Authors: Lydia Michaels
“I’m here to see Ralph,”
Delilah announced.
The woman at the desk
did not acknowledge Delilah. “May I help you, sir?” she asked, her voice
breathless. Christian frowned.
A shrill, sharp whistle
came from his mate. “Hey, sister, I’m over here. You don’t worry about the
pretty man candy. He’s taken.”
The woman at the desk
turned and scowled at Delilah. “Mr. McLeay is in a meeting.”
“We’ll wait.”
Delilah took a seat in
one of the three chairs lined up against the wall. Christian sat beside her.
The woman at the desk continued to stare at him, making him uncomfortable.
“Can I offer you some
coffee?” she asked, her voice again breathless.
Christian thought of his
shake in the car and wished he had brought it inside.
“I’ll take a cup,”
Delilah said. She was acting different. Possessive, he thought. Christian hid a
smirk. He liked it.
The woman at the desk
huffed and stood. A few moments later she returned with a foam cup filled with
black liquid. “Here,” she said, with little regard to how the liquid sloshed
close to the rim of the cup over Delilah’s lap.
Delilah smiled sweetly
and batted her eyes. “Why, thank you. That will be all.” She took the cup,
sipped gently from the rim, and fanned her fingers at the other woman. “Go on
now, scoot. I’m sure you’re very busy.”
The woman’s lips pressed
tightly together as she pivoted on her heel and returned to her desk. Christian
sensed her gaze returning to him every so often, but kept his gaze on the stack
of magazines spread on the table to his right.
He started at the touch
of Delilah’s fingers to his ears. “Are you okay, baby? You’re being awfully
quiet.”
Baby?
He faced her and
frowned. Her voice was raspy. Her touch was blatantly suggestive and her eyes
had taken on a smoky quality. Arousal punched through him. What was she doing?
“Are you all right,
Delilah?”
“Oh, I’m very well,
Christian,” she purred. He sensed the woman at the desk staring at them again.
His mate’s fingers tickled at his collar and slid slowly down his arm and onto
his lap.
“I was thinking,” she
continued, her hand making soft circles on his upper thigh. “After this, we
might go back to bed for a bit. If you’re still hungry, I’m sure we could find
you something to eat.”
His brow tightened as
his eyes widened. He jerked his gaze to the woman at the desk whose cheeks were
red and her mouth hung open. Christian’s body tightened uncomfortably and he
shifted.
“Delilah, what are you
doing?” he whispered.
Her hand slid
dangerously close to the bulge in his pants. “I was just remembering how good
you took care of me the last time…” she blushed and Christian was not amused.
He stilled her hand and
returned it to her lap. However, he understood a bit more when he heard the
woman at the desk snigger. The color in Delilah’s face had faded and he noticed
the slight way her lower lip trembled.
What are you trying to
do, pintura?
Nothing!
Her inner voice snapped
back at him and her arms crossed as she retreated as far to the left side of
her chair as possible.
Perhaps if you tell me,
I can help you,
he sent the thought to her.
You won’t. Forget it. It
was stupid. Never mind.
He frowned and pressed
into his mate’s mind. Visions of the woman at the desk, only younger, were at
the forefront. She had a short skirt on and her skin was much more youthful.
Her hair had been closer to blond then as well, but he recognized the vision as
a younger version of the woman at the desk.
She was taunting Delilah
in the memory. They were in a schoolyard and Delilah was younger as well. She
did not have tattoos. Her hair was down and plain and her skin showed freckles
over the bridge of her nose. Her eyes wore entirely too much make up, but even
the black liner did not disguise the tears in them.
“What’s wrong, Morticia?
You didn’t actually think Bobby would want to go out with someone like you, did
you?”
The
younger vision of the woman at the desk laughed cruelly and Christian felt the
sting of forgotten humiliation resurrect itself in Delilah’s mind.
“Bite me, Meghan. He’s
only with you because you put out.”
Christian’s eyes moved
to the nameplate on the desk. The woman’s name was in fact Meghan.
He returned to Delilah’s
mind and heard young Meghan laugh nastily.
“Don’t be jealous because no one
wants to look at you. While they’re all dying to get in my pants, they’re
praying you keep yours on. It’s a shame. You would have thought the ugly
duckling theory would have applied to you, but you just keep getting uglier and
uglier. Good luck with that.”
Young Meghan pivoted on
her heel so much like the aged version of her had done only minutes ago, and
marched off. He sensed the pain Delilah was experiencing at this memory and did
not like it.
Christian faced the
woman at the desk and appraised her. She was nothing particularly special to
look at. He turned to his mate. She was beautiful. Her knee bounced anxiously
as her gaze bore into the closed double doors behind the woman’s desk. She
nibbled her lower lip and her spine was stiff.
“Did I ever tell you
about the first time I saw you,” he whispered loud enough for Meghan to hear.
Delilah’s knee stilled.
“You were sitting next
to that man at the bar. I knew he wanted to be intimate with you, because you
were obviously the most beautiful female in the room. The first thing I noticed
were your eyes. I loved the way they shined under the dim blue lights. Next I
noticed the gentle curve of your neck. You were perfect. I’ve seen many
beautiful things in my life, Delilah, but you took my breath away.
“I knew I needed to have
you. I wanted you to a point of pain. The first time I heard your voice, it
brushed over my skin like rain cools a hot desert. I burned for you like I’ve
never burned for another being in all my life.
“I thought, if I could
just make her love me, if I could just make her trust me to take care of her, I
would be the happiest male alive. When you kissed me that first time, I felt
the earth shift as though the touch of your sweet lips to mine could bring me
more pleasure than I’ve ever imagined. I was right. And then you gave me so
much more.”
Delilah slowly faced
him. Tears quivered in her eyes. He didn’t look at the other woman. He didn’t
need to. As much as he was proving a point, everything he said was true. He
needed to fabricate nothing in order to tell Delilah how much she meant to him.
“One day you will be my
wife and I will know I am the luckiest man ever to live in this world.” He
touched her knee much like she had touched his only minutes ago. “I have never
cared so much about what another person thinks of me the way I care what you
think. Do not ever try to be like the rest. You are far better and they know
it. Tis a shame they do not possess the gifts to be as unique as you.”
Her lips trembled and
her lashes fluttered as the wall of tears filling her eyes gave way and two
twin drops fell to her cheeks. He sensed the other woman watching them, sensed
her envy as it thickened the air in the room, but he did not look away from
Delilah’s eyes.
“I love you,” he
whispered, no longer concerned if the other woman heard his words. They were
for his mate.
Her brow tightened and
her lips firmed as a hundred emotions crossed her face. “Oh, Christian—” she
whispered and the doors behind the desk suddenly opened.
“Meghan, I need you to
draw up a lease for Mr. Clemons.”
Delilah quickly brushed
away her tears and drew in a shaky breath.
“Delilah, I didn’t
expect to see you until the late notices went out,” the man said rudely.
Christian’s hackles went up and he stood.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Mr. McLeay asked.
Christian looked to
Delilah.
“Don’t worry about her.
She can wait,” the man said.
Christian reached out a
hand and helped his mate stand. Facing the other man, he said coldly, “I am
here with Delilah. She will not wait and you will speak with her now.”
The man frowned and the
woman at the desk giggled. Mr. McLeay said, “Oh, I can see this is going to be
good. Please come in.”
They followed him into
the office, which boasted the repugnantly stale scent of cigar smoke. Christian
gestured toward a chair for Delilah and she quietly sat. Christian took the
seat beside her while Mr. McLeay seated himself behind an overly large desk.
The landlord folded his
hands. “What’s this about, Delilah?” he asked with indifferent arrogance.
“I need to get out of my
lease.”
The man laughed. “That’s
fine. I’d be more than happy to break the contract—
when
your year is up.
You have five months until it’s time to renew again.”
In a voice so soft he
barely recognized it as hers, she said, “I need to get out before then.”
“Well, then I suggest
you find yourself a good lawyer. You agreed to rent the unit for a full year.
I’ve been lenient over the past few years, forgiving your lateness and delaying
eviction notices when you cried broke.”
“There was a fee for
every payment that was late. Don’t pretend you offered any special treatment.”
“I gave you
other
options
I don’t usually offer my tenants.”
Christian growled and
the landlord looked at him. “Who are you?”
“I am Christian
Schrock.”
“And this meeting is
relevant to you, why?”
“Because it is important
to Delilah and anything that matters to her matters to me.”
The man rolled his eyes.
He was in his late fifties and clearly had Christian pegged as someone much
younger than himself. “Look, Ms. Starling, I suggest you get your shit in order
and figure out a way to make the next couple months’ rent. This isn’t a fucking
government office. Rent’s due on the first and I don’t have time for sob
stories.”
A snarl ripped from
Christian’s throat and the overweight man’s eyes bulged as he held his shirt in
a tight fist. “Watch your tongue before I rip it out. Delilah is here to sign
out of her lease. You will oblige her and leave the unnecessary comments out.
If it is a matter of money, we will pay, but do not think to take advantage. I
do not like you, Mr. McLeay. I would have no problem showing you how little you
impress me.”
He released the man and
the landlord fell back into his chair with a huff. His complexion turned a
muddled shade of red. “Megan, call the police. I will not be strong armed in
my—”
“Megan, sit,” Christian
barked and he sensed the girl drop back into her seat. “Get the appropriate
papers, Mr. McLeay.”
“Son, I don’t know who
you think you—”
“I have told you. I am
Christian Schrock. Now do as I say.”
“Christian.” Delilah’s
soft whispered plea drew his attention.
He looked down at her.
She wasn’t upset, only concerned.
“Fine. I don’t want the
little trollop for a tenant anyway. I know what kind of business she’s running.
Better to have her off my back—”
There was a crash, but
Christian could only see the red haze clouding his vision. He knocked the
portly man to the ground and hissed. Mr. McLeay’s eyes bulged and there was a
scream from the front office.
Christian held the man
to the ground. “What did you call her?”
“Jesus, what the fuck
are you?”
“Christian!” Delilah’s
voice cut through his rage. He turned back to her and saw terror in her
expression.
Glancing down at where
he held the man’s shirt his claws showed. Christian sat back and retracted his
claws, catching his breath.
The man shook like a pig
in a slaughter line. Christian looked at Delilah who now held a crying Meghan’s
arm and stood, expectantly in front of the desk as if unsure what to do.
He hadn’t fed in over
twelve hours and the adrenaline surging through the plump landlords veins had
his teeth punching through his gums. This outburst was completely unprecedented
and frightened Christian. What was he doing?
He leaned down close to
the other man’s face, the scent of sweat and cigar burning his nose. “Listen
very carefully,” he whispered. “We are going to leave and you are going to
release Delilah from her lease. The only thing you will remember of us being
here is that you were glad to assist such a nice female. She will have her
items removed by the end of the week and you will move on and that will be
that. Do anything beyond what I have said and I will be back. You do not want
me to come back, do you, Ralph?”
“No, sir.”
“Very good then.”
He stood and brushed off
the front of his clothing. Delilah watched him, her lips parted and eyes wide.
The secretary whimpered.