Oh, the old gods! What is it with me? I can't get enough of him lately. That usually means it is time to make room for one more. I wouldn’t want him getting the wrong idea, after-all. My thoughts immediately return to Cole, hoping that won't be a problem after Friday. I saunter into the elevator, rolling my eyes at Devon's impatient, tapping foot.
“Some of us have work to do, you know,” he says pointedly.
Turning to him, I move closer, looking up at him from my much shorter stature, even in my heels. “If I recall, it wasn't me who wanted to stay in bed this morning,” I say quietly, shifting my gaze from his eyes to his mouth and back again. It has the desired effect and lights a fire in his eyes. He parts his lips with a soft hiss.
“Ding!” goes the elevator as it stops at the lobby to let my worker bees in. I subtly step back with a hint of a smile knowing he is frustrated and somewhat pissed off about my tease. But I love a good tease. The thrill of it makes my blood race that bit quicker.
When we reach Devon's offices, he stalks off in a huff. Unable to keep the smile off my face, I wave at him as he looks back and the doors close to take me up one to my top floor office.
Devon and I try to maintain a professional relationship here. All of the staff are aware that we are close friends, but the rumor mill is always hard at work regarding our physical relationship. Along with super healing, super strength and super speed comes super hearing. We pay it no mind though, and no one dares ask us outright if we are screwing.
As I've mentioned, Devon is six feet of gorgeousness. The ladies throw themselves at him and he enjoys it. He has a reputation and he does nothing to quell the gossip. I try to be subtler and stay out of the limelight where possible, but it's difficult.
How we will get around Devon's notoriety when it is time to move on to a new life, seeing as we never age, is an issue that plays on my mind, but he is a live-in-the-now type. Always has been. This company – my company – Saxon Enterprises, has been around for hundreds of years in some form or another, moving with the times and adjusting our service. It has only become the empire it is now in the last hundred years or so. We've moved HQ from city to city, which has deflected most of the attention away from its owner, being thousand-year-old me. The current story is that eight years ago, I inherited it from my late aunt (also me), when I was eighteen. The facts are buried so far under a mountain of paperwork, it would take someone decades to find the truth. If someone were so inclined to, that is. So, we've been in L.A. for eight years, making me ‘twenty-six.’ I like to think I look about twenty. I was turned when I was sixteen, but times were harder back then. Devon was twenty when I turned him. He likes to think he passes for twenty-eight. He does, just barely.
Fingering the ‘C’ on my charm bracelet, I think of Constantine. He tells me he was also twenty when he was made; ‘turned’ is not the right word for him. Them. The making of the Initial Vampires is shrouded in secrecy. I think it’s so that no one else will try and make another one. It’s as good a guess as any. There is no written record of how or why they were created, and they don’t share, so it remains a mystery. Not one that overly bothers me though. They have the weight of the Vampire population on their shoulders and that just sounds like far too much hard work. Part of the reason he stays out of the public eye is so he can move on easily the next time. Although, The Council in ge
neral are an elusive bunch, preferring to keep themselves to themselves. In fact, with the exception of their own charges, of course, it is rare for the rest of the Vampires to even see one, let alone meet and hang out with one.
Devon and CK have met, of course, but there is no love lost there, which upsets me. I would love nothing better than for them to get on and complete my little family unit. Having them both separate is hard fucking work. Oh, how I dream of a time when we will all live together and share a bed together... Slowly circling the pattern of the ‘C,’ I sigh. He gave the bracelet with the charm to me a few years ago, “to always keep him close,” he said. I have no doubt it is also his way of staking his claim on me, but I don’t have a problem with that. Devon was less overt and gave me an ‘S’ charm to add to it. The ‘S’ standing for Saxon, this company, we built together from the ground up. I have added a few more as the years have gone by. My favorites are the purple flowers, representing the Flower of Scotland, always close to my heart. Brushing that painful thought aside, I idly tap my pen. I try to bring my attention back to my work, but I am in full reminisce mode.
A knock at the door drags me back into the present. It's Scott, my executive assistant. He is human, but fully aware of our true nature.
“Morning, Liv,” he says, handing me a cup of green tea with one hand and a stack of files with the other.
“Morning, Scott, thank you. Anything I need to know?”
He shakes his head. “All covered."
“Excellent.” I nod appreciatively. I have given Scott a lot of autonomy and it makes my job a lot easier. He is intelligent, organized, a whiz with numbers, a speed reader, has a photographic memory like me, is street smart, knows everyone and everyone knows him, and he is highly, deductively intuitive. It's almost like it's a paranormal thing.
I take a sip of my tea as Scott leaves and I get down to work with my stack of files. Mostly just signatures required, but I always read everything I sign, something I learned a long time ago. Vampires eat and drink as humans do, but it does nothing for us except making us blend in and gives us something to do. We aren't dead, or undead, as legend has it. We are merely paranormal creatures who have been transformed into a higher state of being. We breathe and have heartbeats and we can see ourselves in mirrors.
Another knock interrupts me.
Looking up, I see Devon stroll in. He looks so good in his pinstripe Armani suit. A big smile crosses my face.
“Thank fuck,” I say, throwing down my pen. “I'm bored senseless. Tell me you have something other than work for me.”
He raises his eyebrow at me. “You are just insatiable right now, aren't you?” he asks quietly.
I smile. Slowly and seductively, I lean back in my chair. He walks forward around to my side of the desk and perches himself on the edge.
My breath hitches as he leans forward trailing his hand up my thigh to the hem of my too-short-to-be-appropriate-for-work-but-I-don't-give-a-shit skirt.
“We have a meeting with Geoff,” he whispers and pulls away with a wicked laugh.
Crap, I had forgotten. Well, touché, Mr. Savant, nicely played for the elevator.
“I know,” I snap, “I just lost track of time.” Which is true, I realize, when I look at the clock. My ruminating has used up too much time.
“Sure you did,” he says easily. I swat him as we exit my office laughing.
Scott looks up at us knowingly, but says nothing and goes back to his work.
CHAPTER THREE
Soon, it is Friday. On the ride home, I consult my watch. Traffic is bad and I’m impatient. I don't want to be late for my date with Cole.