The Feelings in the Blood

4 Dion

One year later…..

Mariana POV

“Come on, Tara. Answer the damn phone,” I muttered to myself, walking back towards our apartment in the city. I shouldn’t have to make this trek, but she hasn’t been answering the phone for the last hour. I swear, if her and Alex are f*****g, I’m moving the f**k out, or making them move. This is too common an occurrence now.

No answer. Again.

“Damn it, Tara,” I groaned, crossing the street hurriedly, my heels clicking on the concrete. I have an important client coming to the gallery in half an hour and he decided at the last minute that he needed a new painting we were storing at home until we could get it professionally framed, or maybe just burn it. He saw the artist’s social and a glimpes of the erotic abstract painting of a naked woman and wanted it.

The reason I was keeping it at home and not the gallery is because I was drunkenly coerced into being the model for the thing, and I wasn’t ready to put a price tag on my naked ass yet. Looks like that will have to be overcome super f*****g fast, because the client wants it, and he won’t take no for an answer.

I turn the keys on the door, then instantly am met with the erotic noises of my roommates' passionate lovemaking. ON MY f*****g COUCH.

“Damn it, you two!” I yelled, making Tara startle, almost falling off Alex’s lap. She has the decency to look embarrassed, but he doesn’t even stop. He grabs her waist to keep her from falling as she tries pulling a blanket up to hide herself, then continues thrusting up into her.

“f**k both of you. I’ve been calling you for the past hour. I’m moving out,” I sneered, clicking my heels across the floor as I walked back to my home office.

“Will you stop,” I hear Tara whining at Alex while I’m in the other room. “She’s really upset.”

“It’s nothing she hasn’t already seen,” he tells her in a seductive voice, making my eyes roll.

“Alex,” she gripes, and I imagine she’s trying to pull herself off his lap because of the strain in her voice.

“Fine,” he groans, and I hear them shuffling around as I find the painting in a protective casing on the stack leaning against my wall.

I sighed deeply before heading back out to the living room with the painting and my cell phone in hand. “When I move, I expect one of you to buy me a new couch. You f**k on that one, it’s yours. I’ll send you the bill for my new one.”

“Come on, Mari. We thought you were staying late with a client,” Tara whines, wrapping the blanket around herself as she walks towards me. Alex is sliding on his boxers, still fully erect, which makes me gag.

“Nope. I’m done. I’m single as f**k but I see more action than I should. I’m moving out.”

“We’ll put a sock on the door next time. You’re not moving out,” Alex says, though he looks ticked off that they were interrupted.

“Yes I am. I’ve been looking already. You two can screw to your heart’s content with me gone. I don’t know why you keep insisting I stay.”

“Because you’re my best friend,” Tara gives me her puppy dog eyes, sticking out her bottom lip as she tries to grip my hand. I just saw where her hand was, so I was quick to pull it away, holding my hand out in front of me so she didn’t come any closer.

“You smell like s*x. I still have to meet that client, so stay back.”

She jutted her lip out further, almost making me buckle and agree to stay. Why they both insist on me staying, I have no clue. Even Alex, though he isn’t fond of getting interrupted, doesn’t want me to move out. It's weird.

“I’ll be back after this appointment and we can talk about it more,” I told them, picking my bag up off the counter.

“There’s nothing to talk about!” Alex yelled from the couch as I walked out the door. “You’re not moving!”

“f**k you!” I call back, flipping him off before the door shuts behind me.

I checked my watch and saw that I had to hurry back to the gallery, only having 20 minutes now. I should have asked Alex if I could borrow his car. Running in heels doesn’t sound appealing to me, but I have no choice. My next apartment is going to be closer to the gallery, and far away from the horny couple that just ruined my couch, the first thing I bought for myself after getting my first commission check.

I’m almost halfway to the gallery, ignoring the looks of everyone else I pass on the street while I desperately grip the painting in its case and my handbag, when a stretched limo pulls to the curb, honking its horn.

I slowed to a brisk walk, turning to look at the rude fucker when the window slowly began to roll down, revealing the client I was on my way to meet.

Dion Verlice. The hybrid lord over district 2.

I’m panting to catch my breath, too tired to be embarrassed, though I’m sure I will be soon. Lord Verlice has an unnerving presence about him, making it hard for me to string along a decent coherent thought most of the time.

His very scent unnerves me. Everything he does seems sensual, but with an arrogant twist. He knows the effect he has on women, I’m sure, and I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m not above his charms. I try to be, trying to keep a professional air about me, but it’s hard around him.

“Lord Verlice,” I bent over slightly to hide the leg cramp traveling up my calves from the heels. “I was just on my way to meet you.”

“I figured,” he grins crookedly, making my knees feel weak. It’s not a good combination with the cramping. I’m about to buckle over, the painting slipping from my grip when Lord Verlice hurries out of the limo, catching me with one arm and the painting with his free hand. “Careful, Mariana.” Hell, I f*****g whimper at the exotic way he pronounces my name. “Don’t want you hurting yourself on my account.”

Then you should have taken no for an answer when we were talking on the phone about the painting, I think to myself, but don’t voice my opinion. I gently pushed myself away from his grip, righting myself on my feet, ignoring the weird feeling that traveled over my back where his hand touched me.

“I’m alright, Lord Verlice,” I said, cringing inwardly at the airy rasp in my voice. I’m unnerved. Again.

“Call me Dion, Mariana. I like it when you call me by my name.”

I almost smirk. I’ve never been brave enough to call him by his name. I don’t know how he knows he ‘likes it’. “Thank you for your help, Lord Verlice,” I grinned when his eyes flashed at my defiance. “Would you mind giving me a ride since we are heading in the same direction?”

“I’m tempted to just watch you try and run the rest of the way in those heels, Miss Shepherd,” he lifts a brow, displeased with my refusal to address him informally. He can be displeased. I’m not blurring that line. I have a hard enough time with that without taking away his formal title. I need the reminder that he is above my station, unreachable to a former maid on the run from another Lord. He is our biggest client and I won’t jeopardize the income for a fling.

“You wouldn’t,” I grinned politely, “You are a gentleman, after all. I think it would go against your principles to leave me to suffer on my own.”

“I would hardly call myself a gentleman,” he chuckles deeply, “but you’re right. I wouldn’t ever let you suffer. Hop in, Mariana,” he husks, rolling the ‘r’ in my name softly. He did it on purpose, unnerving me again. I press my hand to my chest, trying to slow my rapidly beating heart as he opens the door wide for me to slide in. His driver comes around to relieve him of the painting, placing it in the trunk while I settle myself on the wide backseat.

Maybe asking for a ride wasn’t such a good idea. His scent is permeating the entire space, making it hard to think straight. I press my thighs together, my core tingling and leaking from the smell. As he slides in next to me, I know he can smell it. He sniffs the air deeply, his orange eyes glimmering with the presence of his beast. I noticed the same look comes over Alex at times when he stares hungry at Tara. Hybrids must all have high s*x drives.

He’s a client, Mariana, and the damn Lord over the 2nd district. Keep it in your pants. He is not for you.

“Oh, Mariana,” Lord Verlice husked deeply, scooting even closer to me. Why did I fasten my seatbelt? I can’t move away from his advances. “Did no one ever tell you not to get rides alone with a man? I could just whisk you off to my place and no one would be the wiser.”

I gulped nervously, “You wouldn’t, though. I thought we had just established you were a gentleman.”

“We established I wasn’t one,” he grins widely, “I just would never hurt you or let you suffer.”

“Well,” I shifted nervously, “I guess I have nothing to worry about then.”

He stares at me, making my insides jitter and tingle, then after some time, he smirks, sitting back against the seat. I take a deep breath, feeling relieved to have some space so I can think clearly again. My heart is still racing, and I’m sure he can hear it, but that can’t be helped. I think that was his desired effect. Unnerving me as he always does.

“You’re right,” he said in his deep, comforting voice. “You never have anything to worry about with me.”

His driver takes off for the gallery, and I try to busy myself looking out the window so I’m not tempted to stare at my client who is just dripping with sexiness. Maybe it’s because I just witnessed my best friend and her mate having s*x for the millionth time this week, or because I haven’t gotten any myself in so long, but I can’t stop the slow dampening of my lace thong. His scent is making my mind race with lewd thoughts. If he is aware of the effect he has on me, he doesn’t let me know. He just gently hums to himself along with the soft music playing in the background, strumming his thick, long fingers on his inner thigh.

I should have just killed myself trying to run the rest of the half mile to the gallery. Now I have to do this meeting with wet panties.

The short drive is tense for me, even if it isn’t for him, and when he opens the door to let me out, I quickly make the excuse of needing a few moments to set up the painting to put some much needed space between us. I need fresh air, and maybe even fresh panties. The panties might be difficult to accomplish, but distance from the hybrid Lord should help with fresh air.

After about 10 minutes, my head was clear enough to welcome Lord Verlice back to the back rooms used for private viewings, out of the public eye. The front of the gallery is all open pane windows. It helps attract clients, but once inside, most highborn clients prefer to do their viewings for purchases in the back.

“You see. The painting still has to be framed. It’s not ready for purchase,” I told Lord Verlice after setting the new painting up in the viewing studio, angling the lighting just right to bring out every brush stroke. It’s embarrassing, knowing that the darker shading is representing my nooks and crevices, but no one else should be able to tell the painting is of me.

“I still want it,” Lord Verlice says, angling his head to the side as he appreciates the artwork, making me blush. It's like he is checking me out when he looks at the painting like that. “How much?”

“Well,” I looked at the clock nervously. Abel Leer, the artist responsible for this situation I’m in, should be making an appearance any moment. I wasn’t planning on putting the piece out on the floor for several more weeks, so we hadn’t discussed the price yet. “Abel should be here soon.”

“The artist? You will call him by his first name, but not me?” Lord Verlice lifts a brow with a coy smirk.

“Abel is a human like me, sir. You are the ruler of this district and my client,” I reminded him.

“Hmm,” he rubs a hand over his chin thoughtfully. “So if I wasn’t your client, you would call me Dion?”

“You would still be my Lord,” I replied, taking a few steps towards the door and peeking out. I need fresh air again, and looking to see if Abel arrived yet seems like a good enough excuse to get it.

Thankfully, when I stick my head out the door, Abel is just turning his key in the backdoor, letting himself in.

He is our top contributor, so we gave him a key for the nights he needed a change of venue for inspiration purposes. The painting we are currently looking at was actually painted here after he caught me working late one night. After late-night take-out and a few bottles of wine, I agreed. Abel is very gay, so I had no apprehensions at the time, but now that my biggest and most unnerving client is looking to buy the said painting, I wish I had said no.

“Mari, honey!” Abel saw me, opening his arms excitedly. I hurried to him, giving him a quick hug and warm smile as he kissed both of my cheeks. “You said you had a price emergency?”

“Yes,” I gulped nervously, waving him in the direction of the viewing room. “The, uh, piece you worked on here the other night, and had to take a selfie with, our biggest client wants to purchase it. We never set a price, and considering the circumstances of how it came to be….”

“You being a drunken hussy and stripping naked in your own gallery because you couldn’t figure out how to turn on the AC?” Abel angles his head down, lifting his manicured eyebrows with a smirk.

Oh, s**t. Why did he have to say that right as we walked back into the room? Lord Verlice looks up questioningly, his eyes glimmering in that strange way, like his beast is coming forward.

“Abel,” I muttered under my breath, resisting the urge to kick him.

“Relax, honey. We’re all been there. Your ass just looks a bit better than most on canvas,” Abel chuckles. “And who do we have here?” He bats his eyelashes at Lord Verlice. “Are you perhaps the demanding buyer flustering my honey boo, here?”

“I hope so,” Lord Verlice smiles with amusement. “I hope no one else is being demanding and flustering your honey boo.” He extends a hand out to shake Abel’s. “Dion. Dion Verlice.”

Abel’s eyes went wide, along with his exaggerated smile. “Our one and only Lord and wonder of the world. I thought you were too sexy to be a regular client. No wonder Mari called me in so urgently.”

Lord Verlice laughs freely. “You flatter me, Abel. I’m a fan of your work. I couldn’t wait to obtain this piece after seeing it on your profile. Mari and I were just talking about prices?”

“Oh, for you, just take it, my Lord. It was a drunken endeavor with Mariana, here. I wasn’t expecting much from it anyway. Just pay Mari for the private appointment and viewing, and we can call it good.”

“I could never take such a magnificent piece for nothing,” Lord Verlice waves his hand in the direction of the painting, smiling fondly at it, then looking at me. “Especially after hearing the story behind it,” he winks at me.

“Okay,” Abel turns to face me with a confused expression, “How much do you think it should go for?”

“I don’t know if I want it to go at all after you revealed all that,” I muttered, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“I’m not leaving this studio without it,” Lord Verlice said rather forcefully. “Name your price, Mariana.”

When he asks like that, it feels like he is asking for something else….

It’s just him trying to unnerve me again. I shake my head slightly, then start to do the math of what paintings similar to this one went for in the past. I doubled that price I just came up with in my head, hoping it would be too outrageous and he would change his mind.

“$50,000,” I said flatly, making Abel gasp quietly. It would normally go for around $25-30k but it’s my ass up there on the canvas. I think that gives me the right to value it more than anonymous paintings.

“Done,” Lord Verlice grins cockily, “I would have paid 10 times that.”

“In that case….” Abel said jokingly, his eyes still wide in surprise.

I’m a little taken back too. I didn’t think we would have agreed this easily. It’s my ass up there too. It's the most I have ever made from a single painting, and it was my own ass that earned it. Literally.

“When can you have it delivered?” Lord Verlice asked, pulling out his wallet. “I expect a personal delivery to be included,” he smirked at me, “What about tomorrow evening? We could maybe get dinner after?” My cheeks burned at his suggestion. Why can’t he leave my poor heart alone and quit making suggestive requests?

“Oh, she can’t,” Abel elbows me, “She has a blind date.”

Shit. I forgot. Abel’s older brother, Dylan. “I forgot,” I elbowed Abel back.

Abel clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Dylan has been looking forward to this all week. You aren’t blowing him off. Even for a fling with the district’s most elite bachelor,” he hisses back at me.

“A blind date, huh?” Lord Verlice looks displeased. “I would expect that for the price I’m paying, you could adjust your schedule to meet my needs.”

I scoffed, offended by his arrogance. I don’t care if he is a Lord, I’m not letting a Lord make me feel like s**t or beneath him ever again. “You have yet to pay, Lord Verlice. I have a partner who could hand deliver it tomorrow at the time of your choosing, or you could refuse the sale. I will not be adjusting my schedule for you any further than I already have.”

He looks taken back for a moment, then shifts nervously on his feet. “You’re right. That was rude of me. I’d still like for you to deliver it yourself. Whenever you have the time, Miss Shepherd. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow. Here,” he signs a check and hands it over to me. “I, uh, look forward to hearing from you soon about the, uh, delivery.”

I took the check from him, watching his eyes swim with emotions and his restless beast, wondering why his mood shifted so suddenly. I may have sounded a bit rude, but after what happened with Sebastian, I refuse to submit to outrageous demands ever again.

Abel and I watch as Lord Verlice hurriedly leaves the gallery, running his hands through his hair, messing it wildly on his way out.

“Did you just fluster the Lord Dion Verlice?” Abel asked in disbelief.

I shrugged, shaking my head, feeling dumbfounded. “I guess I did. I don’t know how, but it really looks like I did.”