Jared held onto my lower arms and smiled triumphantly at Max. “Sorry to leave you stranded.”
Chapter Eleven
(Sam)
The second that the queasy feeling in my stomach, courtesy of teleporting, eased and we arrived at Jared’s apartment I ripped my arms from his grasp. He was already laughing, rather pleased with himself. I wasn’t sure what I felt most strongly: annoyed at him for thinking he had the right to interfere with my plans, or flattered that he was so affected by the idea of me having plans with someone else. It was always nice to have a little power over someone who tended to consider themselves to be all big and bad.
“Next time you feel like winding up some bloke I’m about to go out with, you might want to warn me in advance.”
“I wound him up?” He snorted. “I wasn’t the one who turned up at someone else’s apartment threatening them to stay away from you.”
I gaped. “He did that?”
“Must be love in its purest form.”
I went to slap his arm but in a blurred motion he was out of my sight. That’s when I took notice of the apartment. It was like double the size of mine. And incredible. The colour scheme was a perfect mixture of warm gold, cream and ivory. Dark oak flooring seemed to be a feature throughout. His living area was bigger than my bedroom and en-suite bathroom combined. He had one of those leather corner sofas that seated like eight people and were so bulky that when you sat on it your feet just about touched the floor. The rectangular coffee table had pillar-like legs and matched the oak flooring so perfectly that I wondered if the table was made out of the same wood as the flooring. Typical of blokes, his platinum T.V. was unnecessarily wide. And wow he had a fish-tank somehow built into the wall. Posh bugger.
Past the living room was a large space with a conference table in the centre, and following on from that was the kitchen. Even from here, the beginning of the living area, I could tell that the large square kitchen was extremely modern; rich woods, chrome appliances, and marble counters.
I suddenly became conscious that Jared was stood at the outer edge of the kitchen staring at me as he tackled an NST. He raised an eyebrow. “Like it?”
Oh so this was usually all it took to have women on their backs with their legs spread. I casually shrugged one shoulder. “It’s alright.”
He laughed. The gruff sound of it was alluring. God, he was alluring. Even more so when he wore those black Armani jeans and that very complimentary white Armani t-shirt, the best feature of course being that knee-length leather jacket. I was starting to suspect that he hadn’t removed it because he knew how much I liked it on him.
Raising both brows now, he used his thumb to gesture behind them. “The bedroom’s that way, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
I gestured to behind me. “And the front door’s that way, and unless you want me to walk right on out of it you can behave yourself.”
He smiled. “I’ll try to behave.”
“On a more serious note, doesn’t it get weird having all this space to yourself?”
The humour in his eyes dimmed a little for a split second. Then he shot me a roguish smile. “I need all the space for my big swollen ego.”
“I never thought of that.”
He nodded toward the kitchen. “Want anything? I take it you haven’t eaten.” His mouth twitched. Clearly he was delighted about the situation he had created.
“Got any alcohol flavoured NSTs?”
“I might have Budweiser flavoured ones.”
“They’ll do.”
“You like Budweiser?”
I gave him an impatient look. “Let me guess, you find that so surprising because I’m a girl and we girls generally drink spirits and cocktails.”
He held his hands up in an apologetic gesture. “I’ll take my sexist ass to the refrigerator and bring you back some Bud flavoured NSTs.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
He laughed again and nodded toward the conference table before then disappearing into the kitchen. On the surface of the long, glass table was a thick file. So he was telling the truth about there being information for me to look at, he wasn’t just trying to get me away from Max. A small part of me was stupidly disappointed that he hadn’t simply acted on a need to end my night with Max.
Placing my small white handbag on the table, I called out, “What is this gathering anyway? And who’s Connelly?”
Jared swiftly appeared beside me with a handful of NSTs that he plonked on the table, making them noisily clink against the glass surface. “Connelly is a High Master vampire. He’s about three centuries old and he’s got a rod stuck up his ass, but he’s devoted to Antonio.”
“So then why invite you to the gathering and not Antonio?”
“Antonio never leaves The Hollow. Ever. By going to the gathering, I’m kind of his representative.”
“And this gathering is an annual thing?” I took the opened NST he was offering and took a swig. Not bad.
“Yep.”
“For what?”
“It’s the anniversary of the day that Connelly became a vampire. He has this huge party every year, but really it’s just an excuse for everyone to get together and get smashed. But, the reason people go is because Connelly’s very select about who he invites. He never exceeds a certain number either. So to get invited is thought of as an honour; a statement that you’re considered important in the vampire world.”
“So basically it’s an opportunity for all of you ‘select’ people to get together and shine your swollen egos.”
He jiggled his head. “More or less. Unless a vampire is a master vampire, they don’t get invited. The only ones who aren’t masters are the High Masters.” He patted the file. “Antonio wants you to have an idea of who they are before you go. We know that Bennington will be invited, and Antonio’s concerned that if Bennington attends he will use the opportunity to approach the other High Masters with his plans to attack The Hollow. It’s doubtful that he’ll just come straight out with it, but he might hint at it to test the water. So Antonio wants us both to be on the alert.”
I cast him a suspicious look. “I could have just gone through this at dusk before we left.”
He smiled. “So you could’ve.”
So he was eager to get me away from Max. Hmm. And now he was doing his glaring thing again, taking in my white satin strapless dress and my white stilettos. Slowly his eyes skated over every inch of my body, boring into me to the point that his glare was almost a caress. I could literally feel his need for me and had to repress a shudder. Twisting his lips and raising a brow suggestively, he met my gaze.
I warned him with my eyes before I spoke. “Oi, you can stop that right now.”
“What?”
“You know bloody well what, so don’t muck about.”
“I like looking at you.” He shrugged, all innocence.
“Well I don’t like you looking at me.”
He edged a little closer. “You wanted me last night.”
“And you said no.”
“It wasn’t a rejection, I told you why.” His hungry gaze travelled over me again. “I won’t say no now.” He ran the rim of his bottle down the length of my bare arm. I held back a quiver. “Sam.”
“No.”
“No? Why?” He was amused.
My God he had to know that even if I was up for shagging someone who suffered from Obsessive Consort Disorder – which I definitely wasn’t, honest – I would never have given in to him so easy anyway after the way he had snubbed my offer last night. Feminine pride was a big thing. “A girl can change her mind.”
“Then change it back again.” He edged closer again but still didn’t touch me. Thank God. It was hard enough just having him that close and feeling his breath at my ear.
“Can we go through this file please?” I said impatiently.
He looked about to object but then his grin became crooked and he narrowed his eyes. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what
we’ll do.”
I picked up the file and sat on one of the leather-cushioned table chairs. At the forefront of the contents was an A4 photograph of a middle-aged bloke – although he could be centuries old in vampire years – with quite a friendly face. His shoulder-length sleek hair was almost white and his deep-set amber eyes were framed by sparse black lashes. He had a child-like button nose which was probably the main factor in giving him such a friendly appearance.
“That’s Connelly. Rupert Connelly,” added Jared as he sat on the chair next to mine. “He’s the High Master of the entire Caribbean and other places like Hawaii and Brazil. He’s a Keja. He’s about two centuries old. Worships Antonio. Any time he’s ever visited The Hollow he’s stuck to Antonio like a fly to shit.”
“Is he as friendly as he looks?”
“I’ve honestly never met anyone so giddy. Very sociable. Giggles a lot. One thing I know for certain is that he’d never betray Antonio. If an attack does happen, he’ll align himself with Antonio and do everything he can to help protect The Hollow.”
“Will his gift do much good in an attack?”
“That depends how involved he is during the defence. He has infrared vision, so if he was leading his own legion as opposed to having someone else do it then he’d be able to point them in the right direction of where the invaders are.”
I took a moment to memorise Connelly’s face before then moving on. The bloke on the next photograph didn’t look much older in human years than me, but his almond blue eyes held a twinkle of wisdom so I guessed he’d been around for a while. His facial structure was sculpture-worthy and made all the more appealing by the hood of sandy tight curls that hung down to his cheekbones. Very broad shoulders, I noticed.
“That’s Carlos – he doesn’t use a surname. A Pagori. High Master of quite a few places like Spain, the Canary Islands, Morocco, Portugal...He doesn’t reside anywhere in particular, he likes to travel. Sociable enough but only interested in serving his own interests.”
“So if he deduces that Bennington’s plan of attacking The Hollow has a high chance of succeeding, he could easily align himself with Bennington.”
“Oh yeah.”
“His gift?”
“He’s Psychometric. By touching something he can give details about its past, present, future – that kind of thing.”
“Just objects, or people too?”
“Not sure, actually.” He snickered at the next photograph as I moved on from Carlos. “Rowan Murdock,” he drawled. “Not the nicest of vampires.”
Rowan looked as though he had been Turned when he was in his late forties. He had long, dark incredibly straight hair and the largest eyes, largely glinting amber. Clearly a Keja vampire. With his chunky lips pursed and one dark eyebrow arched he gave off an arrogant vibe. “He looks stuck up.”
Jared giggled. “He mainly lives in Italy, but he’s High Master over Greece, all the Greek islands, Turkey, Algeria, Egypt and more. He’s got an extensive bloodline.”
“So he’s quite the biter.”
“You could say that. He always takes his life-partner with him to the gatherings. Marcia I think her name is. She’s very...prim and proper.”
“A snob,” I offered.
“But she won’t be snobbish to you because she’ll think you’re my consort and she’s never snobbish toward the consorts which I think is weird.”
“She obviously just doesn’t feel threatened by the consorts.”
“You mean the way Joy feels threatened by you?” His smile was cute, inviting and playful. His eyes raked over me again.
I gave him a pointed look. “Oi, we’re talking about these High Master vampires, nothing else.”
“I know,” he said innocently like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
I tapped the photograph. “So what’s this Rowan like with regards to Antonio? A fan or...?”
“He’s not exactly chummy with him but I can’t see him ever betraying Antonio. He thinks that highly of himself, he’d never associate or align himself with any vampires who were challenging Antonio. That kind of thing is beneath him. His gift is pretty cool. He can mimic any non-living substance just by touching it.”
Although I could feel Jared’s eyes on me I forced my concentration onto the photograph, memorising the face, before flipping to the following one. The first thing I noticed about this bloke was his nose; long, wide and turned up. His cropped hair was a reddish gold and his tiny beard was a few shades darker than his hair. There was a large ring of red around his grey eyes, meaning not only was he a Pagori but he was angry, hungry or horny when this photograph was taken.
“Curran. Don’t know his first name.” Jared paused to open another NST. “He kind of keeps himself to himself at any gatherings, but he’s alright once you get him talking. He’s not High Master over many places. Mostly just Canada and Alaska.”
“That could go in our favour. He’ll figure that after the battle there’ll be enough casualties to mean that some countries are without a High Master. If he wants more territory he might join Antonio.”
Jared nodded. “Very likely. But I’d say that the other side will try to coax him to betray Antonio because his gift is pretty impressive. Duplication.”
“So...He can create duplicates of himself or others and scatter them around to join the battle to replace any casualties.”
Jared nodded again. “I can’t see him betraying Antonio though. I’m not saying he’d definitely join the battle, he might want to sit it out completely.”
I knew the bloke on the next photograph. I recognised his chubby face, the thin coal-black moustache, the smarmy expression, and it was impossible to forget the way he combed his dark hair to the side of his head, covering his bald patch (not so well).
“Bennington,” I said.
“That’s right. You’ve met him, right?” I nodded. “Creepy guy. He might want to have a catch up if he sees you.”
“Or try to employ me.”
“He tried to take you off Victor?”
“Yeah, a few times. Out of the two of them, Victor was the lesser evil.”
Jared tilted his head, conceding that. “He’s High Master over Greenland and Iceland as well as Britain. Out of all the High Masters, he’s had the most challenges to his role.”
“I’m not surprised, he makes enemies pretty easy. Bennington’s gift wouldn’t exactly help him in a battle. He can sense people’s gifts, but he has to be extremely up close to do it.”
“I hope he gets up close to me. Decapitating him would be the highlight of my year.”
“Be careful, I might beat you to it.”
“Bennington’s mine,” he insisted with a smile.
I gave him a ‘whatever’ shrug and then slung the photograph to examine the next. Whoa, they were the bushiest eyebrows I’d ever seen – they joined in the middle, making the bloke look like he had a caterpillar hanging above his round dark eyes. His coppery hair was quite tousled, sticking out here and there and tickling his long ears.
“That’s Winston Jones, but he changes his name near enough every time the wind changes course. He’s High Master over Australia, New Zealand, and Indonesia and all the little surrounding islands. Older than Antonio by a couple of decades. He’s known mostly for having the largest harem.”
“Go on, how many consorts?”
“Over eighty.”
I grimaced. “That’s bad, worse than man-boobs.”
Jared laughed. “Don’t talk about tits. I’m having a hard time ignoring yours.”
“That’s because you’re perverted.”
“No, it’s because I want you, and you’re making it really hard to resist you when you come here dressed like that.”
“Er, excuse me, I did not turn up here like this for your benefit. I was at a restaurant, and you snatched me from it, remember. Now let’s get back to this file. So, what’s this bloke’s gift?”
“Nothing uncommon. Winston can levitate, but he can levitate quite hi
gh.”
“What side do you think he’ll align himself with?”
“It’s hard to say. Winston’s weird like that. One minute he’s laughing and joking with you but then the slightest thing changes his mood.”
“Typical Pagori,” I muttered.
Jared frowned at the jibe but then his smile quickly returned. “Winston’s quite impulsive. I think his decision will just depend on how he’s feeling at the exact moment that he realises he has to choose a side or back out.”
The next photograph was of a Keja vampire of Japanese origin. He was neither smiling nor frowning; his expression and posture was very relaxed and reserved, and I imagined him to be a very cool, collected person. In this respect, he made me think of Antonio.
“He calls himself Bran,” said Jared. “He’s a Keja. He’s always been a close friend of Antonio’s, they have the same Sire. There’s no doubt where his allegiance will lie.”
“Good.”
“He’s High Master over Japan, China, and Africa among other places. Quiet and respectful. He makes me think of a librarian. Doesn’t like Connelly much, I think that’s because Connelly talks so much.”
“And what’s in his bag of tricks?”
“He’s an Ecological Empath; he has a psychic sensitivity to his surrounding environment.” His bad-boy smile was suddenly back. “Want to have a rummage in my bag of tricks? You never know what might pop up.”
“Jared,” I growled in warning, but it didn’t have much humph behind it seen as I was giggling at the same time.
Wearing a crooked, sexy grin, he said, “Joke.” But his tone and the intensity of his gaze completely contradicted that. I swallowed. The horniness continues...
The next vampire looked a lot like Butch with his neat hairdo and the devilish tint to his eyes. Unlike Butch he seemed to like facial piercings; his nose, eyebrows, lips and ears all either had hoops or studs decorating them. His smile revealed a couple of gold teeth. He didn’t photograph very well. I have to say, though I’m not very photogenic myself. In human years, he was probably the oldest of all the High Masters.
“Ricardo Maxwell.”