squelch the feelings bubbling from inside my chest.
Although I was confused, I was utterly intrigued. In all my years I truly had never experienced pure lust. Not like this.
Desire was something all creatures experienced. We experienced even more than others, it usually manifested into blood-lust rather than sexual craving. Love wasn’t out of the question—Olivia and Eli proved that, but even so, after more than a hundred years that particular feeling had eluded me.
Sex? That was a different matter. I had experience, although always with my own kind. Relationships with humans were strictly forbidden by the Council—as they should be. Humans were too pliable. Too easily manipulated. We’re genetically superior. We were also, as a species, in hiding. Revealing ourselves and leaving survivors was considered a crime in our society. Beyond that, having actual feelings for a human was incomprehensible.
To be fair, on one level as far as I was concerned, Amelia was different. She was obstinate. Frustratingly independent. I had not been able to manipulate or compel her to do anything. She rebelled against me—only drawing the line at appearing unprofessional. I seemed to have no upper hand with her at all.
Through the reflection in Elijah's eyes, I watched her complete her work outside and return to the house. She meticulously placed the cleaning supplies in the cabinet before she fell out of camera range in the bathroom.
Staring down at my knees, I finally broke. “She doesn’t react to my commands,” I said, barely above a whisper. He heard me of course.
There was a tinge of a smirk on his face. “So she’s immune to your compulsion?”
"It appears so."
“Woah.” He lifted his brow, and stretched back in his seat, placing his hands behind his head. He was clearly enjoying my discomfort. “How does the Great Grant Palmer handle not being able to control everyone around you?”
“I don’t try to control everyone.”
He snorted. “You’ve got the hots for this girl, yet you can't penetrate her free-will. And it seems,” his eyes flick to the monitor, “that she hates you. The others will find this very interesting.”
I glared at him. "Yes. It's fascinating. Tell me then, what does she think about me right now? Does she…smell interested?"
He ignored my sarcasm, strong willed and powerful. "Uh, not exactly. She’s definitely not giving off the same triggers you are, my friend.”
“Elijah, so help me, I will tear you limb from limb. Tell me what’s going on behind…all that.”
His lips tugged at the corners, even though he was about to break. He could only hold off on my demand for so long.
"So what's really going on here…is you like a girl,” he taunted. "Grant likes a girl…"
In an instant I was up and over the desk, throwing my weight against him. I pinned him and the chair against the wall. "Tell me, you idiot. What. Is. She. Feeling?" I was going to kill him.
He pushed me off, his foot firmly placed against my chest, and I flew backwards across the room. I arched over the desk and landed on my own chair, shattering the wood under my weight. I leapt to my feet, tangled in splinters of wood and leather ready to rain down on him, but Eli was in front of me already, hands on his hips and a huge grin on his face.
"Man, I'm impressed. You cleared the desk. I was sure you were going to take out the computer,” he laughed, picking up the leg of the chair and flipping it in his hands.
I stared hard at him for a moment—two beats—before I shook my head and laughed. "I know. I wasn't sure if I could make it, either. At the last second I twisted a little."
I walked across the room to get a trash can. We bent down to clean up the pieces of pulverized leather and wood scattered across the floor. Together we cleaned up the mess and put all of the debris in the bin. Elijah, apparently done tormenting me for the day, finally gave me what I'd asked for.
“She's pissed, Grant. Like
Although I was confused, I was utterly intrigued. In all my years I truly had never experienced pure lust. Not like this.
Desire was something all creatures experienced. We experienced even more than others, it usually manifested into blood-lust rather than sexual craving. Love wasn’t out of the question—Olivia and Eli proved that, but even so, after more than a hundred years that particular feeling had eluded me.
Sex? That was a different matter. I had experience, although always with my own kind. Relationships with humans were strictly forbidden by the Council—as they should be. Humans were too pliable. Too easily manipulated. We’re genetically superior. We were also, as a species, in hiding. Revealing ourselves and leaving survivors was considered a crime in our society. Beyond that, having actual feelings for a human was incomprehensible.
To be fair, on one level as far as I was concerned, Amelia was different. She was obstinate. Frustratingly independent. I had not been able to manipulate or compel her to do anything. She rebelled against me—only drawing the line at appearing unprofessional. I seemed to have no upper hand with her at all.
Through the reflection in Elijah's eyes, I watched her complete her work outside and return to the house. She meticulously placed the cleaning supplies in the cabinet before she fell out of camera range in the bathroom.
Staring down at my knees, I finally broke. “She doesn’t react to my commands,” I said, barely above a whisper. He heard me of course.
There was a tinge of a smirk on his face. “So she’s immune to your compulsion?”
"It appears so."
“Woah.” He lifted his brow, and stretched back in his seat, placing his hands behind his head. He was clearly enjoying my discomfort. “How does the Great Grant Palmer handle not being able to control everyone around you?”
“I don’t try to control everyone.”
He snorted. “You’ve got the hots for this girl, yet you can't penetrate her free-will. And it seems,” his eyes flick to the monitor, “that she hates you. The others will find this very interesting.”
I glared at him. "Yes. It's fascinating. Tell me then, what does she think about me right now? Does she…smell interested?"
He ignored my sarcasm, strong willed and powerful. "Uh, not exactly. She’s definitely not giving off the same triggers you are, my friend.”
“Elijah, so help me, I will tear you limb from limb. Tell me what’s going on behind…all that.”
His lips tugged at the corners, even though he was about to break. He could only hold off on my demand for so long.
"So what's really going on here…is you like a girl,” he taunted. "Grant likes a girl…"
In an instant I was up and over the desk, throwing my weight against him. I pinned him and the chair against the wall. "Tell me, you idiot. What. Is. She. Feeling?" I was going to kill him.
He pushed me off, his foot firmly placed against my chest, and I flew backwards across the room. I arched over the desk and landed on my own chair, shattering the wood under my weight. I leapt to my feet, tangled in splinters of wood and leather ready to rain down on him, but Eli was in front of me already, hands on his hips and a huge grin on his face.
"Man, I'm impressed. You cleared the desk. I was sure you were going to take out the computer,” he laughed, picking up the leg of the chair and flipping it in his hands.
I stared hard at him for a moment—two beats—before I shook my head and laughed. "I know. I wasn't sure if I could make it, either. At the last second I twisted a little."
I walked across the room to get a trash can. We bent down to clean up the pieces of pulverized leather and wood scattered across the floor. Together we cleaned up the mess and put all of the debris in the bin. Elijah, apparently done tormenting me for the day, finally gave me what I'd asked for.
“She's pissed, Grant. Like
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