Cass
I couldn't maintain my distance from Jameson for very long. After spending the afternoon in the company of psychos, I realised Jameson's man-whore ways were the least of my problems. I just wished I hadn't broken down on him – kissed him! That wasn't like me. And since when was I able to cry again? It was an embarrassment. I hadn't even cried in the V Games, let alone here, sobbing into a Werewolf's shoulder because I felt...what? Sick. And guilty. And full of a realisation that filled me with shame.
Vampires weren't hollow shells who loved to kill. They were slaves to a curse that, day by day without blood, robbed them of their humanity. And now I was one of them. I'd spent the V Games despising Varick for what he was. But now I knew the truth. Which meant I couldn't simply write off those girls as dead – Sakura, Briony, Marie, we'd all been friends. Even Angelina had only been trying to survive. And they'd been unwittingly given another chance at life. It tore me up inside to admit it, but so long as I had a healthy supply of blood from a willing participant, I sure as hell wasn't going to be killing myself any time soon. Being a V was a struggle, but it was definitely better than death.
I returned to the hotel room, the effects of Jameson's blood from the previous day having worn off a fraction. Brendan had commanded we feed every day to ensure we were as human as possible. But asking for his blood at that moment was the last thing I wanted to do.
Shame bubbled inside me like lava.
Why did I have to kiss him? What was I thinking?
I stepped into the room, expecting a barrage of nonsense from Jameson but he was slumped in a chair, a glass of whiskey barely gripped between his fingers as his arm dangled over the side.
I moved silently toward him, carefully extracting the glass and placing it down on the table, sliding it away so the overpowering scent didn't bother me so much.
His brows were knitted together, hinting at the dark dream he was having. I considered waking him, but that would have meant dealing with what had happened earlier. Why I'd kissed him, what it all meant. Questions I was quite content to ignore, but ones Jameson would ask without a care in the world.
Why did he pursue me so hard if he was happy to go around and screw random Ginas in this place? Was he just that arrogant that he thought he could have his cake and eat it? And why would he even bother with me when there were girls in every building in the resort that would happily go to bed with him? Not that their morals were much to speak of. But I didn't imagine Jameson was the type of guy who gave a crap about that.
The time slid by until it was ten to eight. I'd sat in total silence, the room completely dark apart from the amber glow of a lamp on a table beside Jameson's chair. His expression had softened and peace emanated from him. Waking him seemed cruel. What we'd have to face tonight wasn't worth leaving nice dreams for. But we had to show our faces. And more than that, we had to check in with the others.
I headed to the wardrobe, changing into a navy blue dress with little lace sleeves before returning to Jameson's side to wake him.
I hesitated, considering how to do so. Half of me wanted to slap him and the other to kiss him. I rolled my eyes at myself. What on Earth was getting in to me? I wasn't the type of girl who was sucked in by smooth words and pretty faces. Not any more anyway.
I settled on poking him in the chest and he jerked awake. “Firefly?” he peered up at me, grinning sleepily. “Thought you'd left me for another man.”
I pursed my lips, choosing to ignore the remark. “Get changed. We have to be at dinner in ten minutes.”
He sighed, standing, his eyes lingering on the glass I'd taken from his hand then trailing to me. A small, vulnerable look passed through his gaze then he walked to the wardrobe and started stripping. I turned my back on him, heading to the vanity unit to pointlessly check my hair and makeup. Perfect. As usual. For the first time since I'd been turned, I was grateful for that. My eyes slid to Jameson's reflection in the mirror, my gaze dropping to the tapered muscles at the base of his spine.
I dragged my eyes away, glaring at myself in the mirror.
What are you doing?!
“Ready,” he announced a minute later and I stood upright, turning to him with an impassive expression.
“Let's go.” I headed toward the door, but he didn't move, unbuttoning his collar and dragging it aside. “It's feeding time at the zoo.”
I wrinkled my nose. “You're a pig.”
“Wolf actually. Come and get it.” He flashed his neck like he was tempting in a lion and I narrowed my eyes at him.
“I'm not hungry,” I stated, moving closer to the door. Apart from anything else, I didn't feel right intruding on his thoughts again. And I wasn't about to reveal that truth any time soon.
“Brendan's orders.” He folded his arms, raising his brows until I gave in, stalking toward him.
The closer I moved to him, the more tension rippled between us. I acted unaffected, but I wasn't. My skin tingled at the proximity of him. Even when I tried to control the situation by gripping his hair in my fist and dropping my mouth to his neck.
He muttered in my ear, “Sorry about earlier.”
I halted, my fangs a millimeter from his neck, a million responses running through my head. I swallowed them all, digging my teeth into him and trying not to feel guilty about my silence.
He never wore cologne, which I appreciated seeing as the scent would have been like a bottle spilled over my face. And his blood smelt of nothing. So I really shouldn't have had any distractions. But as I drank, I noticed that he did smell of something. It was so subtle that I'd barely noticed it before, but it was a sweet kind of flavour that was uniquely, entirely him. It made me think of home. Not of the home I'd grown up in, with my drug-addict family, or in the home I'd tried to make with my ex-boyfriend which had been built on a foundation of lies, but of the home I'd never had. The home I had always wanted. A place that made me feel entirely safe. A place I wanted to come back to again and again.
His memories hit me in a rush that almost made me extract my teeth from his neck.
I was gazing up at a full moon on the deck of a ship awash with blood. I saw through Jameson's eyes as he screamed, felt the pain as he clawed at the clothes on his back until they shredded from his body. My spine – his spine - was curling, snapping, reshaping.
“The first time you turn is always the hardest,” a male voice rang through the air. Deep and comforting. A hand pressed to my shoulder, but I couldn't see his face. “You will have great gifts, but there is one curse that could be your undoing.”
I looked up through Jameson's eyes, my mouth moving for his words. “What?” he rasped through grinding teeth.
The man was shrouded in shadow, the moon glowing behind him like a halo. “Obedience. The first person who gains your utter loyalty shall have power over you until their death.”
“What can I do?” Jameson begged.
But I never got that answer as I extracted my teeth from Jameson's neck, quickly stepping away, feeling his eyes on me.
His expression was earnest and lacking humour for once. “Look, I'm sorry about Gina. She's just a girl who works here. She wanted some help.”
Slowly, I nodded, accepting he was being honest. “I've been hurt by someone like you before,” I forced out the truth.
He closed the distance between us, his eyes light and playful. “Wrong, Firefly. You've never been with someone like me before.”
I pressed my hand to his chest as he got too close, his scent surrounding me. Now I'd noticed it, it was all I could smell. He leant in to kiss me and at the last moment I offered him my cheek. His lips pressed to my skin, then he growled something incoherent and stalked away.
He buttoned his shirt to the top, hiding the bite mark on his neck before opening the door. I headed after him and we walked side by side to the elevator.
Jameson caught my arm before I stepped into the open lift, the space empty and waiting.
“No more of this,” he insisted, his expression tortured. “If I can't have you, then I need it to stop.”
A million words lodged in my throat. Whatever I thought of him, I couldn't deny he had feelings for me. Messed up feelings that probably had more to do with the fact we'd been stuck in a death game together for days, but still, I couldn't deny what was blazing in his eyes.
I wanted so much to give into him at that moment, to tell him he could have me, all of me. But my past wouldn't let me. The years of being alone, of knowing the only thing that came with love was pain.
“Consider it stopped,” I breathed and his heart broke, I could almost hear it.
His mouth twitched as if he wanted to say more, but neither of us did, stepping quietly into the elevator. Each level we descended was mirrored in my body, my heart plummeting into the depths of loss and a deep, bitter acceptance.
This charade was over. It was time to start focusing on what we'd really come here to do. And any feelings I had toward Jameson needed to be buried deep and never looked at again.