She had to be the one for him.
He’d just never touched her. If he had, he would have known for sure.
That ends now.
“Livvie,” the hostess called out, giving Aldon a strange look. Her mind was easy to read. She wondered where he’d come from, thinking there was no way she’d have missed someone like him. “You’ve got a table.”
“Are you set?” he heard Olivia ask the people at her table. “I’ll be back to check on you. Enjoy your dinner.”
He grinded his teeth, keeping his fangs from dropping.
How he loathed her waiting on others.
Ever since he’d tracked her down he’d wished she’d find another line of work. He’d refrained from giving her the idea, wanting to figure her out without invading her head and depositing his own thoughts. That was the danger with mortals. If you weren’t careful you could change who they were, influence their decisions.
When Olivia came to him, he wanted her. Not what he’d created.
She walked over, pulling a pad from the apron at her waist. As she retrieved her pen she lifted her head. Her purple irises were no longer as bright, her skin a sickly shade of yellow. Mortals wouldn’t notice it but he wasn’t a mortal. The last time he’d seen her she’d been the picture of health. Vibrant and youthful, the vampire blood in her system slowed the aging process considerably.
But no more.
The last blood she’d taken had obviously left her, returning her to a completely mortal state. She’d grow old now, her body susceptible to illness and disease. He guessed her to be in her mid-twenties, but since she’d been drinking from vampires she could be much older. His eyes took her in, his cock hardening despite the changes in her body and face.
Once she drinks from me she’ll heal. She’ll never look like this again.
At first she struggled to place him, her lovely brushstroke brows furrowing. Then her eyes widened, the scent of her fear punching into his nose. She stopped a couple of feet away, terror etched on her face, hands visibly trembling.
Her reaction made no sense whatsoever.
She knew about his kind. She’d lived with them for God knows how long.
Why would she be afraid? What has her so spooked?
“Come here, luvena,” he instructed quietly, staring into her eyes.
The order broke her from her trance. She scanned the diner, looking to see who might have seen her reaction. He understood that much at least. If she gave anything away she’d die on the spot. Doctors would think she’d suffered a heart attack or stroke. But it would be magic that killed her, the curse she’d accepted sending her to her death. He noticed her relief when she discovered no one had noticed her slip.
Lifting her shoulders, she walked to the table and asked, “What can I get you?”
Holy Mother of God.
She’d never spoken to him directly. Now he wished she had.
The sound stroked his nerve endings, his already stiff cock jerking in his trews. Her dismissal—pretending she didn’t remember him—agitated him a way he didn’t appreciate. Likely he’d tan that luscious little ass of hers so she wouldn’t do so again.
Touch her now. Be certain.
“I gave you an order,” he rasped, fingers twitching. “Come here.”
She’d broken away from the palace but she’d know not to disobey. It wasn’t an enormous request. If she didn’t do as he said she’d draw attention to herself. He waited, blood rushing through his veins, gums burning with the effort to keep his fangs retracted. As if it pained her she complied, inching nearer to the table. Her fear doubled and he could hear the frantic drumming of her heart.
Like a bird flapping its wings against the bars of a cage. She’s afraid.
The instant she was within reach his hand shot out.
He encased her tiny wrist in his fingers, holding back a groan when their skin touched for the first time. Like magic, a white-hot burst of blistering fire seared him, winding up his arm, traveling to his chest. Quickly as it came the sensation vanished. The deed was done.
He’d found her and imprinted on her, claiming her even if she didn’t know it yet.
His gaze ventured from the wrist he held to her face. She had felt the same thing but he was sure she didn’t comprehend its meaning. Not yet. The color had drained from her face, her pupils had completely dilated. A tremor shot through her, her skin going cold. He needed to get her away from this place, the sooner the better.
Before he could phase she yanked her arm away, standing upright. “Y-you n-need to l-leave,” she stammered, horror and revulsion evident by her tone.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Not without you.
He searched the minds in the area. There couldn’t be a scene. If he wanted he could use black magic, creating an illusion. Fortunately that wouldn’t be necessary. There was more than one way to skin a cat. Olivia needed to exit the establishment without causing a fuss. He followed mental pathways until he located the person he needed to influence.
Her boss. The cook.
In a second it was done.
Placing a thought into the man’s head was as easy as lifting a newborn.
“Livvie!” the mortal yelled from the kitchen. “I need you!”
Her terror returned, uncertainty wafting from her. “I’ll be right there,” she called in response but didn’t move.
Beautiful and clever female.
“Go. Do as he instructs then return to me.”
After tonight she’d never work again. The transition needed to be smooth. He’d let everyone around them think he was a normal customer coming to eat a meal. They wouldn’t notice a thing. He’d wait, get her alone and phase them out. Questions might be asked but without any clear answer Olivia would be safe.
With a final, petrified look at him she rushed away. He watched her go, resting in the booth. Once he’d taken her from this wretched place she’d be his to command. He couldn’t wait to uncover her body, exploring every soft curve.
No more wishful thinking. Tonight he’d have the reality.
Finally he’d see her on her knees.
Waiting for instruction at his feet.
Holy shit. Why is he here?
She willed her heart to stop pounding. If anyone noticed how shaken she was, they’d ask questions. She couldn’t risk that. Cancer might be taking her life but she had a little bit of time left. She didn’t want her heart to stop beating in an instant because she couldn’t keep a secret.
Entering the kitchen, she asked calmly, “What do you need?”
Harry—the owner and cook—shot her a look. He seemed almost dazed. “You need to clock out and go home.”
“What?” She was the only waitress on the floor. There was no way she could leave.
“You need to clock out,” he repeated like he was in a trance. “Go home.”
Then she knew. Her blood ran cold, terror returning with full force.
The vampire was responsible. He’d gotten inside Harry’s head. But why? Why would he show up here? He’d only seen her once and that had been months ago.
Have The Fallen come for me? Are they going to force me to go back?
If so she’d tell the entire world about them. She’d rather die immediately than return to that hell. The things they did to men and women sickened her. The only reason she’d agreed to exist there with Conrad was due to the bargain they’d struck. She wasn’t like the rest, used as a receptacle of lust. The things she’d seen had made her nauseous. She shivered as she pictured some of the acts, hating to recall that she’d sat there and watched.