raised a brow.
I sighed, relaxing marginally. He was right. But still...where the hell were they?