"That's bullshit. I want you. I want to be rich and powerful. You've always gotten it up before. I swear if you let me suck on it I can get you off. And if my having a lover bothers you, I just won't ever talk about it. You need someone like me at your side," she pleaded. "A man is judged by how his woman presents herself."
"I'm sorry. What?"
"I'm beautiful. You’re stupidly gorgeous. We’ll be the envy of all if I'm yours. We look perfect together. Everyone knows it's just a matter of time before we mate."
That was news to me.
"Christina, this has never been more than sex. I have always been upfront with you. I never promised anything more." How much fucking worse could this day get?
"Of course," she purred, "but I knew you didn't mean it.
"Actually… I did."
How had I not realized she was far more into this than I was? And how did I miss that she was certifiable?
"I call bullshit," she said as she ran her hands over her voluptuous body and tried yet again to entice me.
We both glanced down at my crotch.
Nothing.
Time to cut my losses and get out. Damn Raquel straight to Hell. I couldn’t have her and now I was letting her stop me from having someone else.
"I have to go. It was lovely seeing you again," I said as I bit back a groan at the ridiculous pleasantry that had just left my mouth.
"This is not over, Heathcliff," Christina hissed as she rummaged through her bedside drawer and pulled out a vibrator. "You’re mine and I will have you and your limp dick. You'll see."
She punctuated her insult with the whirring of her sex toy. I shook my head and did my damnedest not to laugh. She was a piece of work. Thankfully she wasn't my piece of work.
Alone for eternity was starting to sound very appealing.
"It's over, Christina. You’re a wonderful woman," I lied. "You deserve so much more than me."
"Yes, I do, Mr. My Dick Doesn't Work Anymore," she hissed nastily.
Her crazed smile of triumph made my skin crawl. I crossed casual sex off my list of hobbies. This had to be one of the worst days of my long life. All I wanted was for it to end.
"Goodnight, Christina," I said as I made my way out of her house.
"I'll call you, darling," she yelled after me.
I walked to my Mercedes CL65 at a fast clip just in case she felt the need to follow me out and negotiate some more.
Done.
I was done with women.
***
The party was still in full swing when I arrived back at the Cressida House. I wasn't inclined to be alone with myself so I made my way back to the bar and ordered a scotch and then another and then another.
The thought of going to my suite didn't appeal. However, the thought of drinking my cares away and then punching someone certainly did.
Hitting people was always a good distraction.
***
"You really don't want to fuck with me right now," I ground out as another Vamp hit the wall with a thud. Vamps-zero. Heathcliff-eight. This was too easy. Damn it. I wanted to be challenged—not wipe the floor with warriors.
Not sure what led me to her suite. I'd like to think it was the alcohol, but I wasn't that drunk. Even the ten scotches I had consumed couldn't be blamed for what I was doing. If I had to explain my actions, I'd have to say it stemmed from the way the red headed bastard had looked at her so possessively earlier in the evening—not to be outweighed by my lack of erection with other women besides her.
The bottom line was that Raquel wasn't his. She was mine… at least in my semi-inebriated state she was.
"I just want to talk to her," I insisted as I threw the outer door to her suite open and tried to push past him.
I'd taken care of the guards in the hallway outside her suite without any problem at all. It felt good to punch a few faces. The sound of bones crunching under my fists satisfied the rage burning inside me.
Watching them fall to the floor in agony just fed my need. I wasn't out to kill. I simply wanted to maim. I knew they'd heal quickly. They were old and quite powerful. They had been chosen to protect the Princess after all. Clearly, European Vamps were pussies. Personally, I would have chosen stronger guards but Raquel was not my concern. She had made that very clear.
"She does not take visitors in the evening," Jean Paul informed me as he stood in a defensive stance, ready to have a go at me.
"Do I look like I care?" I asked as I sized him up.
"No, you do not look like you care," he said derisively. "And that, my friend, is your main problem."
His words confused me, but I was certain I didn't like them or their meaning at all. How could chasing someone for two hundred years equate to not caring? The man was an ass and I wanted a piece of him.
"Just move away from her door and I won't hurt you," I reasoned. He knew what I had done to his buddies. Surely he didn't have a death wish.
"You'll have to kill me to get to her," he replied calmly.
"As you wish." I grinned and popped my knuckles. He was an idiot. We both knew I could take him. There were very few Vampyres in the world I couldn't destroy. Why was he being so obtuse?
"Jean Paul," I drawled. "You seem like a nice little French guy and I really don't want to kill you. All I want to do is talk to Raquel."
Why hadn't she come out here with all of the ruckus? Was my presence so abhorrent to her?