4|AURELIUS
724 Words
The mark on her neck was a brand. Faint, but there, the ghost of his mouth on her skin. My jaw locked so tight I could’ve cracked molars.
Fifteen minutes. That’s how long I’d been scanning the club’s perimeter after Alestor’s call, his voice tight with barely leashed fury: “She’s gone. Window’s open. Trellis is scratched to hell.”
I’d seen her escape.
Watched from the shadows as she shimmied down the ivy, her bare feet hitting the grass with a quiet thud. Adorable. Also, stupid. The kind of reckless that got people hurt.
Then I followed.
The club was a pulsating mass of sweat and stupidity, the air thick with the stink of cheap liquor and desperation. And there she was—Jade Blythe Drachenfel—a statue of discomfort in a sea of gyrating idiots. The red dress was a flag, a dare, but her posture screamed regret. Shoulders too tight. Fingers clutching a champagne flute like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
Then he touched her.
Anderson Greer
The file photos didn’t do his smugness justice. The way his hand settled on her back like she was still his to claim. The way his mouth found her neck, his lips moving against her skin—
My vision whited out.
I was across the room before I realized I’d moved.
His foot cracked under mine like kindling. His yelp was satisfying. Pathetic. The kind of noise weak men made when they realized the world didn’t revolve around them.
His face twisted. “f**k you.” the bug spat, still cradling his injured foot.
I smiled but didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’ve heard that before.”
I turned my head to where she was
Bundled in my coat, her hazel eyes wide, the last dregs of fear still clinging to her like a second skin. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted. Prettier than the file photos. Softer. The kind of face that made men forget themselves.
Dangerous.
“We’re going home.” My voice was a blade, final and unarguable. The same tone that ended boardroom brawls. The same tone that made men back down.
She didn’t.
Her spine snapped straight, chin lifting. “Excuse me? Who are you to order me around?”
There it was.
The fire.
I tilted my head, amused. “I wonder the same. Who are you to sneak out like a child?” I let the question hang, let her hear the mockery in it. Her mouth opened. Closed. Good. Maybe she was starting to understand.
Her gaze flicked to Greer—now slinking into the crowd, shooting daggers over his shoulder. Useless. Pathetic.
Then back to me.
To the coat swallowing her hands.
When she spoke again, the fight had bled out of her. Just weariness. “You’re the new guard.”
“Aurelius Sinclair.” I corrected quickly, didn’t offer a hand. Didn’t smile. “The car’s outside.”
“I need to tell Maxi—”
“She doesn’t care. You can just text her later.”
Her eyes flashed. I wondered how long that defiance would last.
Wondered if I’d have to throw her over my shoulder and carry her out like a brat. The thought sent a jolt through me—unwelcome and unprofessional.
She held my gaze for three seconds.
Three.
Two.
One.
Then she turned.
The drive back to the Drachenfel's estate was silent. She sat curled in the passenger seat of the black sedan, the overcoat still wrapped tightly around her, staring out at the neon blur of the city giving way to the dark, manicured hedges of the suburbs. I drove with a calm, precise efficiency, eyes constantly scanning mirrors, side streets, my eyes briefly landing on the rear mirror to caught a glimpse of her. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it was heavy, charged with unspoken events.
I pulled into the circular driveway, the tires crunching on the white gravel. Her father’s domain. Empty, as usual.
“Thank you.” Her voice was quiet. “For the coat. And for… back there.”
I killed the engine. The silence settled.
I didn’t answer. Because thank you wasn’t what this was.
This was a job.
And Jade Blythe Drachenfel?
She was just another variable.
(But God, did I want to break her.)
- Writer
