Crimson: An Ultimate Power Series Novella (The Ultimate Power Series #1.5) (3 page)

 “Hush,” I say to comfort her.

I really want to taste her tears. She gazes up at me now, and meeting her eyes this close roots me to the spot. I tilt my head ever so slightly to the side, admiring her delicately pale features, her fine porcelain skin. I know I need to touch her now, and my hand comes up to her face to wipe her tears away. Once I have them on my fingertips I can't stop myself from licking them up. The taste is immense, but only a mere fraction of what her blood could provide.

I smile at her and whisper, “I like that.”

I have always taken great pleasure in soaking up human emotions; sadness, happiness, they all have their own distinct flavour and scent. She is thoroughly confused by my actions.

 “Do you – do you work here?” she whispers back, speaking directly to me, as though she has forgotten the presence of Lucas and Delilah.

 “I own this club.” I tell her, noting the expression of surprise on her face. She had not expected that. I understand I don't look the part of the aged business man. To humans I appear quite young, no more than twenty-seven or so years of age, and I tend to dress casually.

 “Oh – really?” she asks, her forehead crinkling adorably. “Well, if that’s the case then could you please ask your friend over there to back off and let me leave?”

 “I don’t know if I want you to leave,” I reply, not being able to hold back the note of possessiveness in my words.

 “What?” she exclaims, definitely panicking now. I curse myself for having said that to her.

 I laugh softly then, to show her I'm not a psychopath. Unfortunately, I have momentarily forgotten that soft laughing is often unmistakeably psychopathic. I continue, “I’ll let you go, but first, would you let me try something?”

 “Um, yes. Well, it depends on what it is.”

 “All I need you to do is stare into my eyes and concentrate on what I say to you.” I have to get to the bottom of her resistance to our thrall. I know just the way to prove whether or not her refusal to Lucas outside in the hallway just now was a fluke.

“Okay,” she whispers, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

 Taking pleasure in putting my hands on her shoulders, I level her with the power of my gaze, putting all of my compulsion into my stare. For a moment I get caught up in admiring her. When I finally remember what I'm supposed to be doing I tell her, “Take off your dress.”

 Perhaps not the most gentlemanly of commands, but I couldn't help myself. Only for a fraction of a second does it seem like my thrall has worked. She raises a hand ever so slightly to the shoulder strap of her dress, as though to shrug out of it. But no, she shakes her head and stares at me coolly.

 “No chance,” she replies indignantly. “What is with you people?”

 “Quite amazing,” I breathe, now twice as intrigued with this rare human who is just full of surprises. “How do you do that?”

 She narrows her gaze. “Well excuse me, but I don’t strip off at the command of strangers. Can I go now?”

 “That was the deal.” I answer, my mouth curling in a huge smile.

 “You’re not letting her go until you find out where she lives, Ethan,” Lucas interjects from his position on the chair.

 My smile instantly vanishes, replaced now with a scowl. “Don’t presume to tell me what to do.”

 “He’s right,” says Delilah. “She could be a useful study. I have never come across one so unresponsive before, and judging from the fear I can smell radiating from her she’s not going to be coming back here any time soon.”

 Delilah has a fair point, yet I don't enjoy the idea of forcing the information from the woman. Putting on my most chivalrous demeanour, I request, “May I have your address?”

 “No.”

 “Pretty please,” I add, liking the fact that she's playing hard to get. I think I will thoroughly enjoy the chase.

 “I don’t know you, any of you, and I’m not reckless enough to go handing out my address to strangers.” Again, a fair point. It will not deter me though.

 “Then let me drive you home.” I insist.

 “Very funny.”

 “Is that a yes?”

 “Jesus, don’t you ever give up?”

 “It’s settled then, I’ll drive you home.”

 “I’ve already got a ride home thanks.”

 “Well now you’ve got a better one. Besides, you’re not leaving until you agree.” Oh, I really am enjoying this back and forth quipping between the two of us. It's making me want to drive her back to
my
home tonight, instead of her own.

 “I’ll scream,” she warns.
Yes
, I think confidently,
you will scream for me
.
Soon
.

 Still, I reply, “No you won’t. Don’t deny it, Tegan, you
want
me to drive you home.”

 I see her intention to run in her posture, just before she darts for the door. I grab onto her waist and pull her in tight. This really is the most fun I have had in quite a while. I shouldn't indulge in it though, especially since I can see how scared she is.

 I try again to soothe her. “Now, now, there’s nothing to be frightened of.” I trace my fingers up and down her dress gently, relishing in the feel of the smooth curve of her lower back. I feel her tremble softly in my arms. I let out a rumbling growl of satisfaction before I have the chance to hold it back. She might be frightened, but I think she likes me.

 Bored of the whole predicament, Delilah stands up to leave, putting a hand on Lucas' shoulder as a signal for him to follow her. “Come Lucas, leave them,” she says.

 Once they have vacated the room I let go of Tegan, although I'll admit reluctantly. I peer down at her. She is quite a bit shorter than me, perhaps five foot five or six at the tallest. “Have you calmed down?”

 “Yes.”

 “Are you going to cooperate?”

 “Maybe.”

 Hmm, she's still holding onto every last shred of defiance. Let's see what we can do to remedy that. I lean in close to her face and lock my eyes with hers. I can immediately see how my proximity affects her. Her breathing quickens. She won't hold out for much longer. “Are you going to let me escort you home?” I ask her quietly.

 “All right then,” she replies, exhaling. That's the answer I wanted. However, it unnerves me that my attempts to seduce her are not the only reason for the emotions stirring within her. She remains jittery and nervous. I take another deep breath of her scent, in an effort to perhaps discover the source of her anxiety. I don't find many more clues, only that her attraction to me is there in all its glory, the feeling of heat and the scent of roses. I can't help but to smile in triumph.

 “Don’t act like you don’t want me to. I can smell your attraction.” I say.

 “What is it with the smelling emotions thing? Because the last time I checked that wasn’t possible.” Damn, I'm not normally so careless; I generally leave that up to Lucas.

 “Just a figure of speech,” I reply, not wanting her to see that I am taken aback by how much she perceives. “Come, we’ll go tell your friends I’m taking you home.”

 “You’re giving me a lift, that’s all,” she says, narrowing those pretty blue eyes yet again.

 “Of course. I’m Ethan by the way,” I tell her, deciding to introduce myself properly at long last.

 “Whatever.”

 “Just thought you’d like to know, since you’ll be moaning it later on.” I smirk to myself. I couldn't seem to contain the remark. After all, it's the truth.

 “The only way I’ll be saying your name will be to report it to the police if you try anything psycho.” I laugh internally, oh touché little rabbit. I'm now even more determined to break down her defences.

 “No, that’s not how it will happen.” I counter, placing my hand to the small of her back and leading her out the door.

We go back out to the club so that she can inform her friends of her departure. She walks up to a woman with short platinum blond hair, who seems to exhale in relief to see Tegan appear before her. I scent out her emotions and smell concern within this woman. The problem is, I don't know what she's so concerned about.

 “Where the hell were you? I was worried.” The woman pulls Tegan into a motherly hug. They are probably the same age, yet there are some sort of protective instincts and care in the blond woman towards her raven haired friend that are almost maternal in nature.

 “Nowhere. Listen, I’m going home now.” Tegan answers.

 “Are you getting a cab?”

 Tegan's friend doesn't seem to have noticed my presence, which vaguely irks me.

 “I’m going to drive her,” I step forward and shake the woman's hand in greeting.

She gives me the once over, but doesn't seem all too taken with me, as human females normally are. A small smile touches her red lips as she turns back to say a final farewell to Tegan. Clearly, she has come to certain predictable conclusions about the two of us. Conclusions I will be all too happy to make a reality once I get this beauty home.

 “Oh. Okay, well, have fun.” Her smirk is unmistakeable, but Tegan doesn't seem pleased.

 “We will,” I answer, and before she can make any further statements to her friend, I lead her away and out of the club to the car park.

 Tegan doesn't say anything, but I notice her take in my vehicle in a slightly wary manner. It's a new Cadillac that I've had for about six months. The windows are tinted. This is necessary since I often find myself the target of slayers. Yes, slayers. The very same beings who ended the life of my father. This city is infested with them. They work for a worldwide organisation known as the DOH, or the Defenders of Humanity. So, the tinted windows allow me to evade them to a certain extent. They are also made with certain cutting edge technologies that block out the rays of the sun, should I find myself in such a dilemma as to be stuck outside during the day.

 “Well at least your car windows are reassuring,” Tegan draws my attention back to the present with her acerbic statement.

 We're inside the car now, and I feel the need to reassure her that I'm not a danger. Not to her anyway.

 “No harm will come to you when you’re with me,” I state firmly.

 “Okay,” she says in a low voice, her eyes impossibly wide. They seem to get bigger and bigger the more I look at them.

 “So, where to?” I ask.

 “Singe Street, Riverdale Apartments.”

 I immediately recognise the location, which is notorious for criminal activity and the presence of drug addicts. “That’s not a very good area,” I tell her, frowning.

 “Well I’m a student, it’s all I can afford.”

 This piques my interest, I want to learn everything about her that I possibly can. Perhaps it will lead me to finding out what she is. “What do you study?”

 “Art History,” she answers, letting out a small sigh of dejection. I momentarily wonder at this.

 “Do you enjoy it?”

 “Yes. I mean I did, but I haven’t been to my lectures for the past while.” I suppose that explains the dejection.

 “Why not?”

 “Long story.”

 “Enlighten me.”

 “No chance.”

 It seems she's going to be an even harder nut to crack than I had originally anticipated. But as I said, I am surprisingly enjoying the challenge she represents. Monotony is often a curse for those of us with long lives. It means that we will latch onto anything, no matter how small, that might create a distraction.

 “You said that this is the first time you’ve been outside in some time, why is that?”

 “As I said, it’s a long story,” she insists on providing me with as little information as possible.

 “I’d like it if you told me.” I try for tenderness, maybe it will soften her hard shell. It doesn't get the response I had hoped for.

 Instead she turns to me, a ball of anxiety and frustration. “Seriously, what is your deal? I don’t get any of this. Why is it so important that you find out where I live? I’ve been through a difficult time lately, so I just want to be left alone. I didn’t even want to go out tonight, but my friend convinced me it would be good for me. And now I’ve got three strangely intense people just dying to find out where I live. It’s all just too much right now, so please, just drive me home and stop asking questions.”

 “You finished?” I ask humorously. I don't intend to rile her up further, but I can't help how much I like it when she's angry at me.

 “Are you making fun of me?”

 “You’re cute when you’re all frustrated. I could help you with that you know.”

 A heavy sigh escapes her lips and she falls silent. A moment later we reach her building of residence. The structure is perhaps only twenty years old, but has already fallen into disrepair. They truly don't create buildings the way they used to, even the simple, practical ones such as this.

 Tegan quickly begins fumbling with her seat belt. I place my hand on hers to stop her, and in a seductive tone, I say, “Allow me.”

 “Sure,” she replies, her hands absent-mindedly falling to her sides as I open the belt for her.

 I decide to get straight to the point, when I ask, “Are you going to invite me in?”

 She hesitates and then whispers, “Are you trying to make a fool of me?” For a bare moment it makes my centuries old heart thump a little bit harder.