The Burning Claw
Page 31
They sat in companionable silence until he was finished and Jacque laid him in his bassinet. Then she turned to Fane and crossed her arms in front of her. “What is it you need to tell me?” She felt the information burning a hole in his head and it was time he spilled it.
Fane filled her in on everything Jen had told him while she’d been with Slate. She was impressed at Fane’s ability to decipher the jumbled, shortened mess of Jen’s explanations.
“So Bethany and Drake are doing alright and he hasn’t killed anyone so far. There’s a new chick named Zara who’s been hanging with Alina, learning the ropes, and Thia has learned to do raspberries with her tongue and lips. Did I get it all?”
“That pretty much sums it up,” Fane agreed.
“So what do we do now?” Jacque asked him, already knowing she wasn’t going to like his answer.
“We wait.”
“Waiting sucks.”
“You’ve said that before.”
She shrugged. “Still true.”
Chapter 7
“Everything feels so right. But it also feels so very, very wrong. I don’t know which of my warring emotions to believe. I feel as though my very soul is being split in half and it’s scaring me. I’m terrified that I’m missing something—something important—something so important that could hold the key to what’s going on inside of me. But I don’t have time to think. I agreed to this relationship and now Jericho and I spend every waking moment together. I stay lost because I don’t have time to stop and figure out where I’m at.” ~Sally
One week had passed since Sally was kissed so thoroughly that she’d been sure he’d taken her tongue with him when he finished. There had been many toe curling kisses since then, but it had always stopped there. Because of their busy work schedule, due to the loss of several employees at the bar, Jericho and Sally hadn’t really had much time together. If they weren’t working, they were sleeping.
As he walked behind her and smacked her backside for the fifteenth time that night—she’d been counting—Sally decided it was a good thing they hadn’t been alone. Jericho seemed especially touchy that day.
“How you holding up, Beautiful?” he asked her when they finally had a lull.
Jericho rested his hands on the bar on either side of Sally and looked down at her with his playful smirk. “I’m good,” Sally managed to spit out. He affected her; there was no getting around that. He was hot, sexy, and confident. What woman wouldn’t be affected?
“Oh believe me, I know just how good you are,” he teased. “But has tonight been okay? No one’s been giving you a hard time?”
He’d gotten even more protective and possessive with each passing day, but she didn’t feel as though he was trying to control her. He seemed to genuinely find anyone and everyone a possible threat to her safety. It was kind of endearing, in a weird, overbearing, creepy, stalker sort of way.
“You’d know if something was wrong, Jer. You haven’t been more than five feet away from me all night,” she challenged with narrowed eyes.
He shrugged, not bothered in the least. “You smell good. You taste even better. Maybe staying close is my evil plan to take what I want.”
She wasn’t going to ask, Sally thought to herself. She wasn’t going to ask. She refused to ask. She nearly threw her hands up when her next thought was oh hell, I’m going to ask. And then the words spilled right out. “What do you want?” Was that her voice sounding all breathy and swoony?
“This,” Jericho murmured against her lips before pressing his to hers. The kiss started off slow but, true to the tension that ran tightly between them, grew heated very fast. Their display earned them catcalls from their audience and Sally quickly pulled away. Her face felt as though she’d stuck it in an oven and pressed the broil button.
“Break’s over.” He grinned as he winked at her and then stepped away to help a man who’d just walked up to the bar. Sally quietly excused herself, mumbling something about needing to use the ladies room and hurried off.
As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Sally felt as though she was looking at a stranger. Who was the woman before her and when did she become one of those girls who swooned over the first guy who showed her some affection—even if he was an extremely hot bartender? Jericho had her in knots. Part of her wanted him, wanted what they were slowly building. But then there was this voice in the back of her mind screaming at her to run. Run where? she asked herself. But there was no answer, just the resounding feeling that she was in danger, that something was seriously wrong.
Sally turned on the faucet and splashed her face with cold water. It cleared her mind and cooled the heat that was perpetually flaring up on her face. After drying her hands and face off she turned to the door and took a deep breath. “You’ve got this,” she pepped herself. “He’s just a guy. It’s not like he’s some supernatural being with powers that warp my emotions and make me uncontrollably desire him.” Although, she thought, that seemed a more likely scenario than Sally, herself, feeling so desperate.
“Everything okay?” Jericho asked her once she’d resurfaced to the bar.
“Peachy,” she told him with a grin. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before walking over to a customer who’d called out his name. Must be a regular, she thought.
About an hour later, Jericho had his arm wrapped around Sally’s waist, pulling her back against him as he whispered in her ear. Two women walked in and headed straight for the bar. They took one look at Sally and the man holding on to her and both of their faces broke out into grins.
“Is this her then?” the redhead asked, a slight Irish accent rolling off her tongue.
“She’s prettier than you described,” the other woman, who had strawberry blonde hair, said. She too had an Irish accent, but it wasn’t even as pronounced at the first woman’s.
“Sally, I’d like you to meet two of my pa—” He paused midsentence and the two girls’ eyes widened. Jericho cleared his throat. “My two cousins,” he continued, sounding a little less sure of himself. “Evie and Isa.”
Sally held her hand out to each of them and shook theirs as she smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Fane filled her in on everything Jen had told him while she’d been with Slate. She was impressed at Fane’s ability to decipher the jumbled, shortened mess of Jen’s explanations.
“So Bethany and Drake are doing alright and he hasn’t killed anyone so far. There’s a new chick named Zara who’s been hanging with Alina, learning the ropes, and Thia has learned to do raspberries with her tongue and lips. Did I get it all?”
“That pretty much sums it up,” Fane agreed.
“So what do we do now?” Jacque asked him, already knowing she wasn’t going to like his answer.
“We wait.”
“Waiting sucks.”
“You’ve said that before.”
She shrugged. “Still true.”
Chapter 7
“Everything feels so right. But it also feels so very, very wrong. I don’t know which of my warring emotions to believe. I feel as though my very soul is being split in half and it’s scaring me. I’m terrified that I’m missing something—something important—something so important that could hold the key to what’s going on inside of me. But I don’t have time to think. I agreed to this relationship and now Jericho and I spend every waking moment together. I stay lost because I don’t have time to stop and figure out where I’m at.” ~Sally
One week had passed since Sally was kissed so thoroughly that she’d been sure he’d taken her tongue with him when he finished. There had been many toe curling kisses since then, but it had always stopped there. Because of their busy work schedule, due to the loss of several employees at the bar, Jericho and Sally hadn’t really had much time together. If they weren’t working, they were sleeping.
As he walked behind her and smacked her backside for the fifteenth time that night—she’d been counting—Sally decided it was a good thing they hadn’t been alone. Jericho seemed especially touchy that day.
“How you holding up, Beautiful?” he asked her when they finally had a lull.
Jericho rested his hands on the bar on either side of Sally and looked down at her with his playful smirk. “I’m good,” Sally managed to spit out. He affected her; there was no getting around that. He was hot, sexy, and confident. What woman wouldn’t be affected?
“Oh believe me, I know just how good you are,” he teased. “But has tonight been okay? No one’s been giving you a hard time?”
He’d gotten even more protective and possessive with each passing day, but she didn’t feel as though he was trying to control her. He seemed to genuinely find anyone and everyone a possible threat to her safety. It was kind of endearing, in a weird, overbearing, creepy, stalker sort of way.
“You’d know if something was wrong, Jer. You haven’t been more than five feet away from me all night,” she challenged with narrowed eyes.
He shrugged, not bothered in the least. “You smell good. You taste even better. Maybe staying close is my evil plan to take what I want.”
She wasn’t going to ask, Sally thought to herself. She wasn’t going to ask. She refused to ask. She nearly threw her hands up when her next thought was oh hell, I’m going to ask. And then the words spilled right out. “What do you want?” Was that her voice sounding all breathy and swoony?
“This,” Jericho murmured against her lips before pressing his to hers. The kiss started off slow but, true to the tension that ran tightly between them, grew heated very fast. Their display earned them catcalls from their audience and Sally quickly pulled away. Her face felt as though she’d stuck it in an oven and pressed the broil button.
“Break’s over.” He grinned as he winked at her and then stepped away to help a man who’d just walked up to the bar. Sally quietly excused herself, mumbling something about needing to use the ladies room and hurried off.
As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Sally felt as though she was looking at a stranger. Who was the woman before her and when did she become one of those girls who swooned over the first guy who showed her some affection—even if he was an extremely hot bartender? Jericho had her in knots. Part of her wanted him, wanted what they were slowly building. But then there was this voice in the back of her mind screaming at her to run. Run where? she asked herself. But there was no answer, just the resounding feeling that she was in danger, that something was seriously wrong.
Sally turned on the faucet and splashed her face with cold water. It cleared her mind and cooled the heat that was perpetually flaring up on her face. After drying her hands and face off she turned to the door and took a deep breath. “You’ve got this,” she pepped herself. “He’s just a guy. It’s not like he’s some supernatural being with powers that warp my emotions and make me uncontrollably desire him.” Although, she thought, that seemed a more likely scenario than Sally, herself, feeling so desperate.
“Everything okay?” Jericho asked her once she’d resurfaced to the bar.
“Peachy,” she told him with a grin. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before walking over to a customer who’d called out his name. Must be a regular, she thought.
About an hour later, Jericho had his arm wrapped around Sally’s waist, pulling her back against him as he whispered in her ear. Two women walked in and headed straight for the bar. They took one look at Sally and the man holding on to her and both of their faces broke out into grins.
“Is this her then?” the redhead asked, a slight Irish accent rolling off her tongue.
“She’s prettier than you described,” the other woman, who had strawberry blonde hair, said. She too had an Irish accent, but it wasn’t even as pronounced at the first woman’s.
“Sally, I’d like you to meet two of my pa—” He paused midsentence and the two girls’ eyes widened. Jericho cleared his throat. “My two cousins,” he continued, sounding a little less sure of himself. “Evie and Isa.”
Sally held her hand out to each of them and shook theirs as she smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”
