The Mafia Vampire's Mistress

Chapter 9: A Delectable Discussion, Pt. 1

Sebastian

I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow she is even more stunning up close. A beautiful blush burns under a light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her black dress hugs her every curve, leaving toned, tanned legs exposed and begging to be touched.

I flex my hand slowly, pulling the fingers tightly into a fist at my side where they are hidden from prying eyes, the action meaningless to anyone but me. But I have to do something to stop them from tracing the lines of muscle in her calf as she sits down on the edge of the booth, crossing her legs smoothly.

Her composure vanishes a moment later, her blush draining from her face in an instant as she tries and fails to stop her dress from sliding up on her crossed legs, exposing even more of her perfect thighs. A thoughtless, panicked tug on her hem has the opposite effect- instead of only re-covering her thighs, she has traded one area of exposed skin for another, pulling the top of the dress down just enough for a sinful display of cleavage.

My mouth is watering. I have to get myself under control. Immediately.

I have already shown too many hints, lavished far too much attention on this woman. It makes her vulnerable, puts my family at risk, and all for what? A woman I have never even spoken a word to? Absolutely not.

I force my lungs to release the breath I have held captive as I watched her walk towards me, letting the air flow slowly through my lips, counting the seconds in my head until there is not a whisper of air left and my lungs are burning and begging for oxygen. I deny them for a moment more, the act helping me to feel centered and in control again.

I allow myself to pull air in slowly through my nose, my lungs eagerly chasing relief- only to have my senses assaulted by the scent of her blood.

Had I not spent decades honing my mind and body into the pinnacle of control, my reaction would have been animalistic, instinctual, undeniable- deadly. Instead, my outward appearance remains largely unaffected, if somewhat stiff. But on the inside?

Inside, I am reduced to a clenching, shuttering monster of a mess. Every fiber of my being yearns to close the distance between us, to bury my face in the delicate swoop of her neck, to baptize my senses in her scent so that she becomes as a part of me as my own skin. My mind has almost entirely lost itself in her perfume, meticulously picking the notes of the scent apart from further study and inspection, my heart screaming that we must know everything about her, that we cannot waste another moment of our lives without her in it.

I cut my lungs off immediately, holding my breath to stop the assault of her scent on my body. It helps, but only just. The air coating the walls of my lungs is still too heavy with her scent, my body cherishing the remnants. My mind feels sluggish, heavy, as if I have ingested a drug.

‘Control.’

I have to remember to control myself, no matter how much her scent- and those eyes, are my undoing.

Deprived of the heady elixir of her scent, I find myself getting lost in her eyes, beautiful shades of amber and brown layered over each other, giving them a depth and dimension that is so often lost in deep brown eyes.

There was something there, something in the depths of her irises..

It wasn’t innocence, no, it was…life.

Experiences. Heartbreak, sadness, joy, laughter. It was in the faint crows feet that had only just begun to fade from around her eyes. I could see it now, could see the woman she would become after spending a life with someone who filled her home and heart with joy. I could see it in the nervous twist of her hands and the way she scanned the room, myself, Otis and Charles- she was alert but not distrusting. What had made her that way? I wanted to know, I had to know everything.

What had made her into this exquisite creature sitting before me? What did it take to make her cry, to make her laugh, what did she hate, what did she love so much that it stopped the nervous twist of her hands and instead made her speak frantically, passionately, turning her from quiet to animated and ecstatic?

I force myself to breathe through my mouth, short and shallow. I cannot forget the countless eyes in the shadows that are always watching me, always watching my family. I can’t allow myself to lose sight of everything we have worked so hard to accomplish all for this one human.

She continues to twist her hands nervously in the silence of our table, waiting for me to speak, to do anything more than stare at her. Charles watches my reactions, quickly recognizing that I am still gathering myself together and takes it upon himself to break the moment of tension, sliding into the booth after her and forcing her to move closer to me.

She tries to hide it, but my predator's eyes do not miss the way her breath hitches, the way her heart races, how her own hand is now held into a small fist after it nearly grasped my thigh to steady her movements.

She pulls the hand into her lap, where it begins to fiddle with anything within reach- her dress, her hair, jewelry, the empty glass in her other hand, her face turning away from me for the first time since sitting down as her hands continue their fidgeting. I enjoy watching her squirm, knowing that I am the cause. It is clear that she is attracted to me and struggling desperately to hide it.

‘Me too, beautiful girl, me too…’ I think, a chuckle slipping off my tongue. I didn’t even attempt to stop it, using the moment to release some of the pressure building in my chest before reigning my body back under control. The sound brings those devastating eyes back to my face and like a snake sunning itself on the rock, content to remain there forever, I allow myself to simply bask in the heat of her gaze inwardly, refusing to allow the control I have regained to slip outwardly for even a moment.

“Have you enjoyed your time tonight, miss…?”

“Rivers, Layla Rivers,” her voice is a melody, a song sung for my ears only.

I see Otis and Charles scanning the dance floor, the line of people waiting to take a moment of our time, the second floor where our offices and shared crash pad are held- pretty much anywhere but at the two of us sitting here with them.

I’m grateful for their casual disinterest. It is another layer of protection, an intentional misdirection, another silent move of the chess piece in a game we have been playing for the past century. Never let our enemies know our next step, never let them know what we value, never let them see us weak. The game has become so ingrained into our actions that they knew to protect this woman sitting before me without any orders or instructions.

The best lieutenants know their General’s next move before he even knows it himself, after all.

I allow myself a small smile in Layla’s direction, but I do not allow it to reach my eyes. I promise myself that before the night is over, I will make myself smile exactly like this towards at least three other women. Even now, I can feel those unseen eyes,can feel their threatening presence laying in wait within the shadows of the crowd. I can feel their suspicions forming regarding my attentions toward her, knowing that the growing line of patrons impatiently waiting to speak with me is another hint of my feelings and another mistake she and my family cannot afford for me to make.

“Layla, a pleasure to meet you. Have you enjoyed your time in our establishment tonight?”

“I have.”

Her answer does nothing to hide her confusion at being invited to sit here, practically screaming the unasked question in every syllable.

‘I wonder why you’re sitting here too, but I just can’t seem to help myself when it comes to you…’ I think, letting her unasked question remain unanswered. I can’t give her an explanation for why she’s sitting here when I still don’t know myself.

“Good. Charles here believes that you may be a good fit to work in one of our clubs,” I turned away from her then, keeping my face neutral, bordering on dismissive, “Otis, I think I’ve kept these people waiting long enough.”