***
Chapter Two
Shaking something awful, Brianna caught a taxi and rode home, her shawl once more pulled tight around her shoulders.
She’d never seen Yolen like that, his face ruddy with rage, his body almost parallel to the floor as he flew at Mastyr Keynes.
And she’d caused this fight.
She’d never behaved so badly in her entire life. She hadn’t just flirted with Mastyr Keynes, she’d all but thrown herself at him, inviting him to look at her throat. For a vampire, fewer things could be more seductive, and he’d been into her. He’d even mentioned that she smelled of the ocean and something floral. When Yolen drank from her, he said the same thing, only he said she smelled like jasmine.
A couple minutes more and she had no doubt that if Keynes had said the word, she would have left the bar with him.
She just didn’t understand.
Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking so she thrust them beneath her arms and clamped down hard. Pressure helped.
She squeezed her eyes shut and forced air into her lungs. The trouble was, the moment Keynes had touched her, she’d felt an overwhelming desire to open a vein for him. But now that she was away from him, and had some perspective, she couldn’t believe how she’d pushed her hair away from her throat like that, an equivalent gesture to rubbing her hand on his thigh in order to give a hint that she wanted sex.
And that was another thing, her entire body had started to warm to the man the longer she felt the weight of his hand on her skin. Did Keynes have some kind of strange, fae-like enthrallment power that had made her desire him?
The whole experience had left her horribly unsettled and feeling bad
about herself. She might have intended to break up with Yolen, but why on earth had she gone after Keynes, when things still weren’t settled between her and Yolen? This was not who she was.
And she didn’t even like Keynes, or at least she never used to. The whole thing was a mystery she couldn’t make out.
The taxi arrived at her home and as usual, she tipped the driver well, asking him to stay until she got inside her home. She lived in a two story house with a tall, pitched roof, three bedrooms and a studio that overlooked her backyard. The quiet, shady street rarely saw Invictus activity, but once she’d started dating Yolen, he’d insisted she take extra precautions because of what had happened to Mastyr Alec.
As she walked up the front pathway, she kept her head moving from side-to-side, checking out the lights and shadows of all her neighbors’ yards and watching the dark night skies for the signs of anyone in flight. She saw nothing untoward and as she crossed her threshold, she waved to the cabby, then locked the door behind her.
Setting her satchel on the long, wood table by the front door, she pulled out her phone, half expecting a call from Yolen. But her cell just stared at her with that blank look it could get, especially where Yolen was concerned. In the year she’d been dating him, she’d spoken with him on the phone maybe once a week, very briefly, and usually just to confirm their Friday night date.
Yep, Yolen and his boxes.
She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart felt supremely laden now, more so than usual, as though she’d been building up a supply for Yolen all week. She honestly felt as though she had too much blood circulating in her veins, something she didn’t exactly think was possible.
Certain thoughts flowed suddenly through her mind, how right now, by this time of the evening, she’d be very naked and locked in Yolen’s powerful arms. He’d be feasting at her throat, groaning in that way of his, pathing straight to her mind how much he loved her and how much he savored the way her blood tasted.
She forgot for a moment that she’d meant to break up with him. Instead, all she could think about was that she’d give just about anything to have Yolen walk through her front door, pick her up, sling her over one of his massive shoulders, then take her straight to bed.
As it was, her cat rubbed around her ankles and meowed. She wasn’t fooled. Her fat tabby just wanted a treat, or some catnip, or maybe his ears rubbed.
She leaned down and petted him. “Sorry. But you really aren’t much of a substitute for that vampire.”
Rising up, she frowned, wondering if she should call Yolen. She might not have liked that he’d gotten into a bar fight with another vampire, but she had to admit that her aberrant behavior had provoked him badly.
Yet, as she glanced at her phone, she held back. In truth, what difference would it make if she apologized? Would it change anything between them?
Not likely.
* * * * * * * * *
Yolen woke up some time later, lying on a bench and staring at an entire row of iron bars that ran floor to ceiling.
Where the hell was he?
His face hurt and he could only see from one eye. Keynes had gotten in a few, powerful hits, the last one taking Yolen out.